“Was that good, Coach?” She fluttered her eyelashes.
“You fucking know it was.” He was still throbbing, sensation rippling across his skin.
“I see what you mean about the woman having all the power.” She laughed. “And I even did it with my hands behind my back.”
“You sound a little smug.” He stepped back, tucking himself back into his jeans and fastening the buttons.
“Because you loved it.”
“And you think that means you’ve turned the tables on me.” He buckled his belt. She’d most definitely turned them on him, but she was enjoying the power way too much.
She stood up and licked her lips once again. “Look who has all the power now,” she whispered.
He was on her in a second, lifting her high, and tossing her down on the couch, forcing an oomph of air from her.
“What are you doing?” She struggled to rise, unable to get leverage with her hands tied. He grabbed two implements off the table.
“We’re far from done. I still haven’t punished you.” Then he fell on her, pushing her down into the couch cushions.
She bucked beneath him, but without the use of her hands, she couldn’t throw him off. “Let me up.”
“You gave me an idea earlier.” He shoved the ball gag in her mouth and secured it. “Gagging.” Then he slipped the blindfold over her head and patted it against her eyes. “Blindfolding.”
She wriggled, furious noises distorted by the ball in her mouth.
“And now you’re mine to do with as I wish,” he whispered close to her ear.
* * *
SHE WAS HIS PRISONER. HIS BODY PINNED HER TO THE COUCH, HIS legs flung over hers so she couldn’t even kick him. The taste of his come was still on her tongue. It had been so good. She’d been in charge, had made him quake with release. Yes, it was power and it was heady.
“Did you like that little taste of power, Lola?” he murmured against her ear.
She screamed. Nothing much came out. She’d loved taking him in her mouth, making him come, swallowing him. But she’d wanted to walk out still holding all that power.
He shifted and the spaghetti straps of her sundress fell away. He tugged the top down over her breasts. Air brushed her flesh. His hot mouth took a nipple. He licked, sucked. Then he bit her. She screamed, the gag muffling the sound, and a wave of exquisite pleasure rushed down between her legs.
“Look how hard your nipples just got. And I do believe you’re wet.” He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “I can smell how wet you are.” His warm breath sent a shudder through her.
She couldn’t say why being unable to see or speak or move should intensify every sensation, but it did. Her bound hands had splayed out beneath her, supporting her bottom. She felt his jeans rough on her skin, his cock still hard against her, his breath sweet and warm. His voice strummed a chord inside her.
Still pinning her, he yanked her dress up to her waist. She was naked now except for the band of material. Then his hand was between her thighs. Oh God, oh God.
“See how wet you are.” He caressed her with slippery fingers.
She was no longer fighting, her body moving with his touch, begging for more. She arched into him. Please take me, please, please, please. How easily he made her beg.
He moved again, his hand on her breast, his fingers swirling around her nipple. He pinched hard. She bucked and writhed against him, her body on the cusp of climax. She couldn’t see, couldn’t talk, there was just his voice, and his magic fingers working her.
“You love the sweet pain. It makes everything hotter, intense.”
Yes, yes, yes. She shoved her head back into the couch and tried to rub herself against him. How had he done this to her so quickly? Zero to sixty.
He crawled down her body, spreading her legs, falling between them. She could have kicked him. But all she wanted was—
He put his mouth on her.
—that, oh God yes, that.
He suckled her clitoris as he reached up to tweak both her nipples. Licking, sucking, pinching, he made her stark raving mad with need. Beneath the mask, tears leaked from her eyes. Her body was cruising just below climax, reaching, straining for it.
He abandoned one nipple and, once again with the speed of light, entered her with two fingers. He was everywhere, her breast, her clitoris, inside her, a slow, relentless stroke across her G-spot.
Please, please, please.
It started with the small bang of a firecracker inside her, sweeping out, gaining momentum, turning everything molten in its path. She screamed around the gag, cried behind the mask, her body contracting, releasing, exploding. She was nothing but a mass of nerve endings and sensation.
Until finally she became aware of his weight on her, his rough clothes on her skin, his body heating hers, the scratch of his stubble on her chest.
God. It couldn’t get any better.
But her arms were starting to ache slightly with the awkward position, her hands trapped beneath her.
His lips moved against her hair. “Look at who has all the power now,” he said, throwing her words back at her.
He did. And it was just as good as when she’d had it.
Tugging the blindfold off, he tossed it, then removed the ball gag. Her jaw ached slightly, and she rotated it a moment.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded hoarse.
“Very hot.”
Then he kissed her, his lips wet with her juice. Her flavors mixed with his. His tongue stole into her mouth, played with her. Oh. Yes. He cupped her head, held her as he angled, opened a little wider, went deeper. Oh my. God. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized that he’d never kissed her. But oh, how good he was. When he pulled back, she was dizzy.
And her hands were free. He’d untied her as he kissed her.
“I like the way you taste, Lola. I like the way you come. You’re perfection.”
She’d never met a man so sensual, so into touch and taste and kinky things, sexual without even getting inside her. The men she had known were all about the end result, intercourse, sometimes even skipping all the sexy foreplay. With Gray, foreplay was an end in and of itself.
