by Jane Henry
The nerve!
“I can’t believe you talk to people this way.”
We make it to the door and he opens it, allowing me to go through. “You haven’t seen anything yet. If you were mine, I’d have you bare-assed on that bench, lecturing you to kingdom come, giving you triple what you just got, and you’d apologize to Master Tobias before I let you dress again. Princess, I’m takin’ it easy on you.”
I can hardly believe men like him still exist, let alone thrive, and I’m just about to breathe out an indignant huff before I realize that won’t get me anywhere, and I need a ride home. I don’t have time to wait around for a taxi. I need to get home to my son.
“Thanks for taking it easy on me,” I finally say. I try not to let the sarcasm show. “And yes, please, I’ll take that ride home. I need to get home as soon as I can.”
“Where do you live?” he asks.
“Not far from here.” Chad and I live in a tiny apartment nearby. Though I earn a decent income, I’m still at entry level and saddled with student loans. His dad hasn’t paid child support in six months, and I don’t have a lot of wiggle room in my budget, especially now that I have to pay the babysitter more than I’d planned.
And now I’ll have to find a way to fix his car. I groan. Why couldn’t he own a beat-up pick-up or something? Oh, right, I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to key a truck. I was so hell-bent on revenge after drinking myself silly at the bar with Beatrice, I desecrated a car worth more than the building I live in.
“Car’s out front,” Tobias says, then his lips quirk up as if he just remembered something. “Oh, that’s right. You’re very familiar with where my car is.”
I huff out a breath. “Glad you’re amused. I, on the other hand, feel like smacking myself.”
“Nah, babe,” he says. “You don’t beat yourself up. No smacking yourself.” He grins. “I’ve already done that for you, anyway.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, and my ass tingles at the memory. Jesus, the man can swing a paddle.
As we head to his car my phone buzzes. I groan when I realize it’s my babysitter.
Will you be home soon? He’s awake and scared. The fire alarm beeped and it’s freaking him out. Panic shoots through me. The fire alarm? But then a second message flashes on the screen. No fire. Batteries need to be replaced.
Thank God. I look up and realize we’ve made it to his car. My stomach churns as I look at the awful scratch marks that gleam in the light of the moon. Wow, I totally did a thorough job. For a moment I wonder to myself, what would it feel like if someone had done that to my car? All things considered, maybe he was taking it easy on me.
But when my ass hits his leather seat, I think otherwise.
Chapter 6
I watch as she winces slightly when she sits, and I stifle a smirk. Good. The little brat ought to feel a good sting when she sits down after the small, but firm, paddling I gave her. I’d taken it easy on her. Zack would’ve lectured the hell out of me for not reporting the vandalism. It had been an accident, sort of, but the deliberate disobedience hadn’t been. Still, after the last smack landed and I no longer saw red, I wondered how she’d react until she mouthed off.
Then, I was glad I’d spanked her ass.
I slide into the driver’s seat. Jesus, the sight of her belly-down over that bench, her gorgeous curves on display… if she were mine, I’d have done more than spank her fully-clothed ass.
“Where am I taking you to?”
“Hawthorne and Maine.” With a nod, I punch the address into the GPS, and pull onto the busy street.
“How’s your son?” I ask. I hope mentioning her son will maybe bring a little peace between us. I don’t expect her to look out the window and refuse to answer. I wonder if she heard me.
“Diana?”
“He’s… okay,” she whispers, her voice catching. “Fire alarm went off and it freaked him out, but the text was from a little while ago. Hopefully he’s settled now.”
I nod. Has to suck, knowing your kid was freaking out, and you weren’t there. But seriously, how’s a woman who looks that damn good old enough to have an eight-year-old kid, anyway? I figured the conversation was over, so it surprises me when she talks again.
“You have any kids?”
“No. Divorced, though, so I’ve been there, done that.”
She laughs mirthlessly. “Yep. Me, too. And maybe you think it’s weird I’m freaking out over an eight-year-old who’ll miss me if he wakes up, so I might as well just tell you, my son’s… got some issues.” Her voice catches at the end, but she clears her throat and squares her shoulders.
