The Naughty Corner (7 page)

So he’d locked the devices in his office and made them run two laps. But throughout the morning, he could hear the whispers.

“Your
dad
made that?”

“Yeah. He’s real smart.”

“Can I get one?”

Even Rafe, who generally disdained games like Angry Birds, whispered with the other boys until Gray broke them into groups and had them perform some passing drills. None of them liked learning rules or doing agility exercises, but give them a ball, and suddenly their interest was piqued.

“Good job, Stu,” he called encouragement. He couldn’t run the ball well or kick, but Stu had an arm. And he could certainly block.

And his son was a damn decent kicker. “Great job, Rafe,” he called. The praise earned him nothing more than a bored glance.

Harry and William weren’t proficient at anything—except talking—but he began to wonder if that, too, was an act.

He’d loved coaching the football camp the last three years, but at the end of the day, he had to admit this first week had ground him down. Sending the boys off to the showers, he turned to see Lola at the gate.

The sight of her crossing the field wearing ass-hugging black shorts revived him. Her legs seemed endless. The sleeveless top, on the other hand, wasn’t tight but tied at the back and flared over her hips. She appeared dainty and feminine. When she drew close, he noted the necklace dangling provocatively between her breasts. It had the effect of making him want to lick her right in that exact spot.

“In my office,” he instructed as sternly as he would issue an order to one of the boys.

“Yes, Coach,” she said with a cheeky lilt to her voice.

He didn’t close the door behind her. Though the blinds inside were drawn, he had no doubt that one of her nephews, or anyone else for that matter, could put an eye to the end of the slats and see
something
. He wasn’t about to compromise her that way.

Unlocking the desk drawer, he pulled out the gaming devices and handed them to her. “Another infraction,” he said darkly.

Her lips moved slightly, as if she’d only just managed to stop a smile in its tracks. “Does it deserve punishment?”

“Most definitely.” And he wanted it bad. “Quite frankly, I don’t care if their father made these things or not, I don’t want to see these devices back here. Understand?” A little overbearing authority seemed necessary.

She looked down at the devices in her hands. “Their father? What do you mean? He didn’t make these.”

“They claimed they were prototypes he’d produced.” Obviously they’d made that up.

“Andrea sent these things from a store in Germany. The latest thing. Personally, one gaming toy is the same as another, but whatever.”

“So they lied.”

“Yes, they did.” She nodded. “Definitely sounds like a punishment is in order.”

“I agree completely. Tomorrow afternoon. Two o’clock.” It wasn’t his weekend with Rafe, and he had to take him back to his ex-wife’s as soon as he got out of the showers. Bettina was talking about getting Rafe a car. Of course, they’d disagreed about it since Gray was the one who would pay for it, but Bettina was insistent. After all,
she
was the one who had to drive Rafe everywhere or let him use her car.

“Yes, sir,” Lola said, her eyes sparkling.

He wondered why the hell he was letting Bettina occupy his thoughts for even a second when Lola was right in front of him. Despite the open door and the scent of earth and grass, he could smell
her
. Sweet, seductive woman.

He had the evening to determine the perfect punishment. And he would make it good.

* * *

“YOU CAN’T JUST TAKE THEM,” HARRY WHINED. “THAT’S OUR
personal property.”

“Yeah,” William chimed in. “You can’t take our stuff.”

Lola wondered if William was capable of original thought. Though he was older by those five minutes, he always seemed to parrot whatever Harry said. She locked the Game Boys—or whatever the German versions were called—in her bottom desk drawer. Why the hell had Andrea sent them? Did she
want
to cause trouble?

“If you can’t follow the rules, then you don’t get to play with them.” Sure she’d been hoping—praying—the boys would misbehave so she could see Gray again, but there still had to be consequences for their bad behavior.

“They’re not toys,” Harry huffed, affronted.

When she straightened away from the desk, she was taller than him. She glared down. “You can go one night without them in punishment for using them improperly. There’s a time and place, and football camp isn’t it. That was rude to the coach and the other boys who are trying to learn.” She narrowed her eyes on them. “And to top it off,” she added, “you lied.”

