His Good Girl (5 page)

It took a moment for his question to register, and I didn't look at him as I answered. "I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"Okay, go ahead and enlighten me on exactly what your friend said."

"Um…" Suddenly, it occurred to me that it probably hadn't been such a good idea to mention Julie at all. "Ah, well, she just said, with it being the third date and all…"

"That it was time to hop into the sack?"

The wryness in his voice made me risk a glance at him, but he still wasn't looking at me. The ironic smile at the curve of his lips made me swallow hard. This wasn't going the way I'd expected at all.

"Is that it, Cara?" he went on.

"Well… not exactly."

"Cara?" he prompted, his voice growing stern.

"Yes—sir," I added, for some reason feeling like it was the right thing to do.

"I see. And what did I ever do to make you think I'm that kind of guy?"

"I, um…"

"I like you a lot, Cara, but right now I'm struggling to think of what I could have said or done to make you think I have so little respect for you."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I simply squirmed in the seat, looking out the window and hoping we'd get to my house soon so I could lock myself in my bedroom and have a good cry.

Kevin seemed content to leave me to my thoughts, and neither of us spoke again until we reached my apartment. I was morose by the time we got there, and having a hard time swallowing the lump in my throat. It looked like I'd ruined everything by my inability to keep my mouth shut. I couldn't help but wonder how differently things would have worked out if I'd just put my hand on his thigh and whispered, "My place," in his ear without mentioning my coworker. Chances were that we'd be rushing into the house right now, unable to keep our hands off each other.

That image just made his current reaction harder to take, so I pushed it away. Kevin got out of the car and walked around to my side to let me out. I tried to smile at him, but it fell flat.

"Well, thanks for tonight. I-I had a good time," I stammered.

"I'll walk you in."

I was surprised by the offer, but didn't want to say anything to spoil it, so I simply nodded. My hands were shaking as I unlocked the door and I silently cursed myself and hoped that he hadn't noticed. I didn't imagine he'd stay long, and then I could drown my sorrows with a chick flick and a tub of ice cream, just like every other girl who'd gotten dumped because she'd put her foot in her mouth. It really sucked, too, because I was sure he was the perfect guy. Or, at least, perfect for me. Now I'd ruined it, and there wasn't much I could do about it but feel sorry for myself, which I intended to start doing the moment he left.

"Can we talk?" he said.

"Oh, um… sure." I answered without much enthusiasm. I gestured toward the couch and we both began to move toward it. I let him sit first so I could choose the other end, sitting as far away from him as possible. I'd thought I was safe, but Kevin simply moved, closing the distance between us. I didn't know how much longer I could take being this close to him—able to feel the heat of his body and smell the spicy, seductive scent of his cologne—without crying.

"I just want you to tell me what I've done wrong," he said gently.

"You haven't done anything wrong," I protested, my heart wrenching in my chest.

"That's clearly not true. I've tried to show you that I intend to be a gentleman; that I care about you and respect you, but obviously you need something else from me, so just tell me what it is."

"Kevin," I groaned, his name a plea on my lips. "Please, can't we just forget this whole thing? I thought you might want to… I mean, I want… I'd like…" I took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "Please, just forget I said anything. It was stupid."

He looked at me with those chocolate brown eyes of his and for a moment I felt as though he could see down into the very depths of my soul. "I wouldn't be able to forget it if I tried," he said. "I think you are probably the most beautiful person I've ever met, inside and out. Now why don't you see yourself that way?"

I could only offer a limp shrug.

"No, I mean it. You're so sweet and kind and fun to be around. I know I'm not the only person to ever tell you this."

"The only one in a long time," I answered softly, my eyes downcast.

He paused only for an instant. "Okay, well let me tell you what else I see: you also seem to have this vulnerable side to you that doesn't seem altogether healthy. I only wish I knew what to do to help you with it."

My eyes leapt to his face as he got up from the couch. "You're leaving?"

"I've said what I came to say, yes. Now, I'm going to let myself out and give you some time to think."

"But I don't want you to leave!" The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to assess how desperate and needy they sounded.

"I really need to get going, Cara," he said.

"I don't understand. Why?" I sounded more pitiful every time I opened my mouth, but I could forgive myself that if only he would stay.

"Because if I stay I'm not going to be able to keep myself from spanking you."

My mouth literally dropped open. A million things whirled in my head, one right after the other, none of them worth saying.

"Is every mirror in your house broken?" he asked in exasperation, not seeming to notice the effect his statement had had on me. "Come on. Let's go find out."

When he offered me his hand, I should have shaken my head. I should have protested, or said nothing at all. After all, he'd just threatened to spank me, so it wasn't like I could be surprised by what happened next.

Still, I hardly paused for a beat before putting my hand in his. With a gentle tug, he had me on my feet. "Where's the bathroom?" he asked.

"We don't really have to—"

"We do," he insisted, giving my hand a little squeeze.

With a laugh that was partly nervous and partly thinking how ridiculous this was, I pointed him down the hallway. He tugged on my hand as we walked the short distance to my bathroom. Then he turned on the light and pulled me inside, still holding on to my hand.

"Perfect," he pronounced, and I knew he must have spotted the full-length mirror propped up beside the bath tub. "It looks like it works to me, but let's be sure."

Then, to my surprise, he shut the door behind us and positioned me so I could see my reflection perfectly. I stared up at the ceiling, feeling my face heat with embarrassment.
Does he really think I'm just going to stand here and stare at myself
? I found that I was immediately distracted from my embarrassment—albeit temporarily—when I felt him begin to pull my jeans down. "What are you—" The words died on my lips when I realized he'd told me already. But the thought that he was actually going to
do
it… my stomach was in knots. How was it possible that it seemed so embarrassing and so erotic all at once? Yet I couldn't deny that it was; I could feel my panties dampening with each gentle tug that worked my jeans further down my hips, and in a matter of moments he would be able to see it, too.

