Thank God. Maybe Harry possessed some redeeming qualities after all.
“Can we go to the mall today?” William asked as if he hadn’t been hovering over her shoulder for the entire conversation.
“Not a good idea,” she said. “Because I’m not sure how I could possibly meet every teenager you might come in contact with, not to mention potential pedophiles.” Okay, she shouldn’t employ sarcasm about their mother. Andrea had a point. Lola had let them get in a car with a kid she didn’t even know. It wasn’t catastrophizing to ask what she’d have done if they hadn’t come home on time or answered their cell phones. She’d had no phone number to call, no parents to contact. It was negligent.
Harry rolled his eyes at her militant look. “Come on, Aunt Lola. We’re going stir crazy. We’ll keep our cell phones on at all times, and we won’t get in a car with any strangers.”
They were closer to sixteen than fifteen. She and Andrea had prowled the mall for hours when they were fifteen, and even fourteen and thirteen. What was being overprotective versus letting kids have some fun?
“All right, you can go.” She glared and gritted her teeth at them. “But do not get into any trouble.” Really, how much trouble could they get into at the mall?
Stores. Spending. Andrea’s credit cards.
“And do not use your mother’s credit cards.”
They gave her identical eye rolls. “We’re just going to the arcade,” Harry said.
She contemplated their singularly innocent faces, sure they were planning something. “Fine. I’ll drop you off after we’ve showered and had an extremely healthy breakfast.” The mall should be open by then. “And don’t forget your driving lesson. I’ll pick you up at one.”
Jeez. Being an aunt was hard work.
8
“YOUR WIFE’S HERE, MR. BARNETT. SHALL I SEND HER IN?”
Bettina was his ex-wife, but Gray didn’t correct his secretary. He hit the intercom button. “Send her in.”
Mondays were his only full day in the office during the summer while he ran the football camp. His weekly executive staff meeting was at ten-thirty. He glanced at his watch. Bettina could have five minutes, which was all the time he could spare.
She strolled in garbed in a black dress with red piping along the collar and a full skirt. She accented the outfit with red lipstick, choker-length red beads, and red high heels. When they were married, her attire of choice had been sweatpants.
“You look nice,” he complimented. “A lunch date?”
She sat in the chair opposite, spreading the skirt out elegantly. “I’m going to a poetry reading at a local teahouse. It’s high tea. We need to dress the part.”
Not a date, then. Bettina had not dated since the divorce five years ago. She’d gotten the house, he’d gotten the mortgage. Her lifestyle would be maintained unless she remarried. He could only hope, but he didn’t believe she was interested in men anymore; she hadn’t been interested in sex since Rafe was born. But she was a great mom.
“Rafe needs a car,” she said, her words clipped. “I can’t keep driving him everywhere or letting him borrow my car. It just isn’t workable anymore.”
When Rafe was born, they’d both decided she should be a stay-at-home mom. Division of labor, anything outside the house was his bailiwick. So he’d done the yard work every weekend and gone to the office every day, traveled as necessary, climbing the corporate ladder in order to buy a bigger house, the cars, save for the college fund, pay the bills, and provide health insurance. Bettina had done everything else. Taking Rafe to his various activities had been part of everything else.
Nothing had changed since the divorce except that Rafe hated him and Bettina held him in contempt.
“He has a bike,” he said mildly, sitting back, clasping his hands over his stomach.
She snorted. “Oh, be serious.” She tossed her highlighted blond hair over her shoulder. Rafe’s black hair had come from him, a dominant trait.
He smiled slightly. He’d known it would piss her off. He wasn’t sure whose idea it was to have him buy Rafe a car. Was she pushing Rafe, or was he pushing her? “When I was his age, I had to earn money to buy my first car.”
Bettina gave a long-suffering sigh. “And your father had to walk five miles in the snow to get to school every day.”
