With Hearts Aflame: Valentine's Day Box Set

by Maren Smith

  I tried to lie still and take my punishment, I really did, but I was crying again as soon as he spread my cheeks. By the time he was sliding something in my bottom, working it in slowly by pushing and pulling to gain access, I was sobbing again. Not so much from the pain, though there was some of that, as from the realization that I’d done this to myself, just like he said. What if he decided I was too much trouble? I worried. Who could blame him?

  When Brandon helped me off his lap he bent forward and kissed me chastely on the forehead. “How do you feel?”

  “Uncomfortable,” I admitted, staring at my feet.

  “That’s how it’s supposed to feel, unfortunately for you. Now come have some lunch.” His voice had returned to its normal relaxed tone, but my fears made me feel out of place. “Eat,” he encouraged, but I just stared at the table he’d set with sandwiches and bags of chips, rocking on the balls of my feet. “You need to sit down.”

  “Oh, thank you, but I—” The look that Brandon wore told me that I better get my butt in the chair, and fast. I complied fast enough, but I winced as my full backdoor hit the hard wood.

  “How is work going?” Brandon asked as he took a sip of his bottled water, deliberately pretending that everything was normal.

  I was glad someone could. Then again, he wasn’t the one wearing one of these… whatever they were. “We’re having some… technical difficulties currently.” I didn’t want to think about work right now—not that I could with what was going on down below.

  “You’ll get through it, especially if you have a better attitude.”

  “I will,” I told him meekly. “I promise.”

  He could have said a hundred things: he could have pointed out that I’d promised before, or said “we’ll see” or lectured me some more. Brandon didn’t do any of those things, just simply reached across the table and took my hand. It was at that moment that I knew for sure that I was in love.

  ***

  True to his word, right before we left the house Brandon had removed the awful torture device. He’d told me that it was technically called a “butt plug” but my assessment was much more accurate so I was standing by it. Even though I knew it was gone, I still felt its hard, penetrating presence and it reminded me to be on my best behavior for the rest of the day—which was exactly what Brandon had intended.

  I’d called Jack in to apologize, and though it was hard, somehow I got through it. If the words sounded a bit stiff, well, it was the first apology I’d ever given any employee that wasn’t along the lines of, “I’m sorry, kiss my ass”.

  If he’d looked stunned after I told him I was sorry, the look on his face when I’d offered him the rest of the day off was priceless. To his credit, he didn’t take it, insisting we were too busy for him to leave. I had to admit, that bit of dedication impressed me and made me look at him a bit differently. Not much differently, but it was a start.

  Givens had returned my call while I had been out on lunch, and when I called back and got him on the line, I talked calmly about our position. I reminded him that we had more share holders and more money, that we would buy his company eventually and could have taken it right out from under him.

  “It’s going to happen sooner or later,” I said. “Make this easier on your employees and yourself. If you agree to a merger, you will save us all a lot of time, money and unneeded headaches.”

  No matter what I said, Givens had a rebuttal ready and didn’t seem the least bit worried about what I was saying. Normally, such a thing would have unnerved me to the point of sheer panic, but the spanking I’d just gotten took away some of the urgency from this situation.

  Before we hung up, he even asked me if I was okay! Honestly.

  Brandon laughed about it later that night over dinner. “He didn’t know what to think about the new, calmer Karen?”

  “No one does,” I admitted, eating a forkful of green beans. “I kept getting weird looks all day.”

  “They’ll get used to it in time. And I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

  That right there, the love in his eyes and his sexy voice calling me sweetheart, that was all I needed. Never mind everyone else and their stares. I’d endured much worse throughout the years.

  Still, they were more persistent than ever the next day. It seemed like I couldn’t go anywhere without someone looking at me like I’d grown an extra head. I smiled at each and every gawker and managed a polite “Hi” but it was starting to get annoying.

  “Whoa, there, Karen.”

