“They’d probably be a lot better if Andrea would lighten up a little,” Charlotte whispered back as she got down the glasses.
Lola poured. “It’s too late for that.”
Harry and William were playing video games as Lola and Charlotte crossed to the sliding glass door. Her deck wasn’t large, more like a balcony, but had enough room for plants and a couple of chairs. Her condo was along the back of the last row of buildings and overlooked the canyon below. The forest lay in darkness, but on the far side, another housing development lit up the crest of the opposite hill.
They propped their feet on the railing, sat back in the chairs, and gazed up at the stars.
“Dish,” Charlotte said. “Every naughty detail.”
“He’s kinky,” Lola said, weighing how much she could keep to herself and still satisfy Charlotte. Sex talk actually embarrassed her.
“So he spanked you?” Charlotte was a therapist, more specifically, she was a sex therapist, and while she never revealed anything a patient said to her, Lola knew she’d heard some amazing things. Facts slipped out in phrases like Did you know some people actually do—insert kinky act—or they try doing—insert an even kinkier act? Charlotte knew all about kinky acts.
“He made me hold on to this old-fashioned wooden chair. You know, the kind they used to have in schools ages ago. Hard and straight-backed.”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Must be something from childhood. Like he had an old nun as a teacher who used to paddle him, and he’s re-creating the experience.”
“He said he likes the power of a good spanking.” Lola immediately regretted the words. Gray’s history wasn’t her business, and she shouldn’t share it.
Charlotte, however, moved on. “Did you like it?”
Lola tipped her head. “Have you ever been spanked? As an adult, I mean?”
“No. But I’ve heard it can be quite satisfying. And if you agree with that, I might have to try it.” She shrugged. “As a therapist, I should probably try everything.”
“I—” Lola started, stopped. “It—” She stopped again. Then she let herself go. “It was absolutely amazing.” She lowered her voice as if the boys could hear through the closed door and over the sound of video gunfire. “I actually had an orgasm.” Her face heated in the darkness. She hoped Charlotte couldn’t see. And she didn’t mention the brass balls.
“Oh, you dirty little bitch.” Charlotte laughed. “You’re a closet submissive. Would you let him do it again?”
In a heartbeat. “Yes, I think I would.”
“Did you have sex after he spanked you?”
Lola shook her head.
“Did he come, jerk off”—Charlotte lifted her shoulders—“blow job?”
Lola shook her head. “No, he just spanked me.” Was that bad? Did it mean he didn’t want her? Or that he was impotent? Except that he certainly hadn’t felt impotent. He’d been hard and throbbing against her.
“Hmm,” Charlotte mused. “He’s probably a control freak. Like he won’t let himself come in your presence because it diminishes his power.”
“Really? Do you have patients who are into this kind of thing? Like doms?”
She didn’t confirm. “Are you seeing him again?”
“If the boys misbehave.”
Charlotte snorted. “Oh, like that’ll never happen.” Then she smiled, batted her eyelashes. “He could be the man for you.”
Lola rolled her eyes. “It’s just sex.”
“Which is very, very good,” Charlotte agreed. “But you need more. You need a man in your life.”
Lola shook her head emphatically. “I don’t need a relationship. Men are too much work.”
“Mike was too much work. You haven’t had a real relationship since he burned you.”
Her ex-husband was one of those men who wanted perfection and was woefully disappointed when he discovered Lola wasn’t perfect. Unfortunately, being an idiotic, starry-eyed twenty-three-year-old, Lola didn’t understand that until after they were married and Mike decided she needed a few more adjustments. He tried to instruct her on the proper way to behave, the proper way to dress, to wear her hair, her makeup, even her proper weight, how to cook, to treat his friends, to . . . well, how to do everything. And nothing she did was good enough. So, after five years, he found perfection in another woman. Lola had pitied her.
But she’d learned she wasn’t relationship material, and ten years later, she was happy on her own. “I like being in control of my own life.”
