by Renee Rose
Though she'd been dying to give Luis the third degree about his intentions with her, she couldn't bring herself to ruin the mood. They'd shared the pizza and wine, and talked about art and movies and the sort of topics normal for a first date. She was relieved to find they seemed highly compatible—if art and movies were how you judged compatibility. It was probably a better indicator than their shared interest in spanking, though. Or maybe not. That spanking had satisfied her needs on so many levels.
Claire rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. She looked beside her on the bed. Luis was gone. Her chest tensed as she slid out of bed and walked through the casita. The front door stood slightly ajar, the chair he'd used to prop it closed now leaning against it from the outside.
He was gone.
Her heart beat faster as she looked around to see if he'd left some kind of note—anything—to acknowledge the night they'd just shared.
Asshole. What an asshole. She paced her cramped quarters, her mind spinning. How could she let a man she hardly knew spank her? He'd bared her bottom and spanked her to tears and just walked out her door without so much as a goodbye?
She felt almost more violated by Luis than she had by the burglars. How could she ever face the man again and retain one shred of dignity? She certainly wasn't going to see him as a client anymore—that would be unbearable. And God, what if he told people? It was a small town—if he even told one person, it would spread like wildfire. She sat down on her couch and put her head in her hands. This was so awful.
Needing to take action, she sprang back up and marched to her bedroom, pulling her cell phone off the charger. She searched for Luis's phone number in her contacts, but then remembered she didn't have it there. Damn. She strode back to her living room to retrieve her client intake forms. Bingo.
She dialed the number, her heart hammering in her chest. She wasn't sure if she was disappointed or relieved when he didn't pick up, but she wasn't surprised.
“Hi Luis, it's Claire calling. I just wanted to let you know that...ah...I won't be able to see you again as a client. Yeah. And, uh, that's about it. Okay. Bye.”
She ended the call, feeling stupid. Was that really the best you could do? Damn the man, he had always made her nervous. She walked back to the kitchen and opened the fridge, staring at its contents without seeing. How humiliating. How utterly humiliating. What had she been thinking? She knew at the time she wasn't okay with casual spanking. Why hadn't she discussed it with him before she'd let him pull her panties down and take a hairbrush to her ass?
Because it would've ruined the mood entirely, that's why.
There was something so hot about the way he'd just taken her hand and led her down the hallway as if she had no choice in the matter. That was the kind of spanking relationship she craved. The domestic discipline variety with a strong man willing to lead. But not a machista pig who didn't think a woman was capable—no, she wanted it both ways. A progressive man, who respected her as an equal, but brought her to heel simply because they chose that sort of relationship. She'd thought for a moment last night as she lay in his arms, that Luis could be that man.
But she'd been dead wrong.
The sound of tires in the gravel outside jerked her back to reality. She closed the refrigerator door and walked back to the living room. It took her a moment to comprehend what she was seeing. Luis was back, wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing the night before, unloading a very large object from the back of his Lexus SUV. She blinked and walked to the front door, pushing the door open and leaning against the doorway to watch.
It was a new door and frame.
Oh.
She went completely still as she absorbed that. Luis Valdez, the mayor of Taos, had gone to the hardware store and bought her a new door and frame at 7 a.m. that morning. And he hadn't even stopped at home for a change of clothes. Her attitude adjusted swiftly as she took in this new information, a glow of happiness flushing down to her toes.
She stepped outside in her bare feet, moving out of his way as he propped the new door and frame against the adobe wall of her casita. “Good morning!”
“Good morning.” He leaned in for a kiss. “There's coffee for you in the center console if you want to go grab it.”
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I can't believe you—this is incredible.”
“Yeah, let's just hope I can get it installed,” he said wryly. She walked gingerly over the gravel in her bare feet to the SUV and retrieved the two cups of coffee he'd bought for them.
He was busy tearing out her old doorframe when she returned. “Go ahead and set mine there,” he said, nodding toward the windowsill.
“What can I do?”
“Do you have a hammer?”
“Yep, I'll get it.” She fetched the hammer and handed it over.
“Thanks. Now, how about breakfast?” He flashed her that magnificent dimpled grin.
She melted on the spot. “You betcha.” She couldn't stop smiling up at him.
Luis was already back to his task, and she stood there watching him, fascinated by the manly way he was managing the project. He must have sensed her stare, because he turned back and raised an eyebrow, then reached out to smack her ass. “Hurry up, I'm hungry, woman!” He threw in a wink, probably to show he was play-acting.
She giggled and hurried inside, suddenly nervous about the mayor in a new way—a giddy schoolgirl kind of way. A very happy, giddy schoolgirl who was going to make a breakfast fit for a king.
~.~
She was cute in the morning—her bed-tousled hair looking even sassier, the flush of sleep still in her cheeks. And that wide, grateful smile…he could get used to that smile.
Installing a door with the frame was a lot easier than trying to hang a door in an old frame. Her landlord would probably have done it for her, but who knows how long he would have taken. Claire’s security was at stake, and she literally couldn’t leave her place or be alone at night there until it was fixed.
