The Naughty Corner (6 page)

She was surprised to find it was dark outside. She hadn’t realized how long the whole episode had taken. Her butt tingled as she drove, an incessant reminder. And her body still hummed with sexual satisfaction.
Yum
. That was the only word for it. She’d heard of bondage and submission and sadomasochism and all that stuff. Nipple clamps and other clamps. She shuddered at the thought. She’d been afraid to mention those devices just in case he decided to use them on her.

But then he’d tossed her out. If he hadn’t kept her panties, she’d have been worried that he might not demand she come back for another punishment.

And she wanted to go back. Badly.

It was crazy. But it had been so good. He’d talked about enjoying his power over her. She’d enjoyed being at his mercy. And those brass balls, good God. They’d made her lose her mind.

Oh yes, she wanted more. She wanted him to send her to the naughty corner over and over. Who would have thought she would adore being . . . well . . . abused? Especially after the way Mike, her ex-husband, had treated her. Though
abuse
wasn’t the right term for all the things he’d said to her. He’d just picked. And picked. And
picked
. Nothing she ever did was right.

The coach’s house wasn’t far from her condo, and all too soon she was pulling into her carport. With the door open, she checked her hair and face in the mirror. Her lip gloss was gone, her cheeks flushed. She fixed the gloss, smoothed her hair, and made sure there were no telltale signs. Except for the missing panties. Not that the twins would suspect anything about
that
.

Music, voices, and the sound of bodies crashing emanated from the condo’s living room as she entered. Charlotte and the twins were obviously watching some sort of action movie.

The front door opened onto a small tiled entry, the bedroom hallway straight ahead. A louvered sliding door slightly to the left hid the closet where she kept her coats, umbrellas, towels, and linens. The condo was compact but had room for everything if she utilized each square inch efficiently. She padded past the kitchen, into the living room. Ghost was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding under her bed. Harry—well, that could have been William—was sprawled on the carpet, a pillow beneath his head. Charlotte hugged one corner of the couch, and William—yes, that
was
William—slumped in the other, his feet propped up on a small hassock. Like good boys and girls, they’d all removed their shoes, but the pizza tray sat on the coffee table alongside paper plates soiled with sauce, bits of pineapple, and stringy cheese. One lone piece of pizza was left to congeal on the tray.

Lola’s stomach rumbled. She’d powered down a bowl of cereal, that was all, before she’d headed out. But though the pizza called to her, she wasn’t going to eat it. As objectifying as it sounded, when you met a new man, you had to start counting every calorie.

On the big screen, a girl dressed in a violet miniskirt tossed a spear through a bad guy.

She gasped. “Oh my God, you’re watching
Kick-Ass
.”

Charlotte glanced up, smiled. “I love this movie.”

But it was violent. And the girl doing all the damage—not to mention the bad language—was only twelve or so. Maybe she was even younger; Lola had never been sure.

“They can’t watch this.” Wasn’t it R-rated? “That kid kills people.”

“Only bad guys,” William said, his gaze glued to the TV screen.

“Yes, but—Charlotte,” she hissed. “Violence.”

“Everything has violence these days. Kids are used to it.”

“Yeah, Aunt Lola,” Harry chimed in. “And we know it’s just fake. It’s not like we’re suddenly going to put on superhero suits and start killing people.”

“Or jump off skyscrapers,” William added, “because we think we can fly.” He glanced up at her. “We’re not stupid. We understand the difference between reality and fantasy.”

“At least there’s a message in
Kick-Ass
,” Charlotte said, siding with the boys. How could she, for God’s sake? She was a guidance counselor and a therapist.

“What message?” Lola demanded.

“That you have to stand up for weaker people who can’t stand up for themselves,” Harry said. “Even if you could get hurt yourself.”

Right. So that’s why they’d been picking on Stinky Stu.

Harry rolled onto his stomach and looked at her. “If the movie is so bad, why do you have it in your collection?”

Because, well, she loved the movie, too. But it wasn’t a kids’ movie. Or maybe she was just afraid that Andrea would hear about it and have another hissy fit. “Do
not
tell your mother when you talk to her tomorrow.” Andrea insisted on Skyping the boys every morning, and Lola usually managed to be absent. Though sometimes she was dragged in. Maybe tomorrow she’d have to listen just to make sure.