“About what?” William groused, even though she’d been looking at Harry.

She pointed at the desk drawer. “Those things aren’t prototypes. Your father’s company manufactures cardboard cereal boxes.” And other packaging materials. But that probably wasn’t glamorous enough for the twins.

“You just don’t get it, Aunt Lola,” Harry said, obviously unrepentant if that twinkle in his brown eyes said anything. “People want illusion. They want to think something is bigger and better, and no one else has it. They want something new and exciting. All we did was make them feel special by giving them exactly what they wanted.”

Lola stared at Harry a long moment. “How old are you?” she asked. Because honestly, the kid was kind of profound. He could read people, understand their needs. Most adults weren’t even able to do that. The problem was he sounded like a con artist.

He wasn’t exactly a handsome boy. His face was too round. Maybe that would change as he got older. By the time he was eighteen, girls might be falling at his feet. But there was something in his eyes, something that set him apart even from his identical twin.

“You know exactly how old we are, Aunt Lola,” he answered haughtily.

Yes, she did. And despite the fact that she was two-and-a-half times their age, she wondered if they actually had the upper hand.

“I have work to do,” she said. She was still waiting for that phone call from Frank. With her luck, they’d call just before two o’clock tomorrow. “Why don’t you two go over to the pool?”

Harry smirked. “Are you sure we’re old enough to swim on our own? There’s no lifeguard, you know.”

She didn’t rise to his baiting tone. “Just make sure you wear your sunscreen.” God, now she was sounding like Andrea.

When they were gone—after much noise and fuss—Ghost came out from behind the desk where she’d been hiding and climbed onto Lola’s lap.

“Do those big, bad teenage boys scare you?” she asked, scratching the cat’s chin. Ghost began to purr.

Lola rolled her chair up to the desk—the cat curling into a tiny ball of fur—tapped a few times on the mouse, and brought up the diagram she’d been working on. She had two monitors so she could compare documents and drawings, referencing without having to toggle back and forth between windows. She’d purchased state-of-the-art software and spent hours viewing online seminars to learn the latest tips and tricks.

Yet instead of digging in, she sat for long minutes contemplating Harry and William. And Gray. He was something new and exciting. He said all the right things. He made her feel special. Was she simply letting him con her into submission the way Harry conned his friends?

* * *

IN THE END, LOLA DECIDED IT DIDN’T MATTER WHETHER GRAY
was conning her. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, and she’d loved the things he’d done to her. She wanted more. Simple.

By Sunday afternoon, Frank still hadn’t called, and neither he nor George had answered the messages she’d left. She was dubious they would get to the testing until Monday despite the edicts from
the powers that be
. She didn’t have to worry about Harry and William either. They were going to the movies with a friend, then burgers afterward. The boy was older, and his mom was letting him borrow the car for the afternoon. Perfect. Andrea would probably freak, but she wouldn’t know. It was daylight, for heaven’s sake. She had to give the boys some leeway. Or maybe it was just a good excuse to get rid of them.

Lola wore a flirty little skirt and a short-sleeved sweater that buttoned down the front.

Gray didn’t compliment her with words, but when he opened the door, his gaze was all she needed. His smoky eyes drifted all over, from the ponytail she’d tied high on her head to the thin, tight sweater, the skirt that could be flipped up over her butt oh so easily, and her bare legs. She felt like an ice cream cone licked from bottom to top.

“Go into the bathroom and take off that bra.” He pointed down the hall.

Her nipples immediately peaked against the offending bra. His blue shirt was open far enough to reveal a dusting of hair, the jeans seemed to cup and enhance his private parts, and his chin was covered with a sexy five o’clock shadow.

Following his direction, she passed a home office with built-in cabinets, shelves, and desk. A large leather chair sat before an open laptop, a screen saver of geometric shapes flitting across the monitor.

The main bathroom was opposite double doors leading to the master bedroom. Before turning in, she caught sight of a large bed, burgundy comforter, and sturdy wooden headboard with bedposts of mahogany.