  I’d been so lost in thought that I’d almost bumped straight into my mentor, Mr. Boyles. “Oh, hi! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

  “Are you all right, dear?”

  There was no mistaking it; he was looking at me like I’d spouted tentacles or something. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You haven’t heard? How could you not know?”

  “Know what?” I asked, feeling my smile slip.

  “Karen, the merger with SunFilm…it’s been overturned. It’s not going to happen.”

  “What?” What was he saying? How was that possible? It wasn’t, I knew it wasn’t. I’d gone over all those details myself, crossed every t… I could hardly concentrate on what he was saying although I tried desperately to understand.

  “…their lawyers found a loophole… section eight… giving them the option to buy back…”

  It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible that what I’d been working toward for the past eighteen months had been flushed down the toilet just like that and no one had bothered to tell me. This couldn’t be happening.

  “People had to have been calling you, surely. The lawyers must have tried to get in touch last night when all this—”

  “I don’t have a phone.” The words came out a croak. “My assistant…” Words failed me. What could I say that would make one bit of difference? “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Karen, maybe you should sit down, you look—”

  “No, no.” I waved off the hand he put on my arm. “I’m fine.”

  But I wasn’t. How could I be? My dreams had gone up in smoke before I was even aware there was a fire. I’d spent countless hours, long nights and bi-monthly meetings going over and over this merger. This was going to set our company for life. This was going to make it possible for me to retire and find something that I actually wanted to do. This had been my ticket and now it was nothing more than a pile of shredded documents littering the bottom of a trashcan.

  I locked myself in my office, asking Jack to hold all my calls. I knew there would be a ton of them rolling in. First, probably Givens who would want to gloat. Then the reporters. My parents. It was too much; my head was spinning just thinking about it.

  My stomach roiled and I ran to the bathroom where I deposited the blueberry muffin and green tea I’d had for breakfast. When there was nothing else left, I lay my head against the cool porcelain bowl as tears ran down my cheeks. I wanted to stay in this room forever, curl up into a ball and die.

  ***

  The only thing that got me up off that floor was the realization that I was not the only one to blame. In fact, if the blame lay anywhere, it was with the man who insisted that I go out of my way to be someone I wasn’t.

  When Brandon opened the door, answering my loud, persistent rapping, I walked right past him into the house. “Karen. I didn’t know you were coming over.”

  “Are you busy?”

  “No-o.” He drew the word out, watching me warily. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m not okay, but I’ve been fucking polite, so that’s all that matters right?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My merger fell through!” I practically shouted. God, it felt so good to scream. “Everything is ruined and it’s your fault!”

  “My fault?”

  “You’re the one who told me to be nice! You’re the one who wouldn’t just let me be me! You—”

  “Slow down, let’s talk about this.”
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  I balled my hands into fists at my sides, nearly spitting as I snarled, “I don’t want to slow down! That’s what got me into this mess in the first place!”

  “I don’t understand, you never mentioned—”

  “Oh, that’s the best part!” I crowed. “I, the fucking-CEO, was the last to know! Because what have I been doing? I’ve been so busy with you that I didn’t bother getting a new cell phone.”

  “I’m to blame for that too, I suppose?”

  I narrowed my eyes into slits as I took in his calm demeanor. How dare he be so unruffled when I was dying over here! “I’m not going to see you anymore. I was crazy to think that a man who didn’t even let me be myself—”

  “I love you for who you are, Karen. I only ever tried to help—”

  “Ha!” I snorted. “Thanks, but no thanks. I can do without your kind of help.”

  “That’s it!” he snapped, the cool mask slipping a notch. “I am not going to sit here and listen to you go on like this.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re standing,” I pointed out. It was exactly the wrong thing to say, but by that point I didn’t give a damn. When Brandon reached for my arm, I danced out of range and turned for the door. He caught up with me and placed his hand over the knob, brushing his fingers over mine. I snatched my hand back as though his touch had burned me.

  “You’re not going anywhere until we talk about this.”