“Come on,” Charlotte murmured—like a devil on her shoulder—“have that last piece of pizza and enjoy the movie.”

Lola gave in, grabbing a paper plate and flopping down in the one vacant chair, her bottom tingling in a delicious reminder. Why not add pizza and a violent movie to all the other naughty things she’d done this evening?

Charlotte nudged her foot when the credits finally started rolling. “It’s time for a nice glass of wine out on the deck.”

Lola knew what that meant. Charlotte wanted her payback: details.

Harry rolled to look at her. “Thanks, but Mom’s totally against us drinking until we’re twenty-one.”

Charlotte kicked him lightly as she walked by. “You poor kids, you’re so deprived.”

In the kitchen, Lola pulled the bottle of wine from the fridge. “Don’t encourage them,” she said softly. They liked Charlotte, a hell of lot more than they liked Lola.

“They’d probably be a lot better if Andrea would lighten up a little,” Charlotte whispered back as she got down the glasses.

Lola poured. “It’s too late for that.”

Harry and William were playing video games as Lola and Charlotte crossed to the sliding glass door. Her deck wasn’t large, more like a balcony, but had enough room for plants and a couple of chairs. Her condo was along the back of the last row of buildings and overlooked the canyon below. The forest lay in darkness, but on the far side, another housing development lit up the crest of the opposite hill.

They propped their feet on the railing, sat back in the chairs, and gazed up at the stars.

“Dish,” Charlotte said. “Every naughty detail.”

“He’s kinky,” Lola said, weighing how much she could keep to herself and still satisfy Charlotte. Sex talk actually embarrassed her.

“So he spanked you?” Charlotte was a therapist, more specifically, she was a sex therapist, and while she never revealed anything a patient said to her, Lola knew she’d heard some amazing things. Facts slipped out in phrases like
Did you know some people actually do—
insert kinky act
—or they try doing—
insert an even kinkier act
?
Charlotte knew all about kinky acts.

“He made me hold on to this old-fashioned wooden chair. You know, the kind they used to have in schools ages ago. Hard and straight-backed.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Must be something from childhood. Like he had an old nun as a teacher who used to paddle him, and he’s re-creating the experience.”

“He said he likes the power of a good spanking.” Lola immediately regretted the words. Gray’s history wasn’t her business, and she shouldn’t share it.

Charlotte, however, moved on. “Did you like it?”

Lola tipped her head. “Have you ever been spanked? As an adult, I mean?”

“No. But I’ve heard it can be quite satisfying. And if
you
agree with that, I might have to try it.” She shrugged. “As a therapist, I should probably try everything.”

“I—” Lola started, stopped. “It—” She stopped again. Then she let herself go. “It was absolutely amazing.” She lowered her voice as if the boys could hear through the closed door and over the sound of video gunfire. “I actually had an orgasm.” Her face heated in the darkness. She hoped Charlotte couldn’t see. And she didn’t mention the brass balls.

“Oh, you dirty little bitch.” Charlotte laughed. “You’re a closet submissive. Would you let him do it again?”

In a heartbeat. “Yes, I think I would.”

“Did you have sex after he spanked you?”

Lola shook her head.

“Did he come, jerk off”—Charlotte lifted her shoulders—“blow job?”

Lola shook her head. “No, he just spanked me.” Was that bad? Did it mean he didn’t want her? Or that he was impotent? Except that he certainly hadn’t
felt
impotent. He’d been hard and throbbing against her.

“Hmm,” Charlotte mused. “He’s probably a control freak. Like he won’t let himself come in your presence because it diminishes his power.”

“Really? Do you have patients who are into this kind of thing? Like doms?”

She didn’t confirm. “Are you seeing him again?”

“If the boys misbehave.”

Charlotte snorted. “Oh, like that’ll never happen.” Then she smiled, batted her eyelashes. “He could be the man for you.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “It’s just sex.”

“Which is very, very good,” Charlotte agreed. “But you need more. You need a man in your life.”

