His Sassy Girl (Desiring the Forbidden Book 2) (3 page)

“You’ll learn to curb that reaction. It’s time to get up, or you’ll be late.”

“God, I’m so exhausted, Daddy. I didn’t go to bed until two o’clock finishing my paper.” She threw her arm over her eyes, looking as if she might drift off again.

He grasped her elbow, tugging at her to get up. “I know what time you came to bed. Keep in mind that if you had planned better, this paper would have been done earlier in the week. Do you think it turned out well?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “I never know. I finished it, and I think it’ll be okay.”

Dylan stared at her quietly for a moment, letting some uneasiness rise in her. “Well, doesn’t that sound questionable? We made an agreement with the Professor about this course. I’ll be notified at the same time as you with your grade on this paper. If it’s not at least a B, your little ass will be a lovely shade of red. Bank on it, Sassy.”

“But, Daddy! He grades hard. Getting a B in his class is like an A in others. Can we drop it to a C?” She sat up, putting on her best pleading face.

Dylan shook his head, although part of him wanted to relent. He knew that Professor Parks was a difficult English Lit teacher, but it just meant that she had to work harder, not look for sympathy. “Sorry, Brittney Leigh, but we agreed.” He pulled her to stand. “Off to the shower. I’ll fix your breakfast.”

* * *

B
rittney sat in the lounge at the college, her laptop open, her cursing only barely suppressed as she frantically added and deleted passages from her paper. She had hoped Daddy would relent and take into account how difficult Professor Parks was with his grading. Although she didn’t want to admit Dylan was right — ever —if she
had
finished the paper a couple of days earlier, she knew she’d probably feel a lot better at that moment.

After receiving her last D in class from Professor Parks, she’d received a harsh hand spanking from Dylan, and she’d
agreed
to bring a note asking the Professor to copy Dylan on all emails. It had been an incentive for quite a while, the result being that her grades were higher than normal. However, she suspected it would bottom out on this paper, and as was normal for her, she had procrastinated for so long that she found herself rushing to finish on the day it was due.

The clock on her desktop flashed. It was time to get to class. She typed in the professor’s name to her online document to share it with him, taking a deep breath and expelling it loudly as she hit the Enter key.

Done.

Brittney walked into class, barely able to make eye contact with her teacher. Professor Parks was near Dylan’s age, with wavy brown hair, and pale blue eyes the color of a wolf’s, but his demeanor made him seem so much older. He never spoke in slang like younger people, but rather he always used perfect diction and grammar all the while managing to avoid being haughty about it.

She slipped into her desk, opening her book to the appropriate page. She hadn’t read any of her homework, needing every spare minute to write the paper. She hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t call on her with questions.

Professor came around his desk, leaning against the front and crossing his arms casually, waiting until everyone sat down and quieted. “I just checked Google Docs, and it appears that a few of you submitted right before class. I hope that means you finished days ago and you were rereading it rather than waiting until the last minute to complete the assignment.” He raised an eyebrow right at Sassy. She immediately picked up her pen, doodling a box on her paper, the shape symbolizing how his gaze made her feel at that moment. Boxed in.

“Everyone open up to the reading we had last night — Chapter Thirty-Four of
Wuthering Heights.
” He flipped open his book, walking between the aisles. “Catherine, can you please read it aloud?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Once her classmate had completed her passage, Professor Marks stopped next to Brittney. “Ms. Johnson, explain why Nelly would ask if Heathcliff had become a ghoul or a vampire?”

Shit!

“Uhm...” Brittney quickly wracked her brain for a response; any response, the ticking of the clock suddenly loud in the silent room. “She’s wondering if he’s sick because he’s pale like one of those.” She bit her lip, hoping it was the right answer.

He took his glasses off, putting the bow in his mouth, narrowing his gaze at her. “You didn’t read this, did you, Brittney?”

“Well, of course—”

“I know that Catherine just read it to the class, so you’ve heard it. But you apparently didn’t take the time to read it and analyze it as you should have. I want to see you after class.” He continued walking. “Amelia, can you answer the question?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Brittney glared at Amelia — always the perfect student. “Heathcliff had professed that Heaven was near, and Nelly said he stared out the window like a ‘goblin.’ Her superstition is speaking when she realizes that he has only one name, and no one knows where he came from — like a vampire or ghoul.”

“Good job, Amelia.” He spun on his heel. “And that, Ms. Johnson, is the answer a prepared student gives.”

And someone who likes to kiss asses all day. Why is he still looking at me?

“Yes, Sir.” He expected a response for every statement and question he directed at a student.

As soon as class ended, Brittney thought perhaps she could simply slip out unnoticed.

“Ms. Johnson, you were requested to see me after class, were you not?”

Caught.

She pivoted in the doorway and walked up to his desk. He sat on his left hip on the edge of the desk. “So what happened with your homework last night? Tell me what you did.”

“I spent all afternoon and evening writing my paper. I didn’t even finish until two o’clock in the morning.” She felt her anger rising, her voice growing shrill.

“Sir.”

“I didn’t finish until two o’clock in the morning,
Sir.
”

His jaw clenched, and he stood, closing the gap between them. “That means you delayed completing a project you were given for... about a
month
. If you had worked on it weekly, it would have been completed easily. So, was I correct in assuming that you didn’t read
Wuthering Heights
at all last night?”

She stared at his tie and tie clip, which were eye level for her, his height dwarfing and intimidating her. “Yes, Sir, you were correct.”

He stood, and she peeked up at him finding his blue eyes staring at her.