Gray’s family was all back East. It was her father who had loved that old saying, even though he’d been born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area where there was no snow except in the mountains, and even that was rare.
“He shouldn’t be handed everything, Bettina.”
“He’s not.” Her lips pursed and her nostrils flared.
She was still as angry with him as the day she’d told him she was getting a divorce. Yet he’d done his best for her and Rafe. She’d been a good mother, and he’d been a good provider. The divorce had nothing to do with the few sexy spankings he’d given her in the early years. She’d never complained. They’d had fun. Then she’d changed after Rafe was born. Sex became a duty for her, no longer a pleasure.
It was his traveling that finally did their marriage in, though. She never considered how grueling it was for him, especially coming home to her harping. Then she’d started accusing him of sleeping with other women while he was away. He hadn’t, though he could never figure out why she cared anyway since she was no longer interested. When she’d divorced him, it was almost a relief. Except that he’d lost his son as well.
“Do you know how much homework kids have these days?” Bettina went on. “Not to mention all the after-school activities like soccer and—” She stopped, glared at him. “Oh, I forgot, you can’t make the soccer games.”
It was an old fight. Gray cut it off. She did have a point about activities, and a car would be easier. Why was he fighting so hard? Bitterness? Was he punishing Bettina? Perhaps it was time he got over it, for Rafe’s sake. “All right,” he sighed. “I’ll take him out this weekend. I’m sure we can find him a good used car.”
“You’re such a cheap bastard, Gray.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “He’s a teenager. He needs something flashy and fun. Like a Mustang. Or a big truck he can impress his friends with. Don’t get him something girlie or old man.”
“I’m not buying him a car just to impress his friends.”
She rose quickly, leaned over the desk, poking her finger close to his face. “Do not make me a laughingstock in the neighborhood by buying him an old, used beater car.” Having the last word as always, she left in a swirl of skirt, her perfume still hanging in the air.
He sat for a long moment. He didn’t want to buy off his son with an expensive new car. He wanted Rafe to learn the value of money and hard work. But he wouldn’t buy him an old piece of crap either. He wanted reliability. Bettina should know that.
His secretary buzzed him. “Mr. Barnett, they’re waiting for you in the conference room.”
The staff meeting, he was late.
Gathering his folder, he thought of Lola for no particular reason. Hell, there was a very particular reason. She made him feel good. When he closed his front door, all the crap fell away. He wanted her tonight. But he’d have to wait until tomorrow when Harry and William used their cell phones, played their video consoles, or picked on Stu. Because they would do something. They always did. And Lola would be his.
Despite Bettina’s visit, Gray was smiling as he joined the meeting.
* * *
ON TUESDAY, THEY WERE ANGELS. WHAT WAS UP WITH THAT? GRAY wondered if he should provoke them.
“Use your body to shield the ball from the opposing team, William.”
The opposing team consisted of several tackling dummies and his brother, Harry. He had the boys performing a fumble-recovery drill. He’d chosen Harry and William for the first demonstration, employing the slide technique because they were of equal size.
Having played high school football, he knew all the drills. As a wide receiver, he’d had a fair degree of skill, but he hadn’t chose
n to go on to college football.
“All right, this time let’s have Stu and—” He glanced around. The problem was none of the other boys were Stu’s relative size. He thought about putting Rafe up against him, Rafe being the oldest of the boys. Instead, he chose one of the slighter players. “Roger, you try it.”
The reality was you were going to face guys who were bigger, but sometimes the little guy had more agility. The drill would help Roger work with that. He waited for some sly comment from the twins about the difference in size and weight. They simply watched as Stu and Roger took their positions.
He tossed the ball, simulating the fumble. Before Roger even moved, Stu leaped and fell on the ball, capturing it firmly. The boy had more in him than Gray had originally thought. His skills were improving.
He clapped twice. “Good job.”
The other boys cheered, even the twins, and pounded Stu on the back when he rose. It was perfect.