He started the work of prying out the busted wood with the claw side of the hammer. By the time he was ready to install the new door, a wonderful smell wafted from the kitchen. The sizzle of bacon or sausage, and the smell of onions, garlic, and potatoes teased his senses.
He was relieved that despite her waif-like appearance, Claire seemed to enjoy food as much as he did. There was nothing worse than a girl who ate like a rabbit.
“How are you coming?” She stuck her head out the door. She still wore her pajamas, which consisted of a pair of three-quarter length leggings and a divinely threadbare dance t-shirt under which he could see the enticing form of her braless breasts.
“I'm at a good stopping place. Is breakfast ready?”
“Yep. Come and eat.”
She'd set the table formally, with orange juice in wine glasses and cloth napkins. The table was absolutely heaped with food—all the fixings for huevos rancheros including diced potatoes fried up with onions and rosemary, black beans, scrambled eggs, cheese, bacon, and red and green salsa. As if that wasn't enough food, she'd also made an entire plate of French toast, lightly dusted with powdered sugar, served with what looked like real maple syrup warmed up in a bowl.
“Oh my God,” he said with awe.
“You said you were hungry.”
“Don't get saucy with me, young lady,” he said with mock sternness, and her eyes flickered, her mouth widening in a slow, appreciative smile. She liked to be dominated. He never would have guessed it, and somehow the fact that she was a bold, independent young professional woman made her submission all the sweeter. He hadn't thought he was ready to date, but when fate delivers the perfect package, you don't walk away from it.
He served himself a huge helping of both the huevos and French toast and popped a forkful of eggs and beans in his mouth.
“Mmm.” His eyes rolled skyward. The food was delicious—his mother would have approved. In fact, there was nothing about Claire his mother wouldn't approve of, unlike his ex-wife, whom his
family had never taken to. They had especially hated her for the scandal she'd caused in leaving him to move in with a woman, but he held no resentment. It had been a relief to realize the reason why they'd never seemed sexually compatible was actually because she preferred women. The split had been as amicable as a divorce could be, and they'd worked together to make the changes as smooth as possible for their boys.
He cleaned his plate in record time, then sat back and watched Claire eat, reminded of the way her lush lips had widened around his cock the night before. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and turned it on.
“Oh!” Claire looked disconcerted. “I left you a message, but you can just delete it.”
He put his phone to his ear to listen, watching as the agitation on her face grew. Clearly, she didn't want him to hear the message. He nodded as he heard her voice.
She actually stood up from her chair and reached, as if to grab the phone from his hand.
He jerked backward, pressing the phone to his ear, listening to her strained, angry voice on the message, comprehension dawning. She must’ve thought he'd simply left in the morning.
He turned off the phone and put it back into his pocket, keeping his face blank.
Claire watched him anxiously. “I—ah…”
He sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. “You thought it was a one-night spanking—or shall we call it a spank and run?”
She spread her hands and shrugged. “You didn't leave a note,” she accused.
“You're right, I should have left a note,” he said mildly.
Claire stood up and began to pace the length of the small galley kitchen. “Listen, we need to talk. I—I'm not looking for…uh… a play partner.” She enunciated the last two words slowly as if saying something that caused her tongue to rebel.
He sat back in his seat, waiting to hear what objections she had that he would have to overcome. Because by now, he had decided—Claire was definitely worth the effort.
“Look, like I told you last night, I don't sleep around. What we, er, did isn't something I feel casual about.”
He hid a smile, amused that she seemed unable to say what they'd done aloud.
“And I don't go to BDSM events, or play-parties or whatever you call them. I especially don't just run around giving head to any guy who buys me pizza.” She stopped and looked at him with entreaty.
“Am I any guy who buys you pizza?”
Her face flushed, her full lips parted, but no answer came out.
He stood up and approached her, slowly, as if she were a nervous horse he didn't want to startle. “Am I, Claire?”
She swallowed and shook her head.
He cupped her jaw in his hand, tracing the line of her cheekbone lightly with his thumb. She was at least ten years younger than him, maybe more, with the glow of youth still radiant. Her flawless skin was golden, her brown eyes large and wide set, with thick black lashes that curled. She wore no makeup, yet looked stunning in the light streaming in through the window, cheeks flushed a dusty rose that was echoed in a darker shade on her lips.
“Claire,” he soothed. “It wasn't a spank and run. I'm not looking for just a play partner, either. And the last time I had my cock sucked was by my ex-wife over a year ago.”
She met his eyes at that. “Really?” Her tough façade crumbled away to show a vulnerability that touched his heart.
He stepped closer to her and bent his face close to her ear. He trailed tiny kisses along the outer edge of her ear. “Really,” he assured her, his voice sounding husky. “And I will not allow you to stop seeing me as your client, or your potential boyfriend or your…dom.” He drew back to watch her face as he said that last word with waggled brows, his hands lowering to gently hold her shoulders.
The pink of her cheeks deepened beautifully but her brows furrowed at that last word. She blinked several times in quick succession.
