The Doctor and the Naughty Girl (2 page)

Maybe if you partied less than seven days a week you could do that, genius.

Her friends, of course, despite most of them obviously being more slender of build than Amity’s curvy frame, always insisted she didn’t need to lose an ounce, she was gorgeous, she should be proud. But she didn’t believe any of it. She knew her skirts were a little too tight, how ill-fitting her old bras had become, her breasts practically spilling out of them now. Getting new ones required money though—money she didn’t have due to the aforementioned partying. But she could tough it out for a while longer. Maybe she’d even finally lose those ten pounds and it wouldn’t matter anymore?

Yeah, anyway.

Chapter Two

At least she wasn’t late for the meeting. He watched her slip into the room, the sound of a ringing phone in the exam area silenced as she closed the door quietly, as a tardy child might when sneaking into a classroom.

He found his eye drawn to that skirt of hers again. It was something he might expect to see in a dance club, not a professional office. It hugged the curves of her hips tightly, the smooth, but lush thighs daringly revealed to an extent that had him grinding his teeth.

It also had his cock at attention, but he’d just have to ignore that. It was a simple reaction, that’s all. Visual stimulus. The bottom line—he winced to himself at the thought—was that it was a distraction, and nothing more. An image he didn’t want projected at the office.

Rationalizing jackass.

“Have a seat,” he said, indicating one of the chairs across the table from him.

She dropped into it, holding her hands in her lap, her shoulders slumped over slightly, as if sheltering herself.

“You know why we’re here, right?”

“Not exactly, but I can take a guess.”

He steepled his fingers atop the table, leaning slightly over it, trying to look serious but non-threatening. He didn’t want to scare the girl, and he knew some men didn’t understand that particular consideration for women, especially young ones.

“What’s going on with you, Amity? You seem like you’re anywhere else but at your job—even when you do manage to make it in on time.”

“I don’t know, sir.”

His cock spasmed at the word.

She isn’t Steph, Dane. This isn’t the time.

“That’s it? You don’t know?” He calmed his voice, keeping it as relaxed as he could, despite the tightening at his groin and the persistent image of turning her bare bottom over his knee and smacking it until she cried, until the reddened buttocks radiated heat like a furnace.

Until she’d submitted to him.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

“
I’m really sorry for being late. I know… it’s a problem.”

“It’s more than a problem, Amity. It’s completely unacceptable.” He looked down, sighing. “The question is: what are we going to do about it?”

“I—I don’t…”

“I know it’s… hard to hold down a full-time job at your age. I was twenty-four once.”

She smiled, peering up at him through the long dark eyelashes he’d had long practice trying not to notice.

“But I’m paying you to do a job. And I need you to be here to do it. On time.”

“Yes, sir. I just think—”

He held up a hand. “Let me finish, Amity. I want you to listen to me.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

He wanted to make her sorry for it. Really sorry. Then he wanted to soothe her afterward.

What the fuck?

Dane cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, his cock a throbbing ache between his legs.

“This is a warning, and it’s a last chance. Do you understand what I’m saying here?”

The smooth brow furrowed. “I don’t… think so.”

“I’m giving you one more chance, Amity. Another screw-up in the scheduling, another minute late for a shift, and you’ll have a decision to make.”

He knew he shouldn’t do this, but he also knew somewhere inside the irresponsible kid in that much too alluring woman’s body, there was a person who just needed some help. Some guidance. Some structure.

And some discipline. Lots of it.

Yes, it was a risky shot, but it was a calculated one. Last week, after the IT head for their medical group had sent an e-mail asking management to be on the lookout for certain sites, Dane had reviewed the website traffic logs for his office. And what he’d seen in Amity’s history was… eye-opening indeed. Spanking story sites. Shopping for BDSM erotic romance on retailer sites. Nothing pornographic, and nothing he’d even really bat an eye at normally, but it
did
make him wonder.

So he had to take a risk here. He suspected she’d almost certainly screw things up again—she’d shown zero indication that she wouldn’t. Which meant this would either force her to shape up, or force her to just quit. He knew what he hoped she’d do. Sometimes, when people were struggling, they needed a little push, a nudge, in order to start moving in the right direction again.