Something had to be wrong. They were too perfect. Maybe Lola had had a talk with them. Maybe she didn’t want another punishment. Nah, he told himself with an inward smile.
After the fumble recovery, he moved the boys into a zigzag-agility drill. This one was more difficult. Setting up a line of cones, the player was required to move forward, backward, and sideways through the cones as another player passed the ball to him.
No one, not even the twins, laughed when Stu tripped. He wasn’t the only one tripping and dropping the ball.
“Great job,” he called to each kid in turn. He believed the effort should be as recognized as the result.
As the morning progressed, Gray encouraged and challenged, applauded and beat the air with his fist over each and every boy’s triumph. The field was scuffed, full of divots, the boys hot, sweaty, dirty, grass-stained, but smiling. At a quarter to one, he sent them all to the showers, but Rafe sidled up to him.
“Mom says you have to drive me home. She’s got an appointment.”
“All right.” He realized it was a ploy on Bettina’s part, but he’d take the extra time with his son. “Go get showered.”
Once Rafe had jogged off the field, Gray pulled out his cell phone and punched in Lola’s number.
He didn’t let her get a word out beyond hello. “My house, six o’clock. Be prepared.”
“Dammit”—she sighed—“what did they do now?”
“Unnecessary teasing,” he said sharply. “This is going to be big-time punishment.” He was already anticipating, gearing up.
“Yes, Coach,” she said, and he detected a note of amusement.
“Don’t be late.” He ended the call, again without letting her say another word.
A case could be made that he was getting a little obsessive about her, but damn, it felt good. He wanted her. He was going to have her. And the twins lack of misbehavior wouldn’t stand in his way.
* * *
FRAMED IN THE DOORWAY, THE SUN SHONE THROUGH HER BLUE flower-print sundress. Two thin straps were tied in bows at her delectable shoulders, and the elasticized bodice hugged her small yet perfect breasts. Her legs were bare and enticing. Gray’s mouth watered.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Is my chair ready, Coach?”
“In your naughty corner.”
Tossing her purse on the hall table, she flounced through the living room, then flopped down on the chair. Next to her on the small side table, he’d laid out many of the same implements and devices as before. Her legs slightly spread, one hand between them, she glanced over her shoulder to ask, “No mirror this time?”
He rounded the chair to stand in front of her. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do to you yet. There are so many possibilities.” He folded his arms over his chest, stared down at her, contemplating. He’d had numerous fantasies since the last time he had her at his mercy, but he was so close to her now that her scent rose to mesmerize him. All he could think about was dragging her to his bed, falling on her, taking her.
But that wouldn’t do. Not yet.
She raised one eyebrow. “A spanking?”
“Been there, done that.” He stroked his chin, rough with stubble. There hadn’t been time to shave when he got home from work.
She tipped her head. “Tying me up and blindfolding me?”
“And then what would I do with you?” What did she want him to do? He needed a clue to the inner workings of her mind.
“You’re the master here. I’m just the submissive. I’m at your command. But if you really haven’t decided . . .” A slow smile grew on her face and her eyes twinkled. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
“Do tell.” His blood pumped faster through his veins, and his cock throbbed with desire.
Tucking two fingers into his waistband, she hauled him closer. She sifted through the toys on the table, pushing aside the vibrator, the ball gag, the butt plug.
Then she held up a red silk scarf. “Use this on me.”
“Where?” To tie her up, gag her, blindfold her? They were all heady possibilities.
“Tie my hands behind my back.” She bit her bottom lip, blinked rapidly. “But first we’ll do this.” She tugged on his belt, pulled it free, then yanked on the top button of his jeans.
All four popped free, and his cock bulged hard against his briefs. “Oh, look at that,” she whispered, glancing up. “You look ready for something, Coach. Something very big.”
Christ, he was ready. “But you’re the one who needs punishing.”
