His Good Girl (9 page)

"Really?" he asked, in a conversational manner that caught me off guard.

"Well, yeah."

"You should have told me that from the start." He spoke so quietly that at first, I wasn't sure he'd really spoken at all. At least, not until he looked my way, indicating that he was waiting for a response.

"I did try—"

"No," he interrupted, his voice still low. "You told me you didn't want to go, that's true, but whenever I asked you for a specific reason, you danced around the question or changed the subject or just pouted."

"I didn't
pout
," I muttered.

"Really?" He gave me a sidelong glance and smiled for the first time since we'd gotten back into the car. "I think you're sort of pouting now."

"Okay, okay," I grumbled, smiling despite myself. "You've got me there."

Silence fell over the car once more, and for a moment I almost thought things were okay between us again. Just before I relaxed completely, Kevin spoke up. "You said she knew I was coming."

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat, looking at my hands, which were clasped tightly in my lap. "I didn't say that, actually."

"Excuse me?" His voice hiked up for the first time during the conversation, and I ducked my head lower.

"I didn't. Not exactly."

"Not exactly," he repeated slowly, his tone making his disapproval clear. "So, what did you say,
exactly
?"

"Um… I said we could go the following Saturday."

"I see. And you said that knowing I would assume you'd spoken to your mother."

The accusation in his voice made me squirm, but I couldn't find anything to say that would make it better.

"So, tell me," he went on, "how isn't that a lie?"

My head jerked up in surprise at his question. "I would never lie to you, Kevin. I mean, not about anything that mattered."

He arched a dark brow. "I see. And who gets to decide what matters?"

"Please, I didn't mean for things to go like this." I ran a hand through my hair, wondering what I could say to make this right.

"I do believe you, Cara." His tone gentled as he reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. "I knew that our going to see your mother was hard for you, and now that I've met her, I understand even more. However, that doesn't make up for the fact that you lied to me."

"No, Kevin, I—"

"You lied," he repeated, his voice growing firmer. "Even if you didn't intend to; by letting me think you'd spoken to your mother, you lied by omission. I'm also not very happy that you knew how she would react and yet you didn't give me any kind of advance warning. I still would have wanted to meet her, but at least I wouldn't have been blindsided."

I winced. He had every right to be angry at me. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I know you are, sweetheart." He gave my hand a squeeze. "Now, what are we going to do about this?"

"I don't know," I admitted, hanging my head and feeling ashamed of myself. I'd known it was stupid not to be more open with him, but I also hadn't known how to bring it up. What was I supposed to say? "Thanks for dinner, honey, by the way, my mom's a psycho?" I hadn't wanted to scare him off—we weren't married
yet
, after all.

"I was thinking that this is the kind of situation where a spanking might be in order."

His words made me freeze. My first instinct was to pull back my hand, but he tightened his grip, trapping my fingers. "I don't know…" I began.

"You don't know, or you don't want a spanking?" he prompted, without looking my way.

I knew for certain that I didn't want a spanking. Yet, at the same time, I knew that I'd been wrong to mislead him. I knew that I had to make things right between us… But wasn't there another way? "I really am sorry, and I promise it won't happen again."

"I appreciate that, honey. I really do, but I'm afraid I can't let the lie slide." With that, he began to slow down and pulled over to the side of the road, putting the car into park and turning off the engine. When he turned to me, I felt the first tears prick my eyes.

"Look, Kevin, I said I'm sorry. I don't know what else I can do."

"You can take your spanking like a good girl."

He said it as though it was so simple, however it was anything but. My tummy was doing back-handsprings, and the thought of being spanked—especially here, on the side of the road—made me feel as though I was ready to vomit. "I'm sorry, I don't know if I can," I muttered.

"Don't worry," he said with a wry smile. "I have faith in you. I think you'll do just fine." When he reached for me, I didn't pull away, despite the fact that I wanted to so badly. He let his seat back, and the next thing I knew, I was lying face-down over his lap. It felt strange for more than one reason. For one thing, my pulse was racing so fast I thought I might faint, and for another, I was worried that someone might pull over to see if we needed help, at which point they'd get an eyeful of my spanked bottom.

"Please, don't," I whimpered, when Kevin flipped up my skirt and went to lower my panties.

"I'm sorry, but you've earned this spanking."

"I know, but what if someone looks in through the window?"

He hesitated for an instant, and I clenched my buttocks, certain that any moment they would be bared. To my immense relief, he let go of the band of my panties and began rubbing his hand over the fabric of my underwear. The relief didn't last long, however, because all too soon the only thing I could think about was the hard flat of his hand as it punished my panty-clad behind.

"Kevin!" I squealed, kicking my legs out. "Please, stop! That hurts!"

"I know, honey," he said, his voice soothing and in sharp contrast to the swats he continued to rain down on my poor, defenseless cheeks.

"Please! I'm sorry!" I begged as my ass began to heat up. "I won't do it again!"

"No, you most certainly will not," he agreed as he continued to spank.

I moaned in pain and writhed, but unfortunately there was nowhere to escape to even if I had been able to free myself from his tight grip. I huffed and sighed, kicked my feet and whimpered, but no matter what I did he didn't pause, much less relent in the steady barrage of spanks he was delivering to my quivering, tender flesh. Each one seemed to hurt more than the previous one, until my whimpers turned to pitiful cries. As my flesh continued to heat up, tears began to fill my eyes. To begin with, I was able to blink them back, but that didn't last long, and soon I was crying out loud, with them streaming down my cheeks.

