The Naughty Corner (15 page)

The sun hadn’t quite dipped behind the mountains, but it cast long shadows across the road, and darkness would fall soon. Gray’s car was at the far end of the Park and Ride. Since it was so long after rush hour ended, the lot was close to empty. She pulled in next to him.

All he did was jerk his thumb at her, indicating she should get in beside him.

Her blood had been pumping hard since the moment she’d received his instructions. Of course, she’d sounded snooty, but she didn’t care that he hadn’t called for three days. He was back and he was hot for her. She knew it, felt it in her bones. And she was hot for him. How he made her feel was all that mattered. She wouldn’t think about the future or the end of football camp.

She slid into the seat beside him. His jaw was deliciously stubbled. Why that turned her on so much, she couldn’t say, but she’d loved the feel of it between her thighs. Her fingers itched to touch him.

“Where are we going?” She tried to use the same clipped tone she’d employed on the phone, but her voice came out slightly breathy.

He held up the long red scarf. “Cover your eyes with this.”

She liked the intrigue. She could feel herself already getting wet for him. “Whatever you say, Coach,” she answered, still with that clipped, haughty tone. She tied the scarf over her eyes. Made of some soft material that wasn’t as slippery as silk, it slid into place and stayed where she patted it down.

“Don’t peek,” he instructed as he started the engine and backed out. The car swayed into the turn out of the parking lot. He was heading back toward the hills, away from town.

“You still haven’t said where we’re going.”

“And I’m not going to.” His deep voice trailed like a lick down her spine. “It’s a special place where I will have my wicked way with you.”

She thought of his fantasy, having sex with her in front of a crowd, and shivered. It had a frighteningly sexy appeal. She imagined him filling her, then pulling off the scarf to reveal an ocean of avid faces watching their every move. Her skin tingled with anticipation.

“Tell me more. Tell me everything you’re going to do.” There was the edge of pleading in her voice.

“Whatever happened to the rule about not talking unless I give you permission?”

“Oh, did we have that rule?” she said quickly. “I must have forgotten.” She put her fingers to her lips. He certainly hadn’t been good at enforcing it the last couple of times either. He seemed to pick and choose when the mood struck. But he was obviously in the right mood now.

He tugged on the bottom of her denim skirt. “What are you wearing under there?”

Ah, the rule. She was allowed to answer if he asked a question. “Nothing, Coach.”

He stroked up under the material, his fingers hot on her skin. “Good girl.”

He’d made a few turns, then they seemed to have reached a winding, rutted road, the car bumping along. The sun was falling behind the mountains, everything getting darker behind the scarf.

Then he pinched her nipple, and Lola squeaked. Oh God. How was he able to make her enjoy that? It should have hurt. Instead, it was like a direct current straight down between her legs.

“No bra,” he said, and she could swear his voice was a tad huskier. “Good girl.”

She wanted to say
Yes, I’m a very good girl.
But he hadn’t asked a question, so she wasn’t allowed to answer.

She squirmed in the seat, squeezing her legs together, intensifying the pleasure he’d begun.

“What are you doing, Lola?”

“Making sure I keep my libido up while we make this long drive.” She wanted him to touch her. Was she allowed to ask?

Before she could say a word, he said, “Pull your skirt up.”

Oh yes, yes. Just what she wanted. She wriggled until the skirt rode just above her hips.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered, and there was a new harshness to his tone.

Lola pulled one foot up onto the seat, her knee falling to the side. And she was exposed.

“Now touch yourself for me.”

She groaned. She wanted him to do the touching, dammit. But she was such an obedient girl, she tipped her head back against the seat and put her hand between her legs.

“Let me taste how wet you are.”

She adored his carnal nature and held out her hand for him. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her arm until she leaned forward, then he licked the tips of her fingers.

“How can you drive and suck at the same time?” she murmured.

He didn’t admonish her for talking. “I can drive and do a lot of things. I can also drive while
you
suck.” The car headed into a bend, came out, turned into another, bouncing into a rut. Where on earth were they going?

“Is that an invitation for me to . . . ?” She left the question hanging.