Or they needed their bottoms tanned.

“
If it happens again, I’ll expect you to tender your resignation in writing. Immediately.”

Amity’s face reddened. “I know that won’t be necessary, sir.”

“I’m not done.”

“Sorry.” She dropped her eyes, and he wanted to do nothing more than to caress her cheek, feel the softness of her skin, the heat of her blush against his palm.

Dane took a deep breath. “In that event, you can choose to resign… or you can choose to be punished.”

Amity’s gaze shot up. “Punished?”

He gave her a solemn nod.

Steady, Dane.

Her eyebrow arched. “I don’t—how?”

“How do you think, Amity?”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

Dane’s jaw creaked as he gritted his teeth. “I’m quite serious. You screw up again, and you choose not to walk? You’ll be spanked.”

Amity’s face paled, but there were still points of color in each cheek, her eyes blinking rapidly. “I—I’m not some… little girl. You can’t do this.”

Dane unlaced his fingers, placing his palms flat on the cool table. “What I do depends on you. It’s your choice. You can choose to shape up and start doing your job, and nothing will come of this. This warning won’t even go in your file.”

She raised her chin, her eyes narrowing. “I won’t screw up. That… it won’t happen.”

“As long as you do what you’re supposed to do, it won’t.” Dane met her gaze, glaring. “But if you don’t, you’re out of here—or you take the consequences. Again, your choice.”

Amity pushed her chair back, gathering up her purse as she stood.

“Where are you going?”

Her head tilted, a thumb hooked over her shoulder. “Going… back to work?”

“Sit down.”

She hadn’t bolted, hadn’t cursed him, hadn’t called him a sexist prick, or any number of other names he’d imagined. His heart pounded in his chest, his erection not relenting one bit. He’d definitely be letting her leave the room first, because walking comfortably wasn’t in the cards for the next few minutes.

Amity frowned. “I’d like to go. This isn’t exactly fun for me.”

“It’s not for me either, but you brought this on yourself.” Dane pointed to her chair. “Sit down, Amity.”

“Whatever.” She dropped her purse on the table, sitting down, but not meeting his gaze.

“I want you to start taking better care of your appearance. You walked in today looking like you’d just rolled off of someone’s couch after a night partying. Skirt wrinkled, buttons undone. And it’s far from the first time.”

Dane wanted to tell her she couldn’t wear heels anymore either, because they made the sway of her round bottom devastatingly effective. He wanted to tell her she had to cover up her breasts entirely, because there were too many times he’d wondered what their soft, vulnerable weight would feel like in his hands. And he wanted to tell her not to look at him with those big brown eyes anymore either.

He had a feeling they had the power to bring a man to his knees.

“Hey, look at me.” He dipped his head, trying to meet her gaze. “It’s unprofessional. Just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean you can get away with not even trying. Not here.”

“Unprofessional? And threatening to…
spank
me is professional?”

“I mean it, Amity.”

“Fine.” Crossing her arms, Amity glared at him. “Is there anything else you’d like to criticize me for? My fashion sense? Is my butt too big? Do I breathe too loudly?”

“Be quiet, young lady.”

“I—” Then her mouth dropped open, her eyes going wide, but she didn’t say anything further.

“You’re an adult. You’re going to start acting like one, one way or the other. You’re a smart girl. I
know
you’re better than this, so that’s why I’m giving you another chance here.”

“Yes, I
am
an adult.” She held up a hand, palm up. “So why are you treating me like a little girl?”

“Start giving me a reason not to, Amity.” Dane forced his voice to soften. “That’ll be all, Ms. Derrington.”

Her brow furrowed as she gave him a parting glance, her blush still coloring her cheeks. Then she got up and fled from the room.

He sat there, waiting for his cock to let him have some peace, knowing he’d be icing his balls later on for this. The last sight of her leaving didn’t help either. That dark skirt, tight, clutching that gorgeous ass in a snug embrace. He hoped he’d shocked her into behaving better, at starting to at least try. But he had his doubts. Serious doubts. And it wouldn’t do to lie to himself either.

