The Naughty Corner (5 page)

He needed his hands on her flesh.

* * *

LOLA FELT SHIVERY WITH DESIRE. SHE’D NEVER BEEN KINKY. SHE
had no idea why the thought of his hand slapping her bottom turned her on. Maybe it was the months since she’d had a man. Maybe it was just the coach. Maybe anything he wanted to do to her would turn her insides to liquid. His rules heated her. His voice in her ear made her breasts swell with need. The salty taste of his palm when she’d licked him still tantalized her. With her back to him, she couldn’t see him, could only feel the warmth of his body, and her rump in the air made her feel deliciously exposed.

“Very nice.” His voice was low, a little hoarse, as if the sight excited him.

She had so many questions. Was he a dom? She wasn’t naïve; she’d heard the term. She’d just never been with a man who was into this sort of stuff. Did he always do this to women? Had he done these things with his wife?
Why
did he get off on spanking? But of course she was supposed to be silent.

“To start, we’re going to need to raise this delightful skirt.” He leaned over her backside, hands on the hem, body nestled against her from abdomen to groin. Good Lord, he was hard. Her body answered with a rush of moisture.

If she’d had any doubt this was sexual, the idea was banished completely.

He raised her skirt inches at a time, his fingers hot and slightly rough along her thighs. “Has anyone ever spanked this luscious ass before?”

She was allowed to answer his questions. “No, never.” Her voice was so husky she almost didn’t recognize herself.

“It’s good to be a woman’s first,” he told her as he stepped back to ease the skirt up over her butt. Comparatively cool air washed over her skin.

“Christ,” he muttered on a breath. “You’re gorgeous. Spanking a beautiful ass like this is a man’s wet dream.”

His compliments heated her as much as the brush of his fingers across her flesh. Oh yes, she liked the words, she
loved
the words.

“You’re smooth like the soft skin of a peach and the color of cream.” He cupped one cheek in his palm. “No naked sunbathing, I assume.”

Who had time for sunbathing? Especially with the fear of skin cancer. Besides, her deck was too small and not at all private, and she never made it down to the condo’s pool. But with the note of reverence in his voice, she was glad she covered up in the sun.

“I like the red thong. I want to make your ass match that exact shade,” he whispered, and the soft caress of his breath bathed her flesh with warmth.

She was hot and turned on, yet her pulse raced with a lick of fear as well. Would it hurt? She’d never been spanked. Her parents hadn’t believed in it. She didn’t like needles. Or having her teeth drilled. Or pain in general.

He slapped her so unexpectedly that she squeaked, a little-girl sound that escaped her without warning.

“Don’t tell me that hurt.”

It hadn’t. Despite a slight stinging, it actually felt . . . well . . . good, especially when his hand remained, caressing her butt cheek. But he hadn’t asked a question, so she didn’t say a thing.

“The imprint of my hand is so pretty on your flesh.”

This time she was prepared for the sharp swat. It reverberated up through her cheeks to her back. What she wasn’t prepared for was the stroke of his fingers right down the crotch of her thong. Her muscles tightened in reaction, intensifying the rush of pleasure. Yes, pleasure. Erotic, sensual, sweet pleasure. She gripped the back of the chair harder.

“Hot,” he murmured. “Sexy.”

His hand connected again, then slid once more down the smooth crotch of her panty, his fingers probing gently.

Oh God. She closed her eyes, the sensations luscious and overwhelming. Her body throbbed, not with pain but with pure pleasure.

He slapped her again, then again, another time, over and over. Her knuckles turned white on the chair. Her breath puffed from her mouth. Her ears started to ring. And always, there was the incessant stroke of his fingers, back and forth, up and down, pushing in.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demanded, his voice harsh, far off, as if from somewhere deep in one of her fantasies.

Slap, stroke, caress. Lord. She’d never felt anything like it. The sting, the pain, the pleasure, they all became one single sensation. Incredible. Out of this world. Certainly out of her experience. She couldn’t breathe. She could only feel and want and need.

She was on the edge of orgasm when he stopped. Lola groaned. She wanted to beg.
Please, please, please, don’t stop.

“Do you like it?”