“No. Touch yourself. That’s what I want.” He let go of her wrist.

She was ripe for him, ready. He’d had her on edge since this afternoon when he’d called as she was on her way to pick up the boys. And she did exactly as he demanded.

“Do I have your permission to come, Coach?” she ventured, cocking her head in his direction as if she could see him from behind the scarf.

“If you can come in five minutes, because that’s how long it will take to get where we’re going.”

She imagined a mansion in the hills. Only rich people lived on this side of the freeway, multimillion-dollar houses with fabulous views.

“Tick, tick, tick,” he said softly.

Then all she wanted was an orgasm as he watched. She closed her eyes—since she couldn’t see him anyway—and found her clitoris by touch. Giving him a sexy little moan, she bit her lip, sensation rippling through her.

She was wet, her skin hot, her nerves tingling as she stroked. “Can you see me in the dark, Coach?”

“I can see everything. Your dirty hand down there, your pretty little pussy. You are gorgeous like that.”

They hit another rut, and the extra hard contact of her fingers shot an adrenaline rush through her.

“Make yourself come, baby. You’re so goddamn beautiful when you come.”

He always complimented, always rewarded. Even when he’d spanked her. Her fingers moved faster. Her body rose. She panted. And her orgasm shimmered on the horizon.

“Do it for me, baby. Because I love how hot you make yourself. You don’t even need me to do it for you.”

She needed his voice. She needed his eyes on her. She needed his desire.

“Christ, I want to pull over right now and do you here.”

His words sent her over the edge.

* * *

SHE WAS MAGNIFICENT, HER SKIN ALABASTER AS THE MOON ROSE
overhead, her lips parted on a sexy moan that wrapped around his cock, her body trembling with release. He loved watching her pleasure herself. He loved watching her inhibitions melt away. Because she was doing it for him. He freed her.

The wheels went off the road, bumping hard for a moment before he corrected. The track was not well maintained, the car dipping and bouncing. He hadn’t traveled it for years, not since he’d brought Rafe out here to hike eons ago. Before the divorce, when his son still loved him. The county had let the area fall into disrepair, and not many people even knew this trail was hidden back here in the hills.

And here was where he wanted to have her for the first time. In the open air, trees and sky and stars above them.

She settled into her seat, her leg still crooked beneath her, skirt above her hips. Her scent filled the car, filled him.

“Did I do good, Coach?” Her voice was soft, a little dreamy, after-orgasm languid.

“Very good. You always please me. I am
never
disappointed”

She smiled.

He let the car roll to a stop. What had once been a dirt parking area was now a mere clearing, the weeds and scrub having reclaimed it. He could no longer distinguish the trailhead, especially not in the dark. The setting was excellent—secluded, private, yet still out in the open.

“Get out,” he directed.

She put her hands to her skirt, starting to shimmy it down.

“Take it off. Completely.”

She hesitated only a moment, then unzipped it. Planting her feet on the floorboard, she rose slightly to shove it down her legs. His heartbeat sounded like a drum in his head. Her milky-white perfection stole his breath.

Opening the door, she was gloriously naked from the waist down, her legs long, her ass pert and beckoning. Luckily she’d chosen sandals instead of high heels. He hadn’t thought to prepare her.

Outside, night sounds abounded, crickets, an owl hooting, a coyote’s far-off howl. It was now full dark, and moonlight fell through the trees, illuminating the small clearing.

“Over here.” Taking her arm, he guided her to a tree at the edge of the hard-packed dirt.

She was exposed. She was vulnerable. She was willing to do anything. And she was his.

Bracing her body with his, he put her hands on the tree trunk. “Hold on.” Then he stepped away, grabbed her hips, and pulled her back until her bare ass was neatly presented to him.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” His gruff voice left an ache in his throat. Need rode his belly. The drive had heightened his anticipation. Watching her come tied his insides in knots. He needed. He wanted.

“No, Coach.”

He slapped her ass hard, his palm stinging.

She cried out for him.

“Do you want another one?”

She gulped a breath. “Yes.”