“I’m in control of my life, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want a man around. I just haven’t found the right one yet.” Charlotte had fallen hard five times. She’d practically been on the church doorstep, but she’d never taken that final step. There’d always been something that came between her and her man. Maybe it was being a therapist; she analyzed everything too much.
Lola didn’t say that, though. She’d said it too many times in the past.
“He could sense exactly what you need,” Charlotte went on. “A take-charge man who sweeps you off your feet and orders you to be his woman.” A fire lit the depths of her green eyes.
“It’s just sex.” Lola flapped a hand. “He likes to spank women. The twins are a convenient excuse for him to play his kinky games. Don’t get carried away with this whole relationship thing. I don’t need any entanglements.” But what the coach had given her, well, yeah, she could have that again. More than once. A lot. She’d felt not only physically satisfied—huge understatement—but special as well with every sweet word he’d said.
“You just don’t like entanglements because in a relationship something is required of you, and you’re not sure you can give it. So you reject every man before he can reject you.”
“I do not reject them,” Lola defended. “I choose men who aren’t interested in a relationship either.”
“What about Ben?”
“He got too serious.” Ben was the last man she’d dated, euphemism for the last man she’d had casual sex with over the period of a few months.
“He wanted a relationship. He asked you to live with him.”
“Which meant I would have had to sell the condo or he would have to sell his house. It was too complicated.”
“He was a nice guy.”
“They’re nice when they don’t live in your house and can’t tell you what to do.”
Charlotte shook her finger. “See? You rejected him before he could start treating you the way Mike did.”
“That’s not true.” All right, maybe a little. She just wasn’t interested in giving a man sway over her life. She didn’t want to feel like she needed to become someone else, someone better. “I like my life the way it is.” And then she tried a little redirect, because honestly, she didn’t want to argue the same old argument with Charlotte. “And I can’t wait for the twins to misbehave so I can get my next punishment.”
The distraction worked, thank goodness. “Ooh,” Charlotte enthused. “You did like giving up a little control for a while.”
“If it’s sexual, then yes.” Because it only lasted for a few hours. And boy, had those few hours been totally worth it.
5
SATURDAY MORNING, AS HE SHOUTED OUT COMMANDS, GRAY reflected that running a multimillion-dollar conglomerate was easier than coaching sixteen boys five days a week. Especially with his son and Lola Cook’s nephews as three of the sixteen.
Rafe was sullen, but then he usually was around Gray. As the adult, Gray should know what to do to repair their relationship, but he was clueless. Everything he tried just seemed to push them further apart. It was far easier to order a subordinate to fix a problem than it was to divine the workings of a teenage mind when he hadn’t been one in twenty-five years.
Harry and William were a different story. They delighted in flouting authority. He’d forbidden cell phones, so they’d brought small gaming devices that he’d never even seen before. They distracted the other boys until Gray had to take those away,
too.
That conversation had gone the way every conversation did with those two.
“You can’t take that,” Harry said militantly. “It’s a prototype from my dad’s company.”
“Yeah.” William added a glare.
“You will get them back at the end of the day,” Gray answered.
It had been his inclination to tell them to grab their toys and take a hike, but he’d made a bargain with Lola. And they’d certainly given him more than enough ammunition for getting her back into the naughty corner.
So he’d locked the devices in his office and made them run two laps. But throughout the morning, he could hear the whispers.
“Your dad made that?”
“Yeah. He’s real smart.”
“Can I get one?”
Even Rafe, who generally disdained games like Angry Birds, whispered with the other boys until Gray broke them into groups and had them perform some passing drills. None of them liked learning rules or doing agility exercises, but give them a ball, and suddenly their interest was piqued.
“Good job, Stu,” he called encouragement. He couldn’t run the ball well or kick, but Stu had an arm. And he could certainly block.
And his son was a damn decent kicker. “Great job, Rafe,” he called. The praise earned him nothing more than a bored glance.