The main bathroom also had a door into a smaller bedroom. Pennants, pictures, and posters on the walls told her this was his son’s room. Obviously the boy was at his father’s house enough to require his own room.

She closed that door for no other reason than feeling uncomfortable stripping off her bra while looking at his son’s bed. It gave her an odd sensation of guilt, as if she were trespassing.

“Are you done yet?” his voice boomed.

Lola smiled, shoved her bra in her bag, and just before opening the door, slipped off her panties, too. Let’s see what he did with that.

He stood at the end of the hall in the entryway, his face a stern mask. Obviously he’d decided to play the hard-ass this time. At the last moment, he stepped aside and pointed into the living room. “Give me your purse and go to your naughty corner.”

A thrill swept through her. People wanted illusion. They wanted something bigger and better, something new and exciting, something that made them feel special.

Gray made her feel all those things. And he made her wet.

She handed him her bag without the least compunction. He laid it next to his keys on a table to one side of the door. If her phone rang, she should be able to hear it even from inside her purse.

“I said,” he snapped, his face tense, eyes narrowed, “go to your corner.”

The chair faced the corner like before, but this time he’d set a long, standing mirror in front of it. This was new. She glanced back at him.

“I like to watch,” he said. “You’re going to give me a show.”

She was completely breathless, but she opened her mouth to speak.

He put his fingers to her lips. “Not a word. Just do what I say.”

Then she saw the table beside the chair and her heart started to race.

* * *

HER EYES WIDENED. HIS PULSE KICKED UP IN RESPONSE. HE’D SET
out a smorgasbord of toys: a ball gag, blindfold, scarves for tying, a vibrator, a butt plug. Some of them would terrify her. Some would excite her. He’d already decided which implement he would use. And exactly what he was going to do with it.

Instead of making her sit, he took the chair. “Get on my lap, your back to my chest.”

She glanced at the mirror warily.

“Now,” he reiterated, adding force to his voice.

She straddled him, sitting straight and stiff. Her ponytail swished across his face. “Take your hair down,” he ordered. “You are always to wear your hair down around me.” Though the nape of her neck called to him, he resisted as her silky hair tumbled down over her shoulders. He had a plan for her. And it wasn’t
his
capitulation. True, after their last punishment session, he’d told himself he’d have his cock in her mouth the next time, but he’d changed his mind. He wanted to hold out a bit longer, to savor the build of his sexual tension.

She’d asked why he liked to punish and spank, why he was kinky. He didn’t know why. Or perhaps it was more truthful to say he’d had a couple of experiences that might have led him here, but he couldn’t be totally sure. He rather thought he had a predilection for it. Like a prodigy simply knows how to play a piano or a novelist begins making up his stories almost from the moment he learns the alphabet.

All he knew was that when he had her in his power, when she did whatever he told her to, his cock began to throb and some inner need took over.

It was taking over now. “Spread your legs and lift your skirt for the mirror.”

She hesitated. “There isn’t some hidden camera behind there or anything, right?”

“If I’m going to film you, I will tell you. Nothing is secret between us.” He laid his hands along her thighs in an attempt to soothe her.

While it might appear that he held the power, all she had to do was say no. All she had to do was walk away. He could never force her. He could only demand, but in the end, she was the one who had to agree. She had to
want
this.

His tension released when she leaned back against him, parting her legs, resting her thighs along his. He held her at the waist. Then slowly, so very slowly, she began to tug on the skirt.

Over her shoulder, he stared full into the mirror. She’d braced the toes of her sandals on the floor, his jeans-clad knees between hers. He widened his legs slightly, forcing hers farther apart. She was all dark and light in the mirror, creamy white skin, black hair, black skirt, white sweater. The effect was mesmerizing as she raised her skirt for him. A little more, then more.

His heart ceased to beat altogether. She was trimmed to barely more than fuzz, the lips of her sex pink, plump, inviting.

“Holy hell,” he said softly. “That’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He felt her laugh—or maybe it was a snort—vibrating against his chest. “You’re utterly perfect,” he whispered. “Touch yourself.”