“Somehow that didn’t really feel like punishment,” she said slowly, her voice dreamy.
“Punishment doesn’t have to feel bad.”
It most certainly didn’t.
Then she realized her dress was stuck around her middle. She yanked it up.
“Here, let me. Since I untied them.” With light caresses, he fashioned the straps into little bows at her shoulders.
She stood, and he smoothed down the skirt for her. Then, still seated on the couch, he shook his finger at her. “Naughty, naughty, you weren’t wearing panties again.”
“I took them off in the car.”
“Such a dirty little slut.” His gaze was shiny with laughter and the lingering heat of desire. No man had ever made her feel wanted the way he did. Intensely.
Lola wanted to touch him. She wanted to bend down and kiss him again, long and sweet. “I have to go.” But he could have begged her to stay.
He stood and ran gentle fingers through her hair. It was probably a mess.
“Can I fix myself in your bathroom?”
“Of course.” He held out a hand in invitation.
She couldn’t go home with her panties in her purse. What if someone accidentally looked inside her bag and saw what they shouldn’t see? Grabbing her purse off the hall table, she scampered down the hall, her sandals slapping on the hardwood.
She paused at the open door of his bedroom. And for one brief moment, she saw herself spread-eagled on the bed, hands tied to those dark wood bedposts. Her heart did a fast triple beat.
Then she closed the bathroom door. Two bright spots of color flamed in her cheeks, and her hair was a mass of tangles. She tamed them with a small brush. Being naked beneath the dress was decadent, sexy, and deliciously slutty, to use Gray’s word. But she retrieved her p
anties from her purse and stepped into them.
She hadn’t challenged him about whether the twins had actually misbehaved. What was it, unnecessary teasing? She hadn’t questioned, didn’t care. She wanted to be here. She wanted the things he did to her, craved the new sensations. A ball gag. It was so Betty Paige, the bondage actress from the 1950s, and so exciting. She imagined having Gray truss her up with ropes so she couldn’t move, then spanking her until her bottom was red and she was creamy with desire. She wanted anything and everything he dished out.
This punishment thing might actually be getting out of hand.
Semi-satisfied with her reflection, she opened the bathroom door. And froze when she heard voices.
“I wanted to talk about the car, Dad.”
Dear God. His son was in the house. Had he seen the stuff in the living room? The chair? The sex toys? The ball gag?
“It’s not a good time right now, Rafe.” Gray’s low, modulated tone.
Okay, they were still in the front hall, not the living room. Lola hugged the wall just inside the bathroom door.
“Why not?” Rafe’s surly voice.
“I’m busy right now,” Gray said patiently. “I told your mother we’d look at cars this weekend when you’re with me.”
Of course. He probably had some sort of arrangement for when his son stayed over, the wife having one weekend, Gray the other.
“I want to talk about it now. Because Mom said you were going to buy some used piece of crap. She says she doesn’t want a junker in her driveway so all the neighbors can see.”
“Rafe,” Gray said in his stern coach voice. “We’ll talk about it this weekend. Right now, I’m busy.”
Silence lasted five seconds that felt like forever. “You’ve got a woman here, don’t you?”
“I said I’m busy.” Each word was clipped, harsh.
“You’re seeing some slut on the side, aren’t you? Mom was right.”
“Do not use that word in a derogatory manner about any woman.”
Yes, only use the word when you’re punishing some hot little slut on the couch while you have her gagged, tied, and blindfolded. Lola closed her eyes. It had been so good. His son’s words turned it into something sordid.
“Your mother doesn’t know anything about who I see or what I do. It isn’t her business.”
The boy’s voice rose an octave. “It’s my business. Because your women were always more important than Mom.” He paused, added, “And me,” like it was an afterthought.
“Rafe,” Gray broke in. “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas. I always have time for you.”
“Not tonight. You told me to get out. And you’re going to buy some piece-of-shit car because I’m not good enough for anything else.” He was shouting now. “I hate you.”
Then the door slammed with a reverberation that seemed to rock the entire house.
Her feet were frozen to the tile floor, her fingers stuck to the wall like skin on iced metal. She didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to know it. She didn’t understand kids. She didn’t know how to comfort a man whose son had just told him he hated him.
And how many women did he really have?
“You can come out now,” Gray called.
She was breathing hard. God, she didn’t want to. But she had to at least act like an adult.
He stood at the end of the hall, a behemoth filling the opening.
“I’m really sorry,” she said, almost stammering. “I parked in the street, not on your driveway, so people wouldn’t think—”
He was suddenly there, his fingers over her lips. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry you had to hear that. I don’t know what’s going on with him.” His eyes, usually so dark and commanding, were a soft, aching brown. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t come here again.”
“Let me worry about that.” He cupped her cheek, his voice dropping to a sexy note that seemed to stroke her all over. “Tonight was excellent. You were perfect.” He ran the pad of his thumb along her lips. “And I have a duty to keep punishing you whenever the twins misbehave. I can’t break that bargain.” He searched her face, looking for something.
“Of course. We have a bargain,” she agreed. “You can’t kick them out if I accept their punishment.”