She gasped, then the truth simply fell from her lips. “God, yes. Yes, please. More.”

* * *

THEY WERE THE WORDS GRAY NEEDED TO HEAR. HE’D WANTED TO
make her beg. He’d used a cupped hand to spank her, causing the least amount of pain, yet her ass was a succulent shade of red. He’d done all he’d intended for her initiation. Short and sweet and delicious, enough to ensure she’d come back for more, a taste of what he could offer her.

But she drove him to
need
more. Her soft moans and sighs had wormed their way beneath his skin.

“I’m going to give you what you crave.” What
he
craved. He’d spanked other women. He’d spanked his wife, but that was long ago, before his son was born. None of them had taken to it like Lola.

“We need to remove your panties.” If she had any objections, she could most certainly voice them now.

She sighed her permission.

Slowly, lingering on each separate action, he hooked his index fingers in the elastic at her hips and drew the material over her sweet, burning ass. The crotch clung to her pussy a moment before pulling free.

Christ, the sight was enough to make him come. She was moist, her cream dampening the panties, the fragrance of her arousal filling his head, mesmerizing him.

Without prompting, she shifted so he could slip the silky material down her legs. As he bent, he pressed a kiss to the juncture of her thighs. She moaned, a wisp of sound.

Her taste, sweet and salty, enflamed him. His cock throbbed in his pants, and a wild urge rose in him. The need to take her was almost irresistible.

Yet he had so many plans for her, things he’d been dreaming of. He wouldn’t spoil it all by rushing. She was too perfect not to savor slowly.

But he would take more than he’d planned. That sweet kiss. And her climax.

Rising, he put his hand to her pussy, steeped himself in the feel of her. “You’re wet, you dirty girl. You loved what I did.” She made no reply. “Didn’t you?” His voice rose on the question, giving her permission to speak.

“Yes,” she said with that same breathy sigh that tightened his balls.

“Does your bottom sting?”

“Yes. In a good way.” Her long hair fell down over her shoulders, obscuring her face.

“Do you want to come?”

“God, yes.” Need laced her voice.

“I’m going to make you climax like you never have before.” Stepping aside, he opened the side table drawer and withdrew a string of three brass balls. He’d never used them. They’d been sitting in his bedroom cabinet, but they’d come into play in a particularly graphic and very satisfying fantasy about her, and tonight he’d retrieved them even as he’d told himself it was too soon.

Rounding to the front of the chair, he leaned back into the corner. Holding the end, he let the balls fall down on their chain. “Ever used Ben Wa balls?”

She shook her head, her hair swaying across her face. Reaching out, he tucked the locks behind her ears.

“I’m going to put them inside you where they’ll stroke your G-spot.”

Something flickered in her eyes. “They won’t get stuck?”

He allowed her the question, even though he hadn’t expressly permitted it. Wiggling the chain, he said, “This will be outside.”

She eyed them a moment longer, then nodded.

“Shall I warm them or do you want them cold?”

“Which is better?”

Hell, the woman was perfect. “They’re two intensely different sensations.” He cocked his head. “We’ll do them cold. Stay right where you are. Don’t move.”

In the kitchen, he grabbed a few pieces of ice. With the balls and the ice in his hand, he held them over the sink until water dripped through his fingers and his palms were slightly numb.

Back in the living room, he put his hand on her ass. She squealed and jerked away.

“Oh yeah,” he drawled, “perfect.”

Then he slid the balls inside her. She gasped, throwing her head back, and he lingered, testing, playing. Jesus, she was wet. And hot.

“This is going to be good, baby.” The length of chain dangling from the pink lushness of her pussy was truly one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen.

He pulled her hair together in his hand, wrapped it once around his palm, the silky length like a rope to hold her in place. Then he swatted her ass, his fingers landing squarely on the crease between her thighs.

Lola moaned, and her body began to tremble.

He had no clue how he would stop himself from coming right along with her when she reached her climax.

* * *

INTENSE SENSATION ROCKETED THROUGH HER JUST THE WAY HE’D
said it would. Lola gasped for breath, her entire body tensing, tightening, shuddering.

