The Doctor and the Naughty Girl (3 page)

“I’m blowing my last on this spread tonight.” Amity winced, knowing how long it still was until payday, with the knowledge that she wouldn’t have near enough money to make it until then. Maybe she could take the bus and eat ramen?

Yeah, just like in college, you idiot. Making great progress on building a life, aren’t you?

As if on cue, their server snaked her way through the people surrounding their table, setting her tray down and giving them a sweet smile while she unloaded another handful of shots. Her curly brown hair was pinned over in a 1920s flapper look that only really worked with women blessed with delicate, almost elfin facial features.

It worked with the server’s face—very well.

The bitch.

Laying Amity’s debit card down in front of her, the server shrugged. “This was declined. Do you have another card we could charge to?”

“Shit.” Amity opened her small clutch purse, looking for a card she knew she didn’t have.

“It’s okay,” Kaitlyn said, laying a hand on Amity’s shoulder. “I’ve got it. Just put it on mine.” She handed her credit card to Flapper Girl server, who was gone so fast it was as if she were never there.

“Thanks, Kate.” Amity could feel the heat of her blush spread up her neck. “I’ll pay you back. Promise.”

Kaitlyn grinned at her and gave her another shot. “You can pay me back by closing this fucking place down with me. Now, drink!”

As the burn of the third shot suffused her body with warmth, the swirling, acrid cigarette smoke and the booming bass making her head buzz, Amity smiled.

Fuck this ‘responsible’ shit. Time to have some fun.

* * *

The sound of pouring rain on the carport roofs outside her window woke her up.

Her head pounded so hard it felt like someone was trying to inflate a balloon inside her skull. She wiped away a partially dried slick of what she hoped was drool from her cheek. Her apartment bedroom spun slowly as she forced herself to sit up.

Something was wrong. She didn’t remember hearing the blaring alarm tone on her phone. And it was way too bright outside for six in the morning.

“Oh, shit.”

Bursting up to her feet, ignoring the momentary wave of nausea, she rifled through her tangled covers until she found her phone. She looked at the time. 7:39.

“Goddamn it!” She dropped the phone onto the mattress, bending over it, berating it as one might a dog who’d peed on the carpet. “Why didn’t you go off?”

It wasn’t the first time she’d cursed her phone for her own stupidity. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

She scrubbed her face with her hands, trying to get her eyes to focus.

“I’ll call in sick,” she muttered, stumbling into her bathroom, tangling her feet in dirty clothes and almost sending herself sprawling. She lifted the lid on the toilet and sat, holding her head in her hands as she peed.

She knew she couldn’t call in sick now. Way too late for that. And he’d
know
. He seemed like the type who’d always know. Somehow, although that thought scared her, it made her feel something else at the same time. A sort of vague reassurance.

Stop being an idiot, Amity. You’re up shit creek here.

Shivering through a lukewarm shower that never seemed to warm up, she pondered her options. The thought of going back to her dad, admitting that she couldn’t handle living on her own, made her sicker than booze ever could. No, she couldn’t do that. She knew he wouldn’t help her anyway—he’d just give her that look. The ‘I knew it’ look that all parents seemed to have in their DNA. The kind of look that made her want to scream, made her want to climb the highest mountain, swim any ocean, brave any hardship, anything to show him that he was
wrong
.

Drying herself off, she shivered, but it wasn’t only from the cold. She had to do it. Dr. McKendrick wouldn’t
really
spank her, of course. It was a bluff, or a figure of speech. He’d probably just make her life hell for a week or two, write her up. The usual. Then it would blow over.

“Yeah, as long as you keep your nose clean, you stupid bitch,” she snapped, yanking up her skirt. “Good luck with that.”

As she sat in her car, letting it warm up, the rain pelted steadily against the windshield, the glass fogged almost completely up. She hit the number for the office, holding a hand to her pounding, clammy forehead.

“Doctor McKendrick’s office.”

Amity swallowed. It was Cathie’s voice.

“Hi—Cathie? It’s Amity.”

