“Really? You never like any of my ideas,” she said, slightly shocked. “You never want me to spend money.”
“That’s not true. This is the first real idea you’ve come up with. All the rest were hair-brained schemes or places you wanted to go to impress some man.”
Claire bit her tongue. While his voice sounded calm, he was frowning and rubbing his palm on his jean covered thigh as though it itched. It didn’t seem like the time to start another argument.
“So you’ll help me?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes, but there are some rules,” he warned seriously.
“With you, there always are,” she sighed, slumping back on the couch. “Okay, let’s hear them.”
“I want to be kept in the loop,” he stated. “Each week I want you to give me a reporting of what’s been done, what’s waiting to be done and any new plans or changes.”
“Done.”
“And Jackson goes.”
“What? Why?” she demanded. Rising to her knees on the couch she stared at him in astonishment.
“Because I said so.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “That’s not a reason.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting. Take it or leave it.”
“Is that my only option?” she asked suspiciously.
“No. If you move into the building before your apartment is complete with new locks and a security system, he goes. If you stay here until then, he can stay.”
“That’s sort of like blackmail,” she pointed out.
“So sue me,” he replied with a shrug.
“You want me to stay here,” she guessed.
“Yes,” he admitted unashamedly.
“Why?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.
“I promised to take care of you. This is the easiest way.”
“Is that all? What is our relationship, Travis?” she asked. “Are we friends, lovers, or business partners? Am I to be the little girl to your daddy? Are you the dominant and I the submissive, what?”
“I don’t know,” he responded, his voice deep with feeling. “At times, all of the above I imagine, although I’m not sure we can ever truly be friends. That’s much too bland a word for us don’t you think? I do know this. If you decide to stay here, I won’t be able keep my hands off you,” he stated with not a trace of regret.
“Maybe I don’t want you to,” she replied softly. Waiting, she watched him closely, her heart thudding in her chest. It was a bold statement and one that had her questioning her sanity.
“Come here,” he growled, holding out his arms.
Claire dove into them and they closed around her, his hand pressing her head to his chest. A soft sigh of relief unintentionally escaped her lips and she closed her eyes.
“You do know I’m going to have to discipline you for the cigarette thing?” he sighed.
“I said I didn’t mean it and you said you believed me,” she protested, pushing against his broad chest.
“Not for flicking it away. I know that’s a habit, but finding you leaning over that railing was chilling. That’s your crime today, little girl, taking chances.”
“Aren’t I taking a chance with you?” she asked peevishly.
“No comparison,” he responded. “You might have some risks being involved with me, but I sure as hell won’t drop you on your head from the twentieth floor.”
“Point taken.”
“I think we’ll wait until bedtime,” he drawled patting her ass gently. “It will give me something to look forward too and there’s always the chance you’ll up the ante with another foolish stunt before then. I’d hate to have to spank you twice.”
Claire snorted.
Chapter Twelve
Claire tipped the movers generously as they carried the last of the boxes from Travis’s apartment and left to return them to storage. Flopping onto a chair she flipped her legs over the side and let them swing. It really was a nice apartment, she admitted, especially since she painted the living room. Travis had good taste. His home’s masculine flair felt comfortable as opposed to overwhelming and his kitchen was to die for.
The building she wanted was being inspected today and, if all went well, Travis would make an offer. Claire had no worries the owner would accept. He was in a hurry to sell and there would be no hold up with financing.
This morning she called a friend of George’s, an architect from a reputable firm, and he promised to meet with her on Wednesday afternoon to discuss her plans. She had a good feeling about him.
Getting up, she got out the vacuum and cleaned up the rest of the debris the movers left behind. As she worked, a sense of uneasiness niggled in her brain and she tried to push it away. Last night Travis didn’t spank her. Not that she wanted to be spanked, but just the same it bothered her. The man was nothing if not dependable and if he said he was going to do something, he did it. Yet he hadn’t said another word about it after their discussion in the study.
Claire wondered why. Had he forgotten, changed his mind, been too tired? Why it seemed so significant to her she couldn’t comprehend, but she knew even a single swat on her ass would have settled the issue in her mind. She didn’t like things that didn’t make sense and this didn’t.
They’d watched a movie in his bed, munching on popcorn. He fell asleep during the news and Claire shut off the TV and went to her room. Sometime during the night, he came and carried her back to his bed tucking her in and whispering “naughty girl” against her temple as she drifted back to sleep. When she awoke this morning, he was gone.
Putting the vacuum away, she glanced at the clock. Three o’clock. Travis wouldn’t be home until around six. Grabbing her hoodie and purse, she left the apartment and headed to the corner coffee shop to get her favorite latte. On impulse, she walked to the park to see if perhaps Jeannie was around, but it was basically deserted by the time she got there. Most of the mothers and young children had headed home before it started to get dark. At loose ends, she decided to take in a movie and reached into her pocket for her cell at the same time remembering she’d left it on charge in her room. Crap!