“Oh?” I take a left and slow as we near a stoplight.
“Yeah,” she whispers, turning to look back out the window. I won’t pry. “Understood.” I try to speak gently. Mamas are bears with their children, and I’ve seen how feisty she can be. I don’t want to push her away, or somehow discourage her from talking about what she obviously needs to talk about. As a dominant and owner of Verge, I’ve got some experience handling highly-charged situations. I’ll give her the space to talk as much or as little as she wants. “Got a nephew on the spectrum. Teen, now. Awesome kid. Makes killer calzones. But yeah, he’s had his fair share of challenges.”
“Yeah,” she whispers. “So has Chadwick.”
“Like, say, having a name like Chadwick?” As soon as I speak I wonder if I’ll touch a nerve, but she rolls with it.
“Hey!” She laughs, then groans.
“Just pullin’ your leg, babe.”
“No, it’s fine. It was the pretentious ex that named him. Turns out it was a family name, and it was expected we use it. So, whatever. I call him Chad. His father can call him Chadwick.”
I grin at her. “Atta girl.”
She shifts in her seat. “Thanks,” she says, the edge returning to her voice. She’s reserved and a little pissed-off again. Jesus, her moods swing like a fucking pendulum.
“How’s your ass?” I gently remind her of what her attitude can get her.
“Perfectly toned, thank you, Pilates.” She glares.
“Nice evasion.”
“I didn’t evade anything! You stretched me out on a spanking bench.”
“Annnnd we’re back to square one.”
“Here’s my apartment coming up, Tobias. Please pull over here. Thanks for the ride.”
I pull up in front of where she tells me to, a worn-down complex surrounded by tall buildings. Diana opens the door despite the fact that I’m opening mine at the same time. She doesn’t know how I like to do things, so I don’t blame her. I’m a little on the old-fashioned side, and I like to be the one to open the door for a woman who sits her ass in my passenger seat. But as she walks up the stairs near her home, I follow her. I need to make sure she’s okay before I leave, the memory of what Zack told me earlier haunting me.
Diana looks with surprise over her shoulder, her hazel eyes curious and something else. Pleased?
“Did I leave something in the car?”
I shake my head, feeling a little sheepish. Has she never had someone watch over her before? “No, just makin’ sure you get upstairs all right is all.”
“I’m fine, Tobias.” The ice returns to her voice then, as she puts her hand on the door knob to her home.
“No doubt you can handle yourself,” I reply. leaning back against the rail. “But you weren’t involved with the conversation I had with the NYPD tonight.”
Her eyes cloud and she shakes her head. “I did overhear a few things.”
“Let me walk you upstairs?” Her eyes shoot to the curb where my car sits before she turns back to me, and bites her lip.
Her eyes grow troubled, and she says nothing at first, as if she’s warring within herself, but then she shakes her head. “No, thank you. Good night, Tobias. Thank you for driving me, and for being so understanding about the… incident involving your car. I’ll be sure to contact you in the morning.” She opens the door to her apartment building, st
eps in, and shuts the door behind her, not giving me so much as a backward glance.
I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth once, twice, three times.
She damaged my car. She defied me and threw me sass. And yet, there’s something about her… something I can’t seem to ignore.
It’s the spanking you gave her, dumbass, I lecture myself as I walk back to my car, shaking my head. I’m conditioned to feel shit for women I dominate, to get hard making them squirm in pain, to protect them. I’m done with this chick, other than making sure she pays me what she owes me. And she will, or she’ll answer to me.
Chapter 7
I stand with my back to the entryway door to my apartment building, my eyes closed tight. I listen as he walks away, not moving until I hear the door to his car close, the engine turning over, and then pulling away from the curb. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I breathe in deeply, preparing myself for whatever Chad needs tonight. I’m spent, though. Exhausted.