He smacked her again, the erotic sound rising into the warm night.

This time she moaned. Her juices slicked his palm. He put his hand to his mouth, tasted her. Jesus. So sweet. So good. “Another?”

“Yes, please.” She panted, then added, “More than once. Don’t stop. You have so much to punish me for.”

Holy hell, she was absolutely perfect. He swatted her over and over, his fingers connecting with her pussy, probing, stroking. Until her body trembled with need, and she was begging. “Please, please, please,” a pant between each repetition, a sob in her voice.

“Do you like it, my sweet little slut?”

“Yes. You know I do. I love it. Please.”

She was close, her scent signaling her readiness, her need. He smacked her once more, then quickly entered her with two fingers. And her body contracted around him, dragging him deeper. She screamed, deep, full-throated, ending with a long, sexy wail of pure pleasure.

Nothing had ever been so good for him. No woman had ever reacted so perfectly. No one was like Lola.

13

SHE CLUNG TO THE TREE, HER BODY SCREAMING, WAVES OF
sensation rolling through her. Her legs trembled. Oh God. He was so good.
This
was so good.

There were sounds, insects, birds, and the rustle of clothing, the tearing of a condom package. Then warm hands at her hips. His body over hers.

She cried out as he entered her. The pain of intrusion was exquisite, rippling through her. “Oh God, yes, I needed this.”

She’d been dreaming of his possession, lusting for it.

“You need a man inside you, deep, taking you, forcing you.” His voice was rough, like the scrape of a razor over bristles. “You need possession, utter and complete.”

She needed
him
.

He took her relentlessly, pounding against her, the slap of his body almost like the smack of his hand. Everything tingled, half pain, half pleasure. She barely managed to maintain her hold on the tree. Then she was pushing back on him, taking even as she was taken. Throwing her head back, she gasped, then cried out his name. Her whole being centered on their joining, the points of contact, the contractions, the thunder and lightning inside and out. He didn’t put his hand between her legs. He didn’t touch her beyond that hard grip on her hips and his cock deep inside her, yet he claimed every part of her. And everything suddenly imploded, drawing down to one spot inside, the nub of her femininity. And she flew apart in his arms.

Seconds, minutes, hours later—who knew how long—she was on the ground, surrounded by male heat, male scent, male strength.

Lola was incapable of moving. She wasn’t quite capable of thought either. She could only drink in sensation and air to breathe, feel the hard beat of his heart against her and the puff of his breath in her hair until it slowed.

“Why do I like it?” she whispered.

“Because pleasure and pain are two halves of the same sensation.”

“But I don’t like it if I stub my toe or knock my elbow.”

He laughed. “Stubbing your toe isn’t sexual. My hand on your ass is extremely sexual.”

Oh yes, it most assuredly was. Her butt still stung, yet the pain was definitely pleasurable. She could still feel the heat of his hand on her, his fingers caressing her with each stroke of his palm.

“Why do you like it?” she asked.

“Why do you always ask
why
?”

She asked why in her job all the time. It was natural. She had to know everything so that she could write it down in terms anyone could understand. But she couldn’t write down in layman’s terms why she kept coming back to him for punishment or why he needed to administer it.

“I like to understand things.” It was the best she could offer.

“Because it feels good.”

“Yes. But not everyone would think it feels good. Why do we?”

“I’ve never had a woman ask. They either say no, or they want more.”

A tiny pang wormed its way beneath her rib cage. She really didn’t want to think about all those other women. “Like I do?”

She felt the brush of his chin across her hair as he shook his head. “No. No one’s been quite like you.”

Something starving inside her wanted to hear more. Probably shades of all those years of living with Mike’s incessant criticisms.

“But why do you like to hurt me?” She’d asked Mike the same question, but with Gray, the connotations were completely different. Because she loved what he did to her, no matter the why of it.

“It isn’t about hurting you. Or about the pain.” Then he was silent a long time. A coyote pack went wild in the distance, yapping, closing in on their prey. In the tree overhead an owl hooted. Lola wanted to remove the scarf, tip her head back, look at him.
See
him.