Amity needed someone to help her; that much was true. Not for the first time, he wondered if there was already someone in her life, wondered if that man would be capable of giving her what she needed. He had some idea of what would really turn her around, and he knew she wouldn’t like it one bit. But thinking back on the sites he’d found on her traffic report, he wondered. Maybe her subconscious was telling her what she needed—but the girl refused to listen.

It was all speculation and psychoanalyzing bullshit, probably. Odds are she’d take the first option, resign, and ask Chuck Derrington to find her yet another job she was ill-prepared to hold down. Another opportunity to squander her good fortune, to fail to live up to what Dane could see was possible with her. If she’d only try! Accountability would help her in that, he knew it as surely as he knew his own name. But she first had to admit that to herself—and that was often the hardest battle.

There was at least one thing that was crystal clear here, though. Part of him hoped she’d fuck up again too. And soon.

Chapter Three

The bass was so loud the ice in the glasses atop the slate gray bistro table vibrated with it. The table area was jam-packed, drunk women and trashed guys constantly bumping them or stumbling by, the deafening music drowning out most of the conversation around her.

“What do you think of him?” Kaitlyn bleated into Amity’s ear, stirring a drink with two little black straws. She smiled eagerly, nodding her head toward the subject.

Kaitlyn’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, Michael, had decided to bring along a friend to the club. And both guys were standing near the bar, waiting to get through the crush of people to snag another drink.

The new guy was okay. Easy on the eyes. Tall and slim, with gorgeous dark hair, but when he’d shook her hand his grip had been gentle, almost soft. That closed the door right there for Amity. It was a sign—and one she’d always believed in. A handshake said something about a guy. And his told her he wasn’t the type of guy she was looking for, no matter how handsome he was. His name was Brandon. Maybe.

“I don’t know, Kate. He seems sweet. Might just be a bad night for me,” she lied.

“Well, if it’s a bad night for you—” Kaitlyn held up two shot glasses, pressing one into Amity’s hand, “—then we got some work to do, bitch!”

Amity threw back the shot, the burn spreading down her throat, heat blooming in her belly. She slapped the glass to the tabletop, giving Kaitlyn a smile. The buzz was already going, and it was only Amity’s second shot. She knew she should’ve eaten something earlier. It didn’t help either that she was practically broke. She had just enough money in her account to pay for her drinks tonight—she hoped. Then maybe a splash of gas into her tank in the morning to get her ass to work—definitely on time.

It was still something she couldn’t quite get her mind around. The meeting with Dr. McKendrick. What he’d said to her—and how she’d reacted. Should she have stomped out and filed a sexual harassment complaint against him? She guessed some would have—but he wasn’t
really
harassing her. Was he? He’d given her a choice. A twisted, fucked-up choice, sure, but a choice nonetheless. Not
all
of what he said was technically untrue, either. She knew she wasn’t really being responsible, but on the other hand, what else was being young about? So what if he was right? How dull would life be if everyone always followed the rules, always did the ‘responsible thing’? Right?

Maybe he was just fucking with her, trying to get her to quit. But what if he really wanted her to choose the other option? Get her ass smacked. Would he actually want to spank her? Would he get off on it?

Don’t kid yourself, honey. With your ass and thighs? A guy like him can do a lot better.

Of course, in the books she read, the guys did get off on it—a lot. But that was fiction, fantasy. She’d never actually met a boy with the inclination—or the balls—to actually try it with her.

The fantasy image that conjured up caused a stirring deep in her belly. Her standing before Dr. McKendrick, her head bowed, wringing her hands in front of her while he lectured her sternly, his hand on her hip, making sure she knew she wasn’t going anywhere until he was done with her. Then, just like in the hundreds of books she’d never admit were on her e-reader, he’d draw her across his knees, fingers hooking in the waistband—

“Amity, what the fuck, girl? You’re staring off into space.” Kaitlyn’s face drew close, the thumping music swelling louder again all around them. “You need to drink more!”