The Naughty Corner (12 page)

“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 panties 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.”

“Wow.” Charlotte extended the word on a long breath. “Did you like it as much as the spanking?”

Incredible, stupendous, and magnificent didn’t begin to describe it, so she skipped all the adjectives. “Yes. Even better.”

“Naughty, naughty Lola.”

She laughed. In Gray’s house, she hadn’t been sure she’d ever be able to laugh again (only a slight exaggeration), but Charlotte could always bring out the levity in her, in anyone, for that matter. “It was kinda hot”—an underwhelming description of an overpowering event—“then his son dropped by.”

“And you were A, on the couch bound, gagged, and naked with a man between your legs; or B, untied and naked; or C, fully dressed. Or none of the above.”

“I was in the bathroom. His son never saw me. But he figured out his dad had a woman there, and he called me a slut and said he hated Gray.”

“So now he’s Gray?”

Lola could picture Charlotte’s raised eyebrow. “Coach Barnett. But we are engaging in some sexual activity, so I do occasionally think of him as Gray.”

“All right. First, how old is his son?

“What difference does that make?”

“The level of trauma, of course.”

“Aren’t kids always traumatized by the thought of their parents having sex?”

“Lola,” Charlotte admonished.

“Okay, he’s seventeen or thereabouts.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“Teenagers are a species of their own.”

Lola sighed. “Tell me about it.” The twins weren’t just a different species; they were from another planet.

“What did the coach say to you afterward?”

“What a man normally says. That it wasn’t my fault, yadda, yadda.” There was a lot of banging and clanging out in the kitchen, but she wasn’t going out to investigate. She’d given the boys a chore, and she wouldn’t check up on them, at least not until they were done.

“Does the coach want you to come back?” Charlotte prodded.

“He says he needs to keep punishing me for the twins’ misbehavior.”

“Then what’s the problem? He’s a big boy. He can handle his son.”

“Charlotte, they’ve got issues. I don’t want to get in the middle of that and make things worse. You’re a psychologist. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say?”

“If I had Coach Barnett and his son in my office, I would be working on
their
problems. But I’m talking to you about your problem. And quite frankly, it’s only a problem if
you
make it one. He doesn’t want to stop. You’re both adults. And you’re both enjoying it.”

“But I don’t want to complicate the situation with his son.”

“I would never counsel an adult to stop having a sex life simply to make their child happy. That isn’t a solution. It’s merely giving in to pressure. And the issue is almost always about something else.”

“I have no idea what their issues are.”

“If it will make you feel better, why don’t you ask the coach?”

“No way.” Ghost jumped onto the bed beside her, flopped down, and began to clean her paws. Lola scratched her ear.

“Lola, do not use his son as an excuse to stop seeing him.”

“I’m not.” On the contrary, she didn’t want this to end. But she wasn’t a kid person and she didn’t know how to handle kid issues. And well, she was thinking about something else, too. “I just—” She stopped, not really sure how to verbalize it.