Harry and William weren’t proficient at anything—except talking—but he began to wonder if that, too, was an act.
He’d loved coaching the football camp the last three years, but at the end of the day, he had to admit this first week had ground him down. Sending the boys off to the showers, he turned to see Lola at the gate.
The sight of her crossing the field wearing ass-hugging black shorts revived him. Her legs seemed endless. The sleeveless top, on the other hand, wasn’t tight but tied at the back and flared over her hips. She appeared dainty and feminine. When she drew close, he noted the necklace dangling provocatively between her breasts. It had the effect of making him want to lick her right in that exact spot.
“In my office,” he instructed as sternly as he would issue an order to one of the boys.
“Yes, Coach,” she said with a cheeky lilt to her voice.
He didn’t close the door behind her. Though the blinds inside were drawn, he had no doubt that one of her nephews, or anyone else for that matter, could put an eye to the end of the slats and see something. He wasn’t about to compromise her that way.
Unlocking the desk drawer, he pulled out the gaming devices and handed them to her. “Another infraction,” he said darkly.
Her lips moved slightly, as if she’d only just managed to stop a smile in its tracks. “Does it deserve punishment?”
“Most definitely.” And he wanted it bad. “Quite frankly, I don’t care if their father made these things or not, I don’t want to see these devices back here. Understand?” A little overbearing authority seemed necessary.
She looked down at the devices in her hands. “Their father? What do you mean? He didn’t make these.”
“They claimed they were prototypes he’d produced.” Obviously they’d made that up.
“Andrea sent these things from a store in Germany. The latest thing. Personally, one gaming toy is the same as another, but whatever.”
“So they lied.”
“Yes, they did.” She nodded. “Definitely sounds like a punishment is in order.”
“I agree completely. Tomorrow afternoon. Two o’clock.” It wasn’t his weekend with Rafe, and he had to take him back to his ex-wife’s as soon as he got out of the showers. Bettina was talking about getting Rafe a car. Of course, they’d disagreed about it since Gray was the one who would pay for it, but Bettina was insistent. After all, she was the one who had to drive Rafe everywhere or let him use her car.
“Yes, sir,” Lola said, her eyes sparkling.
He wondered why the hell he was letting Bettina occupy his thoughts for even a second when Lola was right in front of him. Despite the open door and the scent of earth and grass, he could smell her. Sweet, seductive woman.
He had the evening to determine the perfect punishment. And he would make it good.
* * *
“YOU CAN’T JUST TAKE THEM,” HARRY WHINED. “THAT’S OUR personal property.”
“Yeah,” William chimed in. “You can’t take our stuff.”
Lola wondered if William was capable of original thought. Though he was older by those five minutes, he always seemed to parrot whatever Harry said. She locked the Game Boys—or whatever the German versions were called—in her bottom desk drawer. Why the hell had Andrea sent them? Did she want to cause trouble?
“If you can’t follow the rules, then you don’t get to play with them.” Sure she’d been hoping—praying—the boys would misbehave so she could see Gray again, but there still had to be consequences for their bad behavior.
“They’re not toys,” Harry huffed, affronted.
When she straightened away from the desk, she was taller than him. She glared down. “You can go one night without them in punishment for using them improperly. There’s a time and place, and football camp isn’t it. That was rude to the coach and the other boys who are trying to learn.” She narrowed her eyes on them. “And to top it off,” she added, “you lied.”
“About what?” William groused, even though she’d been looking at Harry.
She pointed at the desk drawer. “Those things aren’t prototypes. Your father’s company manufactures cardboard cereal boxes.” And other packaging materials. But that probably wasn’t glamorous enough for the twins.
“You just don’t get it, Aunt Lola,” Harry said, obviously unrepentant if that twinkle in his brown eyes said anything. “People want illusion. They want to think something is bigger and better, and no one else has it. They want something new and exciting. All we did was make them feel special by giving them exactly what they wanted.”