Lola shook her head emphatically. “I don’t need a relationship. Men are too much work.”

“
Mike
was too much work. You haven’t had a real relationship since he burned you.”

Her ex-husband was one of those men who wanted perfection and was woefully disappointed when he discovered Lola wasn’t perfect. Unfortunately, being an idiotic, starry-eyed twenty-three-year-old, Lola didn’t understand that until
after
they were married and Mike decided she needed a few more
adjustments
. He tried to instruct her on the proper way to behave, the proper way to dress, to wear her hair, her makeup, even her proper weight, how to cook, to treat his friends, to . . . well, how to do
everything
. And nothing she did was good enough. So, after five years, he found perfection in another woman. Lola had pitied her.

But she’d learned she wasn’t relationship material, and ten years later, she was happy on her own. “I like being in control of my own life.”

“I’m in control of my life, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want a man around. I just haven’t found the right one yet.” Charlotte had fallen hard five times. She’d practically been on the church doorstep, but she’d never taken that final step. There’d always been something that came between her and her man. Maybe it was being a therapist; she analyzed everything too much.

Lola didn’t say that, though. She’d said it too many times in the past.

“He could sense exactly what you need,” Charlotte went on. “A take-charge man who sweeps you off your feet and orders you to be his woman.” A fire lit the depths of her green eyes.

“It’s just sex.” Lola flapped a hand. “He likes to spank women. The twins are a convenient excuse for him to play his kinky games. Don’t get carried away with this whole relationship thing. I don’t need any entanglements.” But what the coach had given her, well, yeah, she could have that again. More than once. A
lot
. She’d felt not only physically satisfied—huge understatement—but special as well with every sweet word he’d said.

“You just don’t like
entanglements
because in a relationship something is required of you, and you’re not sure you can give it. So you reject every man before he can reject you.”

“I do not reject them,” Lola defended. “I choose men who aren’t interested in a relationship either.”

“What about Ben?”

“He got too serious.” Ben was the last man she’d dated, euphemism for the last man she’d had casual sex with over the period of a few months.

“He wanted a relationship. He asked you to live with him.”

“Which meant I would have had to sell the condo or he would have to sell his house. It was too complicated.”

“He was a nice guy.”

“They’re nice when they don’t live in your house and can’t tell you what to do.”

Charlotte shook her finger. “See? You rejected him before he could start treating you the way Mike did.”

“That’s not true.” All right, maybe a little. She just wasn’t interested in giving a man sway over her life. She didn’t want to feel like she needed to become someone else, someone better. “I like my life the way it is.” And then she tried a little redirect, because honestly, she didn’t want to argue the same old argument with Charlotte. “And I can’t wait for the twins to misbehave so I can get my next punishment.”

The distraction worked, thank goodness. “Ooh,” Charlotte enthused. “You did like giving up a little control for a while.”

“If it’s sexual, then yes.” Because it only lasted for a few hours. And boy, had those few hours been totally worth it.

5

SATURDAY MORNING, AS HE SHOUTED OUT COMMANDS, GRAY
reflected that running a multimillion-dollar conglomerate was easier than coaching sixteen boys five days a week. Especially with his son and Lola Cook’s nephews as three of the sixteen.

Rafe was sullen, but then he usually was around Gray. As the adult, Gray should know what to do to repair their relationship, but he was clueless. Everything he tried just seemed to push them further apart. It was far easier to order a subordinate to fix a problem than it was to divine the workings of a teenage mind when he hadn’t been one in twenty-five years.

Harry and William were a different story. They delighted in flouting authority. He’d forbidden cell phones, so they’d brought small gaming devices that he’d never even seen before. They distracted the other boys until Gray had to take those away, too.

That conversation had gone the way every conversation did with those two.

“You can’t take that,” Harry said militantly. “It’s a prototype from my dad’s company.”

“Yeah.” William added a glare.

“You will get them back at the end of the day,” Gray answered.

It had been his inclination to tell them to grab their toys and take a hike, but he’d made a bargain with Lola. And they’d certainly given him more than enough ammunition for getting her back into the naughty corner.