How much longer could this go on
? I wondered as I sobbed. My bottom felt like it was on fire—surely his hand couldn't be feeling much better. But as much as I wanted to know, I was too busy crying to ask the question.

By the time he stopped, all I could concentrate on was my blazing rear. I lay over his lap, sobbing for several minutes before I even realized that he'd finished. When I sat up, I noticed that I'd left a puddle of tears which had soaked through the leg of his jeans.

"Your pants," I said, with a hiccup.

"Oh, don't worry about that," he replied, pulling me to him and giving me a kiss on the temple as he rubbed my back. "Let's get you home, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, sniffling. I scooted back over to my seat and buckled my seatbelt, the tears drying on my face as the burn in my buns began to subside. Though the intense sting did lessen, there was no denying that I had a
very
red rear under my skirt and for the first time, I rued the fact that Kevin's car had leather seats which seemed to trap in the heat.

We drove back to my apartment in relative silence. I was embarrassed by what had just happened, and didn't know what to say to get to feeling as though things were back to 'normal'. Kevin seemed content to sit in silence, so I stopped trying to think of something to say. Once he'd parked, I waited in the car for him to walk around—something that still took me by surprise—to open my door. I managed a small smile and a soft, "Thank you," but fell quiet once more as we walked to my apartment.

I almost didn't expect him to stay, so I was surprised when he followed me inside and took a seat on the couch. He patted the seat beside him and I eagerly scampered to his side. Curling up next to him, I buried my face in his shirt, inhaling his clean, warm skin, still feeling too shy to look at him.

"I'm sorry things didn't go well back there," he said.

Hearing his gentle tone helped me to relax. "It's okay. My Mom can be… a handful."

"Like mother, like daughter."

Despite his teasing tone, I pulled back in surprise, my mouth agape. "Kevin, I'm nothing like her!"

"She's your mother," he said, as though I needed reminding. "It's inevitable that you have some things in common, whether you like it or not. Maybe that was why you didn't want me to meet her?"

"I-I didn't want you to meet her because she's awful! Because I-I'm ashamed of her!" I spluttered, shocked that he would dare compare us, however lightly.

"Cara, you don't have anything to be ashamed of. No one can control who their parents are. But, honey, if you were this worried about my meeting her, you
should
have sat me down and we should have talked."

"Yes, you made that point very clear."

He arched an eyebrow at my snappish reply. "Apparently not clear enough."

I felt heat creep into my cheeks and glanced away, but I was too stubborn to apologize.

"Go and stand in the corner, please," he said.

"What?" My eyes widened in surprise.
He can't be serious
!

"It seems you haven't learned your lesson yet, so go stand in the corner."

"You can't punish me every time I dare to share my opinion!"

"Is that what I'm doing?"

I huffed, annoyed with myself for how childishly I was acting, and annoyed with him for having a point. "No, but—"

"The corner, Cara."

His voice didn't rise even by a decibel, but I could tell by the determined look in his eyes that he wasn't going to back down. With a final glare, I got off the couch and flounced over to the nearest corner, facing the wall with my arms crossed angrily. I couldn't believe he was being so
unfair
! I'd thought he was the sweetest, kindest man I'd ever met, but the truth was, he was showing himself to be quite the bully. Maybe my mother had been right, maybe we just hadn't known each other long enough.

I gulped guiltily as soon as the thought crossed my mind, my engagement ring chafing on my finger. No,
this
was the reason I hadn't wanted him to meet her! My mother had the uncanny ability to plant seeds of doubt, and she didn't even have to be around to make them grow. Suddenly, I was angry all over again, but the truth was, I was angry at her, and angrier at myself. I always let her get to me. Nothing she'd said had seemed to upset Kevin in the slightest—I'd been so afraid that she would say something to make him change his mind about me, but the truth was, I had been equally afraid about the things she'd say to me about him. Out of the two of us, he was the stronger one, it seemed.

Tears of anger and frustration came to my eyes, but by the time they fell, they had become tears of remorse. As though he could sense the change in my mood, I felt Kevin behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. He turned me to face him and opened his arms, which I rushed into.

"Shh. It's okay, honey. Everything's going to be all right."

"What if it's not?" I sobbed.

"It will be. Don't worry, sweetheart."

"I… how can you still… want me? After what she said?" I'd hardly gotten the words out before his mouth seized mine, taking my questions right out of the air and dispelling them with an act of love. I gave myself over to his embrace, returning his kiss with a need that surprised me. Kevin held on to me tightly, meeting my insecurity with a strength that left me feeling cherished and protected. When we broke apart, I was smiling shyly, even as tears still trickled down my cheeks.

"There," he said, wiping them away with the back of his hand. "Does that answer your question?"

"For now. I might need to hear it again, from time to time." I batted my eyes coyly, and he threw back his head and laughed.

"Come here." He took my hand and led me back to the couch, pulling me into his lap as he sat down. "Are you ready to talk now?"

"Yes, sir." I didn't really want to talk about it, truth be told, but my heart was feeling so light right now that I didn't think anything could bring me down—not even thinking about my mother.

"Why didn't you tell me your mother treats you like that? I still would have insisted on meeting her, but at least then I would have been prepared," he said.

"I was embarrassed," I said, shrugging a shoulder. "Wouldn't you be? Besides, I'm sure you have this wonderful, perfect family, and I just thought… I felt like if you met mine, you wouldn't want to marry me anymore." There, I'd said it; the one thing I was most afraid of, spoken aloud and hanging between us for several heart-stopping, breathless moments.