“I’m such a bitch,” I whisper to myself, tears pricking my closed eyelids. “Everything he did… he was almost nice, and I was nothing but a bitch. He must hate me.”
I feel a tear roll down my cheek but don’t stop it. Shaking my head, I give myself the lecture I need to hear.
You are not a bitch.
It’s been a stressful night.
And he’s nothing to you anyway.
But no… it’s a lie. Since my husband left me, I haven’t felt anything even close to what Tobias awakened in me. The arousal, fury, and raw attraction he causes frustrates me because I can’t control it.
And as I walk up the rickety stairs that take me to my apartment, I can’t get him out of my mind. I can still feel the way my body heats at the sound of his voice, still feel the smack of his goddamned paddle on my ass.
And hell if that didn’t turn me on.
I shake my head, attempting to clear my mind, but as I hit the top step and take my keys out of my pocket, my phone buzzes.
It’s Tobias. Don’t forget to call me tomorrow.
I frown.
I told you I would and I’m a person of my word. I’ll call you by eight.
I humph as I slide my key in the lock. Another buzz.
Just reminding you.
For Christ’s sake. Thangks
Ugh. I type again.
Thanls
Shit! Growling out loud, I type with finality.
THANKS!!!
No need to thank me three times or to yell, but you’re welcome.
He sends a smiley face with its tongue sticking out, then Sleep well, Diana.
I can hear his deep voice bidding me goodnight.
Smiling in spite of myself, I push open the apartment door, and brace myself for whatever awaits me. Thankfully, everything is calm when I enter. Mandy’s fast asleep on the couch, her thick copy of Anatomy and Physiology half open beside her on the coffee table, her head lolling to the side as she softly snores. I can’t help smiling. Mandy is a good babysitter, but she is a full-time college student and babysits for several people in the building. She’s often asleep not much longer after Chad goes to bed.
The small apartment’s tidy, and I feel a peace settle inside me, the peace I always feel when coming home. I inhale the light scent of cinnamon from the candle on the coffee table—unlit, as Chad freaks around lit candles—and slide out of my heels, sighing with relief. I can’t wait to get into my pajamas and crawl into bed. Gently, I nudge Mandy, who sits straight up with a gasp.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I whisper, trying not to wake Chad. “I’m home and just wanted to let you know. Want to spend the night here?”
Mandy often crashes on the couch after babysitting, and leaves for school in the morning.
“Mmm,” Mandy mumbles. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Night, honey. Sleep well.” I lift a folded blanket from the back of the couch, and flick it open over Mandy, who falls back asleep almost immediately.
Sleep well.
A small gesture. A simple phrase. Still, my chest warms at the thought, and I allow myself a brief moment of fantasizing about him saying those words to me while I lay beside his strong, sturdy frame, as he tucks a blanket around me.
It isn’t about the sex. I just want to sleep next to him.
I imagine him yanking his shirt off and stripping down to his boxers, then joining me in bed. My body warms at the thought.
Ok, it’s definitely about the sex, too.
I pad down the carpeted hallway to check on Chad, my eyes now heavy with exhaustion. The door to his room is halfway open, as he likes it. He hates having his door closed and needs a nightlight to sleep. The little wand-shaped nightlight is plugged into the wall, illuminating a half-circle behind it, and his soft breathing calms me. Mandy was good to get him back to sleep when he woke. Many nights, he needs me to help him back to bed, or listen to him talk about his dreams, or sit by his side and hold his hand until he falls asleep. His father left us in the middle of the night—packed his bags, and when we woke in the morning, he was gone. Chad hates going to sleep.
Chad’s light brown, curly hair falls onto his forehead and pillow, his sweet face at peace in sleep. A well-worn copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone lays on the table next to him. I watch as his shoulders rise and fall in slumber. I like how the little worry line between his brow softens when he sleeps. In the morning, he’ll be full of questions for me about what I did tonight. But for now, he sleeps, and I’m grateful.