Lola stared at Harry a long moment. “How old are you?” she asked. Because honestly, the kid was kind of profound. He could read people, understand their needs. Most adults weren’t even able to do that. The problem was he sounded like a con artist.
He wasn’t exactly a handsome boy. His face was too round. Maybe that would change as he got older. By the time he was eighteen, girls might be falling at his feet. But there was something in his eyes, something that set him apart even from his identical twin.
“You know exactly how old we are, Aunt Lola,” he answered haughtily.
Yes, she did. And despite the fact that she was two-and-a-half times their age, she wondered if they actually had the upper hand.
“I have work to do,” she said. She was still waiting for that phone call from Frank. With her luck, they’d call just before two o’clock tomorrow. “Why don’t you two go over to the pool?”
Harry smirked. “Are you sure we’re old enough to swim on our own? There’s no lifeguard, you know.”
She didn’t rise to his baiting tone. “Just make sure you wear your sunscreen.” God, now she was sounding like Andrea.
When they were gone—after much noise and fuss—Ghost came out from behind the desk where she’d been hiding and climbed onto Lola’s lap.
“Do those big, bad teenage boys scare you?” she asked, scratching the cat’s chin. Ghost began to purr.
Lola rolled her chair up to the desk—the cat curling into a tiny ball of fur—tapped a few times on the mouse, and brought up the diagram she’d been working on. She had two monitors so she could compare documents and drawings, referencing without having to toggle back and forth between windows. She’d purchased state-of-the-art software and spent hours viewing online seminars to learn the latest tips and tricks.
Yet instead of digging in, she sat for long minutes contemplating Harry and William. And Gray. He was something new and exciting. He said all the right things. He made her feel special. Was she simply letting him con her into submission the way Harry conned his friends?
* * *
IN THE
END, LOLA DECIDED IT DIDN’T MATTER WHETHER GRAY was conning her. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, and she’d loved the things he’d done to her. She wanted more. Simple.
By Sunday afternoon, Frank still hadn’t called, and neither he nor George had answered the messages she’d left. She was dubious they would get to the testing until Monday despite the edicts from the powers that be. She didn’t have to worry about Harry and William either. They were going to the movies with a friend, then burgers afterward. The boy was older, and his mom was letting him borrow the car for the afternoon. Perfect. Andrea would probably freak, but she wouldn’t know. It was daylight, for heaven’s sake. She had to give the boys some leeway. Or maybe it was just a good excuse to get rid of them.
Lola wore a flirty little skirt and a short-sleeved sweater that buttoned down the front.
Gray didn’t compliment her with words, but when he opened the door, his gaze was all she needed. His smoky eyes drifted all over, from the ponytail she’d tied high on her head to the thin, tight sweater, the skirt that could be flipped up over her butt oh so easily, and her bare legs. She felt like an ice cream cone licked from bottom to top.
“Go into the bathroom and take off that bra.” He pointed down the hall.
Her nipples immediately peaked against the offending bra. His blue shirt was open far enough to reveal a dusting of hair, the jeans seemed to cup and enhance his private parts, and his chin was covered with a sexy five o’clock shadow.
Following his direction, she passed a home office with built-in cabinets, shelves, and desk. A large leather chair sat before an open laptop, a screen saver of geometric shapes flitting across the monitor.
The main bathroom was opposite double doors leading to the master bedroom. Before turning in, she caught sight of a large bed, burgundy comforter, and sturdy wooden headboard with bedposts of mahogany.
The main bathroom also had a door into a smaller bedroom. Pennants, pictures, and posters on the walls told her this was his son’s room. Obviously the boy was at his father’s house enough to require his own room.
She closed that door for no other reason than feeling uncomfortable stripping off her bra while looking at his son’s bed. It gave her an odd sensation of guilt, as if she were trespassing.
The Naughty Corner Page 5