“I know.” The nurse’s voice was cold, flat. “Hang on, Amity.”

She clicked over, the Muzak like a twisted funeral dirge. She was in deep shit.

The hold music cut out. “Amity?” It was the rumbling voice of Dr. McKendrick, the deep tone setting off a subtle coiling deep within her. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m on my way.”

“Are you driving right now?” His voice raised, and she cringed.

“No! No, I’m sitting in my car. Parked.”

“Okay… good. I don’t want you using the phone and driving, Amity.”

“What?”

“You heard me. It’s not safe, and I won’t have you putting yourself or others in danger. Hear me?”

“Yeah… yes, okay.”

“Now, what happened?”

Amity couldn’t say it, knowing that as soon as she did one door would close—forever—and another would open. She just didn’t know if she wanted to walk through it or run screaming.

“I… forgot to set the alarm on my phone. Slept in.”

He didn’t say anything for several long moments, Amity’s heart pounding louder by the second until it matched the agonizing cadence of the throbbing in her head.

“I’ll see you when you get in. Obviously, we have some… talking to do today. The schedule’s too busy to do this now so we’ll wait until closing. After you lock up for the day, I want you in the conference room.”

Amity’s mouth went dry, but she nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… “

He sighed, the disappointment in his tone almost worse than if he’d been angry. “Don’t speed, Amity. And wear your seat belt.”

Chapter Four

He thought he’d be angrier than he was, but mostly what he felt was disappointment. He was disappointed that she’d decided to continue being irresponsible. And he was disappointed that he’d been right that she would.

Cathie called him as soon as Amity got in, but he let Amity be for the remainder of the day, knowing her dread of what was to come would be far worse—and more effective—than any words he could say to her. His wayward young admin was currently cooling her heels in the conference room, waiting until he finished up with Mrs. Becker, who’d come in just before closing with Braxton-Hicks for the third time in a week.

Satisfied she wasn’t going into actual labor, he sent Mrs. Becker up front to check out with Cathie, then made his way down the hall, shutting off most of the lights in the exam area and going over what he might say, what he thought Amity might say.

And trying to not think about the choice he wanted her to make.

He walked in, finding Amity standing on the far side of the table. She’d chosen a white knit top that flattered her figure, a smooth gray skirt that tightened a little at the sweeping arc of her hips. Her dark hair was caught in a ponytail, a wisp of it falling down over her forehead.

Of course she’d have to look hot today.

“Have a seat, Amity.”

“I’d—I’d rather stand.”

He looked up at her. She met his gaze, but he could see her fingers trembling as she swept away the stray lock of hair.

“Okay, so,” he took his seat, leaning back, elbows on the arms of the chair, “is this going to be a quick meeting? Are you giving me your resignation today?”

For a moment she wrung her hands, then she took a deep shuddery breath. “No, I’m not.”

Dane almost put his hand to his jaw, sure it would hit the floor.

Here goes, Dane. You’d better know what the fuck you’re doing here.

“And you understand what that means then? What you’re choosing, rather than resigning?”

He needed to hear her say it. Dane wanted to make sure she actually was ready to go through with it. He hoped the shock of hearing her say the words would wake her up, in case she wasn’t truly serious.

“I—you’re really going to make me say this?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Fuck,” she said under her breath, glancing down.

There were other things that needed to be addressed besides her atrocious punctuality.

“If you can’t say it, then I want your resignation letter on my desk within the next fifteen minutes. This behavior ends today—the only question is how.”

Amity stiffened, looking over Dane’s head. “I’m choosing to be… punished.”

“Punished, how?”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m going to be… spanked.”

“That’s right, you are.” Dane slid his chair back and stood. He walked over to the door and locked it. He smiled, hearing her breath catch.

“What… are you doing?”

He turned back to her, hands on his hips. “I can leave it unlocked, if you’d like. Maybe Cathie might walk in while you’re being spanked? Is that what you want?”

“No!” She glanced down. “Sorry. No, sir.”

There it is again.