“And that’s just what we’ll do, Coach.” She fluttered the scarf at him. “You’ll tie my hands behind my back.” She demonstrated, and the sight of her in that position made his blood roar through his ears.
“Then what?” He was surprised his voice didn’t crack.
She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “Then you’ll force me to suck your cock.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Isn’t that a perfect punishment?”
Hell, yes. Because it was what he was dying for. Her lips wrapped around his flesh, her tongue on him.
“Do you want to blindfold me, too, Coach?” she asked, her voice sweet with childlike innocence.
“No. I want to see your eyes. And I want you to watch as I feed my cock to you.”
“Then you better tie me up really quick, Coach, or I might just take matters into my own hands.” She stroked down the front of his briefs, her fingernail grazing him from tip to base.
He grabbed her finger. “Uh-uh-uh. Not until I say. After all, this is your punishment.” He was supposed to be in charge, yet he liked the turnaround. He liked the games she wanted to play.
Tugging the scarf from her grasp, he circled to her back. She already had her hands in position.
“You want to try everything, don’t you?” he whispered at her ear as he secured her wrists.
“Yes, Coach. I like being dirty with you. It’s fun.”
He wanted to see her eyes, and he leaned to the side, pulling her chin toward him. A fire burned in the depths of her gaze. He felt an answering spark. “There are so many things we can do,” he murmured.
It sounded like a promise.
“Make me take you, Coach. Now.”
When he was in front of her again, he fisted his hand in her silky black hair, twisting it around his palm once, and pulled her face down to his cock. She nuzzled him, her warm breath heating him.
“Make me taste you, Coach. You know you want to. You need to.”
She was the seductress. And he needed it bad. In this moment, she became the master and he was her slave.
9
YANKING DOWN HIS BRIEFS, GRAY LET HIS COCK SPRING FREE. LOLA licked his length, and a tremor ran through his body. He barely suppressed the groan that rose up in his throat.
Running her tongue through his slit, she swiped away a drop of pre-come. “You taste good, Coach.”
He tugged on her hair. “Suck me, baby.” He did not beg; he ordered, trying to at least show some sense of control, even if he’d totally lost it.
“Y
es, Coach.” Her lips engulfed the head, and she sucked hard.
He swore and tipped his head back, savoring the smooth feel of her tongue on him. But then he needed to watch her.
And she was watching him, triumph burning in her eyes. He’d told her a woman held all the power when a man’s cock was in her mouth, and now she reveled in that power.
“Suck me all the way.” The words were a command, his tone hard, but of course she knew she had him. She knew he’d do anything. He’d denied letting a woman have the power like this in a long time. But he gave in to Lola. Easily. Swiftly.
She took him deep down her throat, sucked hard on the way up.
“Fuck.” He couldn’t help the word, the need in his voice. “Don’t stop. Faster.”
She gave it to him, hard and fast. His hand fisted in her hair, he showed her the rhythm he wanted, needed. But he wasn’t fucking her mouth; she was taking him. Owning him.
She slowed, grazing her teeth around the ridge, then drove him crazy with a deep suck on his crown.
“You sweet, perfect, dirty slut, just do it. Suck me. Make me come.”
Her mouth was supple, warm, wet, her tongue working all his erogenous zones. And her gaze beguiled him, her eyes so dark, so penetrating, seeing everything, knowing that she had him on the edge.
“Don’t stop. Fuck. Make me come.” He threw his head back, his hips pumping. But she wouldn’t give it to him, simply kept him riding that wild, crazy edge. “Fuck. Please. Lola. Godammit. Please.”
With those words, she set herself to the rhythm of his hips and took him to heaven. He lost it all then, his essence, deep down her throat, pumping, gushing, filling her. He pulled her close, held her head, kept her there, his legs trembling beneath him, until the last shock waves died away.
Lola looked up at him. She was definitely the cat that ate the cream, every last drop. She licked her lips. Then she licked his cock, cleaning him.
The Naughty Corner Page 8