Padding back down the hall, I walk to my bedroom, take out a fluffy pair of sky blue pajama bottoms and a tank top and toss them on the bed, then strip out of my clothes. Exhaustion makes my limbs ache, my eyes are scratchy from lack of sleep. I step out of my panties but before I slip into my night clothes, I walk to the full-length mirror that hangs on the back of my bedroom door. Biting my lip, with a sharp intake of breath, I spin around to get a good glimpse of my ass.
The skin’s a bright pink, and there’s even a rounded shape on one cheek. A mark from the paddle.
My heart thumps wildly in my chest, even as my mind goes crazy.
Get him out of your mind. He SPANKED you. Only crazy people do that.
Philippa hadn’t seemed crazy, and she was definitely a regular. Hell… Tobias didn’t seem crazy. He’s just… stern. Old-fashioned.
It doesn’t even make sense that pain makes you horny.
No! God, no, I’m not horny, I lie to myself, turning around to take in my naked breasts, full, with peaked nipples.
He hadn’t even kissed me. He’d only spanked me.
I keyed his car! Besides he isn’t boyfriend material. God.
I practically run to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed.
I will not fantasize about Tobias. I will not pull out my trusty vibrator and replay the spanking he’d given me, or fantasize about being tied up, or anything like that.
Nope. No way.
But as I close my eyes, the memory of his strong, sturdy, sexy as hell body comes to mind and despite my mental protestations, I find myself fantasizing, my hand between my legs working myself to climax at the memory of the spanking bench, and his deep, commanding voice, before I drift off to a restful, dreamless sleep.
“Mama? Mama, you awake?”
I roll over, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, and looking at my tousled-haired son staring down at me.
“Do I look awake?” I mutter in a sleepy growl.
“You do now.”
I laugh. “Fair enough. Morning, sweetie.”
Chad throws his arms around my neck and squeezes tight. “I missed you last night.”
Nodding, I push myself to sitting in bed and yawn widely. “I missed you, too, baby. Did you have fun with Mandy?”
He nods. “We played Uno. I won.”
“You always win at Uno.”
“Yup. It’s because I’m really good at it.”
Chad doesn’t pull any punches, but states the bald facts.
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He tips his head to the side. “What’s for breakfast?”
I sigh and close my eyes. “Cereal. Lemme sleep. Ugh, I’m exhausted. What time is it, anyway?”
I don’t have anywhere to go on a Saturday morning, because I work Monday through Friday when Chad’s in school.
“It’s seven oh-nine.”
“It’s still dark out,” I mumble, before a bright light and the snapping sound of shades being lifted make me sit up straight in bed.
“Chad!”
He shrugs. “Just making it not dark in here anymore.”
“Hmph. Thanks.”
I glance at my phone. I told Tobias I’d call him by eight, but now that I’m waking, my stomach churns with nerves.
I don’t want to call him.
I won’t shirk my responsibility for what I did, but I don’t want to deal with the arrogant son of a bitch straight out of bed either.
Ok, so maybe he’s not exactly an arrogant son of a bitch. I think of how he walked me to the door and held my hand when I had an anxiety attack.
The memory of him spanking my ass flashes in my mind, too.
Yeah. He’s a jerk.
I follow Chad, noting that Mandy is gone, when the door buzzes. Chad goes into the living room and taps the intercom.
“Yeah.” Remembering to greet people is a social skill we’re still working on.
“Chad,” I chide. I’m in no position to entertain anyone. I don’t even have a bra on.
Chad looks at me and shrugs. “Hello. Who is this?”
For a brief moment, I panic. Is it him? Would he come back so soon?
“Beatrice here! Lemme up, kiddo.”
Chad pushes the button without responding. I go to the coffee maker, grab a pod from the basket on the counter, pop it in and push the button. I need coffee, pronto.
“You shouldn’t drink that,” Chad rebukes, standing in the other room with his arms crossed on his chest. “Caffeine is bad for you.”
“An uncaffeinated mama is bad for you,” I retort. “Trust me. Hazardous to your health,” I mutter, as the delicious liquid sputters then streams into my cup. A knock sounds at the door.