“Good girl,” he whispered. “You’ll have to keep coming back as long as it’s necessary.”
She would. She wanted his punishments. Oh hell, she needed them. From him.
* * *
GRAY WANTED TO PUNCH A FIST THROUGH THE WALL.
How could Rafe’s timing have been so off? Actually, if he’d walked in ten minutes earlier, when Lola was bound, gagged, blindfolded, and Gray’s head between her legs, well, that would have been worse.
Her face had been red with mortification, her eyes wide. Jesus, what a fiasco.
All he had to do was buy Rafe the fucking car, a new one, with all the bells and whistles. Bettina would be happy. Rafe would be happy. But then he’d be gone again. All Rafe wanted was the car. He’d say and do anything to get it. But all that crap about Gray’s women? That was Bettina’s poison. Gray had no way of combating it. He’d never introduced Rafe to any of the women he’d seen after the divorce. He didn’t date. He had women he slept with, women he played with, but he’d kept all that private. He’d never chosen a woman over Rafe.
Until today. He’d sent his son away. He’d chosen Lola.
Grabbing the phone, he dialed Bettina. “Rafe was here,” he said when she answered.
“Yes, he asked to borrow the car so he could drive over to talk to you man-to-man.”
Right. Bettina had probably sent him. “You might have given me a little warning.”
“Why?” Her voice was laced with sly innuendo.
“You know why, Bettina. Because you want a new car, and I’m getting him something used. Stop working him up.”
“I am not. He’s seventeen. All he wants is a little freedom to go out with his friends without having to beg me to drive him or let him use my car.”
“I’m not saying that’s unreasonable.”
She went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “And if you weren’t such a cheap—”
He cut her off. He wasn’t getting into this with her. Arguing only made things worse. “Look, he was upset when he left. Call me when he gets home so I know he’s okay.”
“Fine. Whatever,” she snapped. They were usually at least civil to each other. He figured that once the car issue was settled, their relationship would return to normal.
He’d suffered through a sex life with Bettina that was practically nil for an excruciating twelve years. She’d kicked him out anyway. Nothing he did or didn’t do ever made things better with Rafe. And the truth was his son was acting more like he was still twelve instead of seventeen.
Lola was the only thing that made life bearable at the moment. So hell, no, he wasn’t giving her up.
10
“YOU KNOW, AUNT LOLA, IF YOU KEEP WEARING DRESSES AND skirts, we’ll start to think you’re going on a hot date instead of working.” Harry always had to say the one thing that would set her off. It was like she had a button on her forehead screaming Push Me.
She wouldn’t let it get to her, not after that horrible scene in Gray’s house. She flared the sundress. “Oh, this old thing? It’s just so hot in the labs, I didn’t want to roast alive.” The labs were actually freezing. She’d once again used work as an excuse to get out of the house.
In the kitchen, she found the expected mess. Tomato seeds had dried on the cutting board along with streaks of avocado and bits of wilted lettuce. The counter was covered with enough bread crumbs to feed a flock of blue jays. All she’d done was ask them to make a couple of sandwiches for themselves for dinner. Was that so hard? “How could you possibly use five plates and all this cutlery?” she called out.
Harry shouted back, louder than necessary. “We had more than one sandwich.”
“You could have used the same plate.” She took a glass from the cupboard to pour herself some seltzer water.
“Mom said it gets bacteria.”
Their mouths probably had more bacteria in them than a plate could pick up in the time it took to eat two sandwiches. “I asked you to clean up after yourselves.”
“We will,” Harry answered.
“Before we go to bed,” William shouted.
She marched around the corner of the dining nook and glared at the two of them. As usual, they were on the couch with their ubiquitous electronic devices deployed. “Now,” she said.
His gaze riveted to his laptop screen, Harry’s lips turned down. “But, Aunt Lola—”
“I’m not your but. Clean it up now.” Then, when William opened his mouth, she added, “And I’m not paying you to do it either.” They thought they should get paid for every chore, even if it was cleaning up the mess they’d made.
“Oh, man.” Harry put his laptop on the coffee table.
“Jeez,” William groused, his fingers moving a mile a minute on the mini-keyboard of his smart phone.
“Now, William.”
“Fine, I finished my text.” He tossed the phone on the couch.
She left them mumbling in the kitchen. She’d probably have to repeat their cleaning efforts, but she was not letting them get away with turning her into their maid.
The end of Ghost’s tail twitched against the dust ruffle of Lola’s bed. The cat thought that if she couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see her.
Closing the door, she climbed on the bed, plumped the pillows behind her, and sent out an emergency Charlotte text.
Can you talk?
Two seconds later, her phone rang.
“Did they set fire to the school?” Charlotte asked.
“No. But Coach Barnett has a kid, and he almost caught us.”
“Doing what?”
“What do you think?” Lola fiddled with the fringe of a pillow she’d hugged to her abdomen.
“The price for my advice is dirty details.”
“We were . . . um . . .” What the hell, Charlotte was her best friend and she’d heard it all. “He had me bound, blindfolded, and gagged. And he was doing things to me with his mouth.”
The Naughty Corner Page 9