It was the slap on the outside, the heat of his fingers on her, and the rock and roll of those deliciously cold, dirty little balls inside her. It was like a cock hitting her G-spot except that the balls moved separately, eliciting completely different and totally incredible sensations.

“Oh God, Coach.” She wasn’t supposed to speak, but there was no way she could stop.

He smacked her butt and caressed her pussy simply with the angle of his hand. Over and over. He never entered her, never stroked her clitoris. But he drove her mad. Until she honestly couldn’t remember her own name. Until she could no longer cry out his. Until she was panting and moaning, pushing back against him, increasing the pressure inside, forcing his slaps to be harder, more potent, mind-altering.

When he pulled on the chain, setting the balls into greater motion, she thought she’d faint. Then he swatted her again, and they went deeper, slip sliding over her G-spot.

Her climax was like a wave crashing over her head, dragging her down, tumbling her around, over, under. Her eyes leaked tears, her pulse pounded in her ears.

Then she found herself on the hardwood floor, her body slumped against his, her face smashed to his chest. The balls lay on the floor beside them, still wet with her orgasm.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

“That was punishment,” he answered.

If it was, she knew she had to make sure the twins were very, very bad.

4

PROPPED AGAINST THE SIDE OF THE SOFA, HE BASKED IN THE HEAT
of her body and the afterglow of her climax.

“Can I speak now?”

He should probably say no. “Yes.” She didn’t move, simply lay boneless against his chest. He liked her there.

“Why do you enjoy doing that?”

Women always wanted to know why. Sometimes there was no answer, at least not one he could explain properly. “Did you like it?”

She’d already admitted it verbally and physically. Why try to deny now? “Yes.”

“That’s why I enjoy it. Because it’s pleasurable.”

“But there are plenty of other things that are pleasurable.”

True. “I like the power in it. It’s like when a woman sucks a man’s cock, she holds all the power, and it’s sexy as hell.”

She snorted and leaned back against the support of his arm to look up at him. “Women don’t have power when they give a man a blow job.”

He enjoyed the pucker of her lips when she said the word. “Like hell they don’t. When a woman has a man’s cock in her mouth, she owns him. He’ll do anything she wants.” He’d proposed to his ex-wife while she was sucking him. Not that it was a bad thing, but she’d gotten what she wanted with her skills as a cocksucker.

At the advanced age of forty-five, however, he’d learned to control a woman even when his cock was in her mouth.

Lola tried to follow his logic. “So when a man’s spanking a woman, he owns her.”

“It’s the one doing the spanking who holds the power. The hand can hurt or it can bring pleasure. And a little of both can be immeasurably satisfying.”

She digested that for a time. “I still don’t see how spanking is the only way for a man to get power. If that’s what you’re really after.”

He shifted slightly, easing the pressure on his tailbone. “It’s not the only way, just one of them. But more than power, I simply enjoy things on the kinky side. Tying up. Blindfolding. Having my wicked way.”

“What about whipping and caning and”—she stopped, blinked—“and all that other nasty stuff.”

“I don’t use whips or paddles or floggers. I want to feel your skin heat beneath my hand. I want my fingers to sink into your wetness.”

He’d started this by telling her he wanted to punish her for what her nephews did. Now he was admitting it was all about the punishment. It was time to let her go, before she figured out that tonight, with her perfect reaction and her magnificent orgasm, it had suddenly become all about
her
.

He rose, pulled her with him. She shimmied her skirt down, her eyes slightly bewildered with his abrupt move.

“Make sure they behave tomorrow,” he warned.

“Yes, Coach.”

He sensed there was more on the tip of her tongue, but she bent to retrieve her thong. He was there in a flash, grabbing it before she could.

“Mine,” he said, one brow raised. He wanted the lingerie wrapped around his cock when he came tonight.

And after the next time her nephews misbehaved, he wanted her lips wrapped around his cock when he climaxed.

* * *

HE’D THROWN HER OUT. SORT OF. LOLA WASN’T QUITE SURE
what had happened. One moment she was probing his psyche, the next he’d withdrawn and was showing her the door.

Except that he’d kept her panties. It meant something when a man kept a woman’s panties, didn’t it? And all those compliments. His sweet words rang in her ears just the way the spanking still burned exquisitely on her skin.