Just that one word had his cock hardening, and he hadn’t even started her spanking yet.

Dane pulled one of the conference room chairs out, dragging it to the middle of the open section of the floor under the big picture window.

“Come here, Amity.”

For a moment, it was as if her legs refused to obey, a halting, almost spasmodic movement. Then she inhaled deeply, lifted her chin, and walked to him.

He gazed at her, watching for any reaction, any hint that she’d lose her nerve. But he didn’t see it. All he saw were those big, beautiful eyes, wide with apprehension, the trembling of her upper lip. He took a seat, looking up at her.

“Lie across my lap.”

“Sir, please… “

“Looks like we need to go over some ground rules.” He gave her a smile. “Not too many, at first. But this first one is a big one.”

He watched the slender column of her pale throat work as she swallowed, her chest rising and falling faster now.

“When you’re being punished, you obey any instruction given you. Do you understand that?”

Her nod was a halting gesture, more a jerk of her head than an acknowledgment.

“Try again, Amity. That’s another rule. When you’re asked a question, you respond verbally.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” Her hands twisted together in front of her, her eyes on the floor.

My God, she’s beautiful.

“Now that you’ve agreed to the rules, what are you supposed to do now?”

She looked up at him a moment, then dropped her eyes again, her cheeks flushing scarlet.

“I’m waiting, Amity.”

He held out a hand. That first feel of her soft, trembling palm was something he knew he’d never forget for the rest of his days. He held her hand as she awkwardly obeyed, laying a hand on his thigh first that made his balls tingle, before lowering herself over his lap, the feel of her slight weight so sweet he wanted to just have her lie there so he could savor it.

But it wasn’t time for that, not now anyway. He needed to get this over with for her.

“Put your hands on the floor, and they will not leave the floor until I tell you. Understand that?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He gave her creamy thigh a little slap, and she jerked. “Yes,
what?
”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

She sighed a little as he said it, the tension in her body lessening ever so slightly.

He laid a hand on her skirt-clad bottom, savoring every second of this first punishment of the wayward girl. He knew he had to get this right if he had any hope that this wouldn’t be the last. He squeezed the taut bottom, feeling the tension in her muscles.

“Ready, Amity?”

“Oh, God…” Her voice was almost a squeak, quavering.

He waited for her, caressing her bottom, as she struggled with it, with her active submission to her impending punishment.

“Yes, sir.”

He brought his palm down at a measured pace, giving her firm, but not harsh spanks at first, warming up that bottom on this inaugural spanking. She stayed remarkably still as he smacked one side, then the other, then aimed lower, hitting a little harder at the base of her lush bottom. She flinched a little at those blows, but stayed quiet. The skirt was thin, so he knew it wasn’t giving her much protection. Then he stopped, rubbing slow circles over her ass, loving the roundness of it, the broadness of her hips.

He ran a hand down her thighs until his fingers hooked under the hem of her skirt, drawing it up slowly. She tightened then.

“What are you…?”

“Taking your skirt up,” he said, skimming it up to the base of her bottom, revealing the lush, pale thighs. He paused a moment to stroke them, to savor their soft vulnerability, the way she hadn’t made a move to get off of his lap even as she protested. There was something else going on with the intriguing young woman, something deeper, and he looked forward to the day when he could find out just what that was.

“You never said anything about…
that
.”

“All spankings are taken on a bare bottom, Amity. I never punish on anything but the bare. It doesn’t even need to be said.” His hand on her thigh stilled. “You’re just going to have to accept that. Are you backing out now?”

He would let her go, even though he silently prayed she’d have the courage not to run, to face what she needed, what he suspected she—deep down—wanted. It wouldn’t be easy, but this—and their mutual discovery of what might lead from it—was something she had to choose. But once that choice was made, he intended to hold her to it. All of it.

“Well, are you?”

Amity’s body shuddered, her breath coming even faster. “I’m afraid.”

His hand stopped, and he caressed her bottom once more, his other hand stroking up and down her back, feeling the bra strap be longed to unsnap, but knowing it wasn’t time for it.