“In fact,” he said musingly. “I think that saucy message deserves another spanking.”
Chapter Three
Claire drew in her breath, stiffening under Luis's gentle hands. His eyes lowered to her breasts and he took one of her pebbled nipples between his thumb and forefinger, tugging and pinching as he murmured, “Someone's excited about being spanked.”
“No, I'm not,” she contradicted, though her body clearly didn’t back up her words. The trouble was, she wasn't looking for a “Dom.” As hot as Luis's spanking the night before had been, erotic spankings weren't really her thing. She didn't want to be kinky, she wanted to be disciplined—she wanted a man who would make her a better person, hold her accountable through spanking, lead so that she could follow.
Luis tipped her head to the side and kissed behind her ear. “No?” he asked, his breath hot in her ear. He lowered his head to one of her protruding nipples, sucking at it through her t-shirt. Her hands went to his head and she closed her fingers in his thick wavy hair, gasping with pleasure at the sensation. “Not excited here, Claire?” he quizzed.
She drew in an uneven breath. She couldn't seem to answer him. He hadn't understood what she'd been trying to tell him. This wasn't what she wanted. A breeze from the open doorway came through the kitchen, and the thought of someone seeing her being spanked in her own kitchen made her freeze. She craned her neck to see past Luis and look out the door.
He chuckled. “You don't want a public spanking?”
She tried to give him a playful shove, her hands connecting with the solid muscle of his chest and not succeeding in moving him in the slightest.
“I have an idea. I'll install your door. You pack an overnight bag. Then we'll head up to my cabin in the ski valley for the night. I can show you what happens to naughty girls and you can tell me more about these play-parties you mentioned.”
He was making fun of her. Her cheeks burned. Her insides were liquid with desire, but an underlying anxiety about the direction their relationship seemed to be headed overrode it. Despite his promise that it wasn't a “spank and run,” he was moving way too fast and his primary interest appeared to be erotic spanking.
Which wasn't the worst thing.
But she wanted something a bit different.
She shook her head slowly. “Look, I'm grateful for your help today, but I really can't do this. I don't date clients, for one thing. And this is all going way too fast, for another.”
He blinked at her, his face inscrutable.
“You don't have to worry about the door, my landlord will get to it, eventually. And I will definitely see you as a client again—I'm sorry about that message. I guess I overreacted.”
Luis looked at her for a long, silent moment. Then he turned and left the kitchen.
She held her breath, waiting to hear the sound of his SUV start up. Her breakfast sat in her belly like a brick and she felt like an ungrateful bitch. But she'd done the right thing. Mayor Valdez would have broken her heart. He was rapidly on his way to fulfilling all the requirements of the man of her dreams, and she couldn't bear to get that close to perfection on a fling.
The sound of a drill made her jump. She caught her breath and peered around the corner. Luis was back at work on her door as if she hadn't just given him the boot. She watched him drill another screw through the casing into the rough opening. She could tell he knew she was watching, but he chose to ignore her.
She bit her lip and retreated to the kitchen, slowly washing the dishes with hands that trembled slightly. She hid in the kitchen, cleaning every last crumb from the counters and floor before she finally emerged.
As it was, it didn't matter, because Luis still ignored her, interested only in his job, which appeared to be mostly finished. She slipped into the bedroom and made the bed, picking up clothes she'd scattered on the floor, before moving onto scrubbing her toilet. She heard the door opening and closing several times, and then strained her ears to identify the muffled sounds coming from her living room. The door opened and closed once more and she heard his SUV start and drive away. A wave
of regret washed over her. He was gone.
She walked slowly into the living room and admired the new door. He'd left the keys on her entry table, on top of a note. She picked it up, her heart starting to beat faster.
Please reconsider.
6 pm for dinner
(Overnight optional)
1372 Hwy 150, # 45 Taos Ski Valley
-Luis
She swallowed and wiped the sweat of her palms on her leggings. Damn him for tempting her.
But no. She couldn't do it. The butterflies in her tummy were almost unmanageable. If she was this nervous thinking about getting spanked again by the mayor, how awkward would it be if things didn’t work out? She’d lose him as a client, for one thing. But that was the least of it. She’d see him all over town and would probably turn beet red knowing he’d humiliated her. Not that there was anything wrong with humiliation—it was part of what turned her on with spanking. But getting humiliated by someone you’re in a long-term relationship with is one thing. Doing it with someone you hardly know and then seeing them out in public later—totally another.
No, she couldn’t do it. She shouldn’t do it.
To keep herself from temptation, she called her friend Skye and arranged to meet for her drinks and dinner in the plaza. What she needed was a good dose of normalcy. A distraction. Getting involved with Mayor Luis Valdez was not an option. Period. Exclamation mark.
Skye sailed in straight from her job as a realtor and gave her a big hug. “How’s it going?”
She grimmaced. “It’s been a weird couple of days. Let’s just say, I could really use that margarita I ordered.”
As if on cue, the waitress arrived with her drink and took their food orders.