“Does Dylan know that you finished at two o’clock?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Does he know that you procrastinated for a month? And that you didn’t do your homework for class?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“No, Sir.” Sassy just knew where this would be going.

“Well, he will know. So, if I were you, I’d make sure you let him know before the e-mail alerting him arrives. And before your grade for your paper arrives on Sunday.”

“Yes, Sir.”

God, she didn’t want to tell Dylan. He’d find out through the e-mail. That way, she’d only get spanked once. There was always a chance that she’d tell him and get paddled immediately — and then get punished all over again when the e-mail came. She was
not
going to take a chance like that.

“I’ve seen this a thousand times, Ms. Johnson. I know exactly what you’re thinking. It will not work in your favor to wait for the e-mail. You might want to tell him as soon as you get home and hope such an action may gain you some support.” The corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “Trust me on this. Confession is always best.”

Smart man, but his common sense must be addled.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Chapter 2

M
addox sat behind his desk, shaking his head at the plight of submissives. He had no doubt that Brittney and Dylan were in a Dominant/submissive relationship, but more than that, he suspected that they had the same sort of Daddy/little girl relationship as he had with his own submissive. And no matter how much those special sorts of women knew they should confess and not hide any misbehavior from their Daddies, they always seemed to end up hiding something, hoping to avoid any retribution.

He had been a dominant to his little sub for over four years now, and no matter what Elizabeth did — Libby when she was his little girl — she struggled with obedience and submission. There was always the glimmer of hope that Daddy wouldn’t find out, that he’d never guess or have to be told.

Daddies always found out.

And more often than not, it was the evasive and delinquent behavior of their little girl that first alerted them to possible deception.

Maddox had been twenty-six when he’d met Libby Langdon, who at that time was forty-one years old. She’d been a student in his classroom. They had immediately butted heads — her behavior not unlike Brittney’s — his Libby proving to be unorganized, a procrastinator
extraordinaire
. But it wasn’t until the quarter had ended — and with it her participation in his class — that he’d contacted her to see if she’d be interested in going out for drinks.

Elizabeth had been divorced for almost two years and had teenaged children that were nearing the end of high school, getting ready to enter college themselves. Her self-esteem had plummeted in the wake of a brutal divorce, ground down by the lack of social life or someone to boost her mood and confidence daily.

She had a mid-level management position in Human Resources, and had been able to care for herself and the kids. Elizabeth had been independent and successful, respected by her peers, but lacked a relationship, a person to love. When they’d first met, she hadn’t believed that someone fifteen years her junior would be interested in her. That self-doubt had never really changed, either. Libby anticipated a farewell note and abandonment almost weekly. Maddox stroked her ego daily, and her self-image had improved dramatically. Once they started dating, she transferred her credits to UCLA and received her Bachelor’s Degree in creative writing.

Now, he was thirty, and Libby had just turned forty-five years old, and he couldn’t imagine being any happier with anyone. He’d never been someone attracted to women his age. Young women lacked the wisdom and life experience that he liked in a female. Conversations were deeper and more meaningful with a
seasoned
lady. When given the choice, he’d choose the woman with a little gray at the temples or laugh lines on her face versus the bouncy trouncy twenty-one-year-old whose only goal in life seemed to be seeing how many Jager bombs she could drink in one night before vomiting.

There were so many incidents with Libby putting things off that it was hard to find just one, but one incident in particular clearly stood above the others. Her son had asked her to send his application with the application fee to UCLA, where Maddox worked. As a professor there, he would be able to use his influence to help him through to acceptance into the college.

Libby had written the check, sealed the envelope and put it in the car to drop it off at the post office. Maddox still couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t just given
him
the envelope to drop off. Instead, Brandon had come home one night, slamming the door and stomping into the kitchen yelling, “Where is my mom?”

Maddox had stood up, walking toward him. “I don’t answer
any
questions shouted at me.”

Brandon had clenched his teeth, taking a deep breath, looking at the ceiling. “Maddox, do you know where my mother is?”

“Better. Yes, she’s at the grocery store. She should be home any minute. Let me get you some water. Sit down, and tell me what going on.”

Brandon had pulled out a barstool at the counter, relating that some of his friends had received acceptance letters from UCLA. He kept waiting to figure out where his was until he’d decided to call their admissions department. They’d informed him that they never received an application from him.

“It’s ruined. Now, I won’t get into UCLA. I’ll have to go somewhere else and hope I can get in.” Brandon had put his head in his hands.

“Whoa, buddy. Hold on. This game isn’t over. I’ll bring the application with me to work and get it pushed through. You or your mother should have given it to me immediately. When your mother gets home, we’ll get this taken care of.”

They had only talked for a short time about school and sports before the garage door opened and closed, Libby coming through the door to the laundry room into the kitchen, her arms full of groceries.

“Mom! Where is my application for UCLA? I just found out that I missed the deadline — because you never mailed it!” Brandon had stood up, his face turning red.

Libby had clunked the bags onto the counter, her mouth opening and closing, blinking at Brandon. “Oh, my God. I... it must be... I put it in the car and—”

“And you never mailed it, Mom! You ruined things — again!” Brandon charged through the laundry and into the garage, the door banging against the wall as he flung it aside.

Maddox had walked up to Libby, whispering in her ear. “Daddy’s going to spank this little bottom for procrastinating again.” He hooked his thumbs into her black dress pants, pulling just the back down, resting the elastic just under her bottom. Her breath had caught, and her body stiffened, he turned her sideways, so her exposed backside faced the opposite direction of the door, and swatted each cheek several times, before quickly righting her clothes again.