Oh well, what did it matter? She had no close friends and the only one likely to call was Travis, who was no doubt working diligently to make some already filthy rich investor richer. Exiting the park, she hailed a cab to the AMC on 84th street hoping to catch a late matinee.
***
Travis gingerly opened his door, pleased when it didn’t smash into a baby grand piano. Smiling, he entered his now spacious foyer and tossed his key into a silver tray on the side table. Whistling, he hung up his coat in the closet and picked up his briefcase. Carrying it into the living room, he placed it on the couch.
“Claire,” he called out as he kicked off his shoes, flopped on his couch and grabbed his remote. Ah, this is the way it’s supposed to be he thought as he flipped on the news to catch the sports update. When it progressed to nightly news, he turned down the sound and got up to fix a drink.
“Claire,” he called again. Sniffing the air, he poured two fingers of single malt scotch into a glass in celebration of the maze being gone. Suddenly, he realized there were no delicious smells coming from the kitchen. Striding back to the couch, he snatched the remote and pushed mute. No music blaring, no pans rattling, no Claire to be precise.
The kitchen was neat as a pin and empty as hell.
“Claire,” he yelled as he marched down the hall checking first his room then hers. Nothing! Taking out his cell he hit her on speed dial and listened to his ring tone coming from the top of her dresser. Dennis Leary singing, “I’m An Asshole” didn’t bother him, knowing she was out after dark with no phone did. “Damn it all to hell,” he swore, looking around for a note.
It was nonexistent and he methodically checked every room.
Yanking off his tie, he sat on the edge of the couch and waited, watching the hands of the clock ticking off the time in slow motion.
She’s a big girl, he told himself.
Why was she always hanging around the park? It could be a dangerous place after dark.
Leaving a note was common courtesy! Was that too much to expect?
Claire is not a child you have to worry about, he insisted angrily.
She’ll think she’s five years old when I get my hands on her, his mind finished.
Damn little brat, making me worry.
Why the hell does she even have a cell if she’s not going to carry it?
That’s it. She’s grounded and I’m taking that phone away from her for a week, maybe two!
Have another drink, Travis, you’re coming unglued.
Travis poured another drink and watched the TV with no sound. At ten o’clock he heard her key in the lock and grimly turned up the volume, loud.
“Why is the TV so loud?” she nearly shouted, shrugging off her hoodie and tossing her purse on the couch.
“I don’t want the neighbors to hear me kill you,” he replied, taking a sip of his scotch.
“What?” she stammered, backing up a step.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, rising to his full height and glaring down at her.
“I went to the park for a while and then to a movie. Why? And why is there a gun in your pants?”
“I was just getting ready to head to the park looking for you,” he growled.
“With a gun?” she asked.
“I have a permit,” he replied setting his drink down and planting his hands on his hips.
“Oh,” she gulped. “So are you really planning to kill me or were you speaking metaphorically?”
“What do you think?” he snapped as he strode down the hall to his room with Claire trailing behind. She stayed in the doorway and watched as he locked his pistol in a case in his drawer.
“Metaphorically, I hope,” she answered wide-eyed.
Turning, he marched back to the door and she scurried out of his way. On his way by her, he snagged her arm and pulled her along with him. In the living room, he sat in the middle of the couch and pointed at her jeans.
“Take them down.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me. Take them down and your panties too,” he ordered, rolling up his sleeves.
“Why?”
“I would think that would be pretty obvious, but as today you’ve proven yet again that you’re a child in a woman’s body, I’ll make it clear. I’m going to blister your inconsiderate ass.”
“So you’re mad because I went to a movie?” she asked incredulously.
“No, Sherlock, I’m mad that you went out, stayed out after dark, never called, didn’t leave a note and left your damn cell phone on your dresser, which by the way I’m confiscating for the next two weeks since you aren’t responsible enough to carry it. Get. Them. Down!”
Claire laughed.
“Really? You think this is funny?” he demanded, his voice dangerously low.
“Sort of,” she giggled. “I had no idea you would take the daddy thing so far. It’s a little endearing,” she continued feeling herself blush. “You care about me,” she accused with a smile, pointing her finger at him.
“Aw, what gave me away?” he drawled sarcastically. “Is it that I’ve been beside myself with worry? Or maybe it’s because I intend to turn your ass into toast for not even having the decency to tell me you were going out,” he rasped out, grabbing her hand and yanking her over his lap. “Possibly you can sense that I wish I could spend twenty-four hours a day with my cock planted deep inside your pussy, but then that’s not possible, so I’ll have to settle for this,” he continued, unsnapping her jeans and shoving them down. Her pink panties followed, effectively trapping both of her legs at the knees and his hand fell five times in rapid succession.
“Ow, oh, Travis, please,” she screamed.
“How dare you act like this when I’ve opened my home to you and made you welcome?”
“You’ve spanked me,” she screeched.
“With my hand,” he roared back, smacking her again. “I should have used my belt! Maybe you’d be better behaved. You didn’t even cook dinner,” he accused, smacking her again.