Why should I be embarrassed about it, though? I'd been prepared to have him see everything there was to see mere minutes ago—albeit for a far more alluring reason. Once the jeans were down past my hips, he hooked his thumbs into my panties and slowly began to peel them down as well. I'd never felt so much patience and tenderness in a man's touch before, and even though I closed my eyes as I leaned against him, I was sure the mirror would reveal that my expression was one of pure ecstasy.

"Now, now," he tsked in my ear. "The whole point of this was to keep your eyes open."

As soon as my lids lazily fluttered open, I felt his hard palm connect with my naked backside, making me gasp and jump. "Kevin! That hurts!"

"That's the idea, honey," he told me, brushing a lock of my blonde hair away from my face and tucking it behind my ear. "It's supposed to hurt… to teach you a lesson."

"What kind of lesson?" I demanded, a bit petulantly.

"That you're beautiful and intelligent and sweet, and need to stop selling yourself so short." His husky whisper in my ear was a sharp contrast to the stinging ache his hand imparted when it slapped my bottom a second and then a third time.

"And
this
is supposed to show me that?"

"Well, if nothing else, it shows you how I feel about your being so hard on yourself." His hand came crashing down again and again, as if to illustrate his words.

My eyes widened with each and every smack. I bit my lip to keep from crying out until my flesh turned tender beneath my teeth. It was one thing to see myself—the way I hopped just a little every time his hand spanked my tender orbs, the way my cheeks flushed from the effort of not making a sound—but it would be quite another to hear it.

However, as the barrage of spanks continued, his hand impacting my flesh time after time, it became impossible to stay silent. Finally, all I could do was give into the quivers and the moans of pain. I'd hoped that, once I was crying, he would stop—but if anything the intensity seemed to go up a notch. Watching Kevin in the mirror as he pulled his hand back to land a hard spank on my bottom was terrifying. I could see it coming, and yet I felt powerless to stop it. Not because he was a jerk who wouldn't stop if I asked him to—in fact I was perfectly confident that he would—but because this spanking held some sort of fascination for me, I couldn't bring myself to tell him to stop.

It was strange: my poor blistered butt ached from the unfamiliar attention, and yet the flush in my cheeks and the vibrancy in my eyes weren't purely from the tears rolling down my face, either. I could feel the heat pulsing between my legs, the throbbing in my pussy that told me it had gone too long, far too long, without attention. I wanted Kevin to be the one to fulfill that need more than I'd ever wanted anything.

His hand came down again, and though I was aware that these smacks weren't as hard as the ones he'd given me in the beginning, they hurt more. I winced, I cried out, I turned my tear-filled eyes on him, and yet the spanking continued. I twisted myself in knots of longing and lust until I could hardly stand it, and the smacks continued to rain down on me until the throbbing in my ass outweighed the one in my sex. By the time he stopped, I was wailing like a little girl, and when he took me in his arms, half-carrying me to the toilet so he could sit down and take me into his lap, I sniffled into his shirt, grateful for the reprieve.

"Shh, shh," he soothed, patting my back with one hand as the arm he'd looped around my waist tightened. "You're okay. Shh, sweetheart. Don't cry."

"I thought the wh-whole point was… t-to make m-me cry," I accused between sniffles.

"Just a little," he murmured, brushing his lips over my cheek. "And it's over now. You took your spanking like such a good girl."

I preened at the praise, feeling some of the knots in my belly tighten while other parts of my body loosened simultaneously. It wasn't how I'd thought the evening would start, but maybe it was just the beginning. Maybe there was still hope…

"Stand up."

I did as he bid, and Kevin stood up right behind me and offered a hand. When I accepted it, to my surprise, he helped me to step out of the puddle of my clothing. Then he gently guided me forward a few steps until I stood directly in front of the mirror once more.

"Now, let me tell you what I see," he said. "I see a beautiful, sweet woman, and I'm going to do everything I can to help you see yourself the same way."

"I—"

"Shh," he chided with a whisper in my ear. "Don't talk." When his hand brushed against my pussy, I nearly jumped out of my skin with surprise and excitement. "Just listen. Every morning, when you come here to get dressed, I want you to look in the mirror and tell yourself that you're beautiful, smart, and very loved. Do you think you can do that, Cara?"

I could hardly breathe from the gentle yet electrifying touch of his hand across my pussy lips. "I don't know… it seems sort of silly."

His finger flicked my clit, making me groan. "If you can't do it for yourself, can you do it for me?"

"Yes, Kevin," I rasped, somewhere between a whisper and a groan.

"Good girl. That's what I wanted to hear." As a reward, his finger plunged into the pool of my wetness, making me gasp and lunge up on my tiptoes. He pulled me tight against him and began to work his finger in and out, much to my utter delight. "Now, I want to hear you say it."

"Say what?" I moaned.

"Repeat after me: say, I'm beautiful…"

"Oh, Kevin, can't you just—" I stopped abruptly as he pulled his finger out and slapped my ass. It was only once, but it was hard. "Ow!"

"I thought you'd learned your lesson?" he asked, his eyes stern.

"This is ridiculous." I pouted. "You can't just hit me every time I say something you don't like."

"First of all, I didn't
hit
you, Cara. I spanked you. Secondly, this is for your own good. Now, be a sweetheart and repeat after me, and you'll get your reward."

With my brow furrowed, I frowned at him, but the promise of the longed for reward was enough to make me swallow my ire and obey. "I'm beautiful."