  “I am through with talking! I don’t have anything left to say! I—”

  “Well, good, because I have a few things I want to tell you.” With that, he pulled me to him, but I reached out and pushed his chest, trying to get away. I might as well have been shoving a bear—he didn’t move one inch. “Are you going to come willingly, or—”

  I reached for the doorknob again, but at that moment he put his arms around my waist and hoisted me over his shoulder. “Put me down!” I shrieked, kicking my legs. “Let me go!” I balled my hands into fists, beating them on his back. The less responsive he was, the more frantic I became. I twisted and turned to no avail—none of it stopped him from putting me over his lap once we got to the couch.

  “What did I tell you was going to happen the next time you didn’t listen?”

  “Don’t touch me!” I hollered. “Don’t you dare!”

  Smack. His hand came down on my upturned bottom so hard that for a moment I was stunned. Smack! The sound reverberated through the room like a gunshot.

  “Stop it, Brandon, I—”

  But he didn’t stop. He kept spanking me, his hand rising and falling tirelessly. I kicked and wriggled until I was panting and breathless from the effort. I was nearly spent, until I felt his hand snake to the front of my pants. There was only one thing I could do to stop this.

  “Saint Bernard!” I cried out at the top of my lungs. “Saint Bernard!”

  Instantly, he dropped his hand and helped me up. I didn’t even wait to regain my composure before I stood and marched toward the door. When I got there and reached for the doorknob, I turned to look at him. He was watching me, but he hadn’t moved from his place on the couch. I wanted to say something, but what? What could I say to excuse my shrewish behavior from mere seconds ago? What could I do to make him understand how confused I was?

  It doesn’t matter, I told myself firmly. Just go. It’s over now anyway. I turned the knob and let myself out, hurrying to my car before I could change my mind.

  Chapter 9

  Brandon

  I was in so much shock that I just watched as Karen walked out of the house, slamming the door behind her. Not three minutes later, I realized the gravity of my mistake, but by the time I’d run to the door she had already peeled out of the driveway. I could swear that she’d left a trail of smoke in her wake.

  I am going to have to have another serious talk with her about her driving, was the first thought that crossed my mind. Realizing that that talk would probably never happen was like a punch right in the gut.

  Every time I thought about her angry tirade I became more confused. I understood that her attempt to acquire SunFilm—what she’d referred to as “the merger”—had fallen through. Anyone with a television or a computer knew that, because it was everywhere. There had even been an article about it in the paper. I knew she was taking in every comment, reading every word and berating herself for what she perceived as a failure on her part. She was hard on people, everyone knew that. I wondered how many knew that she was much harder on herself. I doubted she’d gotten much sleep since the whole thing had begun.

  It had been forty-eight hours since I’d seen her last and if her assistant was to be believed, she hadn’t been coming in to work. He’d given me her home address, even as he acknowledged that he shouldn’t, and assured me that he would call me the moment she came in. After only one conversation with the man, I was convinced that he wasn’t at all inept, as she’d led me to believe. I added it to the list of things to tell her when—if I saw her again. The list was growing longer by the hour.

  As soon as he’d given me the address, I drove over to her apartment complex. Once I’d gotten there, though, I couldn't make myself get out of the car. I sat there for the longest time looking at the faded yellow paint, wondering idly why the woman who made more than most lawyers hadn’t found a nicer place to live. It was one of the many puzzle pieces that didn’t seem to fit with what I knew about Karen. I would love the chance to ask her, which was what finally convinced me move.

  I spotted her Porsche on my way in, parked haphazardly between two parking spaces. The sight of the silver paint gleaming in the sun gave me the beginnings of hope. If I could just talk to her, if I could understand where she was coming from, I knew we could work this out. What I wasn’t sure of was that she would give me another chance—maybe those few seconds that she’d turned and looked at me before she left was all I would ever have. If that turned out to be the case, I knew I would be kicking myself for the rest of my life.