“You hate it when I cook,” she hissed over her shoulder.
“No, I love it when you cook,” he insisted, giving her another smack. “I hate it when you leave a big mess. How hard would it have been to leave a note ‘went to the movies’? Four little words.”
“I didn’t know I was going to the movies,” she cried. “It was a spur of the moment decision.”
“Well, this isn’t,” he said with a grim smile as he slapped the underside of each cheek. “I’ve been thinking about it for the last few hours. How would you feel if I didn’t come home some night?”
“I don’t know,” she sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“Would you worry? Would you wonder if I’d gotten in an accident?” he asked harshly.
“Maybe,” she admitted. “You’d call,” she sobbed.
“You bet your sweet ass I would,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t leave you sitting her alone wondering what happened to me,” he insisted. His hand was stinging like crazy but he didn’t care as he spanked her over and over until she howled, her feet kicking wildly.
“I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I’ll call next time, really I will,” she promised scrubbing at her tears.
“We’ll see when you get your phone back,” he said sternly.
“Travis, you are not taking my phone,” she yelled at the top of her lungs.
“I already have,” he informed her giving her another hard swat. “What did you eat for dinner?”
“Popcorn,” she sobbed out.
“We had that last night,” he pointed out.
“I know,” she acknowledged, slumping over his knees and giving up the fight.
Sighing, he looked at her cherry red bottom and shook his head.
“You’re a very naughty girl and I should send you to bed with no dinner, but I’m starving too, so up you go,” he ordered, lifting her off his lap. Taking the remote he shut the TV off.
“Can I pull my pants up?” she asked as tears streaked down her face.
“No, we’re going to the kitchen where you will stand with your nose in the corner while I make dinner and admire your flaming red bottom.”
“Travis, please, no,” she begged, but he was already on his feet and leading her as she shuffled along, still trapped by her tight jeans.
Right to the corner he took her, pushing her nose to the wall and giving her another five spanks for good measure.
“I don’t want to hear one peep out of you,” he warned as he left her there and set about making dinner. And he didn’t, just sniffles and the occasional sob. Twice her hands moved to rub her bottom and he threatened to take off his belt. That was enough and she let them hang at her sides.
In short order he chopped and sautéed fresh zucchini, onions, garlic, peppers and mushrooms in olive oil while he boiled some of her homemade pasta. While the pasta drained he went to her and helped her take off her jeans, panties and sneakers and led her to a stool.
“Please tell me you don’t expect me to sit?” she gasped.
Travis didn’t answer. Instead he scooped her up and planted her butt on a stool, enjoying her hissing complaints.
“That’s what you get for being so irresponsible,” he stated setting a plate of pasta topped with vegetables before her and handing her a fork. “Next time leave a damn note!”
“I will,” she whispered as she moved the food around on her plate.
Travis tried to eat, but the sight of her tears falling onto her food was too much.
“Oh for God’s sake,” he muttered as he got off his stool and picked her up. Her legs encircled his waist, her arms his neck as she sobbed into his shoulder. He tried not to touch her sore naked bottom but it was next to impossible, so he was as gentle as he could be while he shushed her and kissed her hair.
“I
’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I never thought anyone would worry about me like that.”
“I know, baby. It about made me sick, wondering if you’d been attacked in the park or injured in an accident. This is the first time you weren’t here when I got home. I guess it made me a little crazy,” he whispered in to her hair.
“Can you forgive me?” she asked softly.
“Yes. You’ve paid the price and it’s forgotten,” he assured her.
“Can I have my phone?”
“No,” he laughed. Carrying her into the living room he snagged a pillow from the couch and took it back to the kitchen. Placing it on her stool he gently lowered her down. “Now eat your dinner,” he suggested.
“I’m not really hung…”
Travis looked at her, just looked at her and she picked up her fork. She was quite adept at pretending to eat and finally he took both their plates and scraped the remains of the meal into the sink. Hitting the garbage disposal switch, he watched her trying to inch off her stool and went to lift her down.
“Do you want me to clean up?” she asked.
“No, go to bed,” he replied. He watched her walk slowly across the kitchen, her fiery pink cheeks showing beneath her tee shirt. It was incredibly arousing. “Claire,” he called after her, “my bed.”
She didn’t turn around. One delicate hand came back and cupped her left cheek and he noted the shiver that passed through her as she seemed to clamp her thighs together. She nodded.
He was rock hard and had no desire to do anything but follow her. Instead, he cleaned up the kitchen. There was no doubt she’d be exactly where he’d told her to be when he got done and he smiled in satisfaction.
***
In her bedroom, she got undressed, brushed her teeth and washed her face. After combing out her messy bun she turned and examined her ass in the mirror. Holy crap, no wonder she was so sore. Her butt looked like she’d sat on the stove and felt much the same way. She cringed remembering that only this afternoon she’d been fretting because he hadn’t slapped her ass last night. What an idiot.
Widow on the Loose Page 11