  Jack had not only given me the name of her apartment complex, but also her room number—in for a penny, in for a pound. I took the stairs and climbed the three flights effortlessly, moving faster the closer I got. Until I got to her door. Then I stood there, looking at the faded gold 9A wishing that X-ray vision was my superpower.

  What if I knocked and she wouldn’t answer? What if she really meant it—that she didn’t want to be with me anymore? Did she really believe I didn’t love her? Question after question attacked my fragile heart until I was about to turn and run with my cowardly tail between my legs. I don’t know where I found the strength to knock on her door, but once I’d done it the doubts mercifully grew silent.

  My worried nerves grew quiet, I was enveloped by silence. There wasn’t a single sound from the other side of the door or down the hallway. I was halfway convinced I could hear the paint peeling, so I raised my hand and knocked again.

  “Karen! I know you’re in there!” I could practically see her, hovering on the other side of the door, struggling with whether or not to let me in. I leaned closer and lowered my voice. “Please, sweetheart, I know we can talk about this. We can work it out.”

  I don’t know how long I stood there before I realized she wasn’t coming. I leaned against the doorframe, musing that it might be as close to her as I would ever come again. I closed my eyes for a moment and pictured her in my mind’s eye. I imagined her in a stained, raggedy bathrobe, her hair stringy around her shoulders from neglect, her eyes red from crying. The image made my heart constrict to the point where I had to walk away.

  If I’d thought there was even the slightest chance she would let me in, I would have stayed. Hell, I would have broken down the damn door if I’d thought she’d be happy to see me.

  ***

  “Brandon, honey, didn’t you tell me you were bringing a date?”

  “Huh?” I peered at Ms. Simpton, the sweet woman who’d been teaching English here for over thirty years. She was a little bit of a thing, with silvery-white hair and glasses ma
king her look a little bug-eyed. I’d always thought of her as a grandma and treated her accordingly until I’d overheard her telling a sex joke in a faculty meeting. I hadn’t been the only one whose jaw had dropped open and it was still, three years later, the raunchiest joke I’d ever heard. “Oh, yes, but she, uh...she wasn’t able to make it.”

  “Poor dear,” she said, cackling. “She doesn’t know what she’s done, because now that I have you all to myself—”

  “You know, Ms. Simpton, I really should get to the buffet. I’m supposed to be manning the station.”

  “All right, but you be sure to save me a dance! And keep the kids away from the punch bowl.”

  “Did someone sneak something in it again?” I groaned.

  “Not someone, dear. I did. It’s my own recipe for Vodka punch.”

  “You are the one who keeps doing that at every dance?”

  “Of course, dear. Otherwise, what’s the point in coming?”

  “Ms. Simpton,” I gave her a stern look, “that’s very irresponsible. Especially considering that these kids are high schoolers, most of whom drive home. You know the principal always picks a kid or two to blame for it, too. Shame on you!”

  “Oh, stop being such a fuddy-duddy! It’s not like they don’t all think about doing it, I just beat them to the punch.” She paused for a moment and seeing that I wasn’t going to laugh at her little joke, she “hmmped” very loudly and left, muttering something about “party poopers.”

  Shaking my head, I made my way through the throng of sweaty teenage bodies, heading straight for the punch bowl. Every year, Ms. Simpton petitioned for the faculty to have their own punch bowl in the staff break area—now I knew why.

  “I’ll take that, thank you.” I began plucking half-full cups of punch from the kids standing nearby. “The punch is about to disappear, and if I so much as think one of you is drinking alcohol, I’ll haul your butt straight home and have a talk with your parents.” I leveled the group with the a stern glare—it was the same one that Ms. Simpton had so easily shrugged off, so I felt gratified to see the nervousness on their faces. “Well, don’t just stand here, spread the word. You guys are good at that, right?” They didn’t have to be told twice, and in fact seemed rather eager to get away from me. As soon as they’d slipped away into the throng of dancers I turned my attention to cleaning up the considerable mess.