Good Girl (12 page)

“The outdoors is all we’ve got in
Madison County. I grew up walking all over the hills, swimming in the lake,
cross-country skiing in the winter.”

They got into the towncar and Hunter
ordered, “The Beekman, please.”

Kali took off her sneakers and tucked
them back in her bag in place of her high heels. She was wearing a form-fitting
gray skirt and jacket with a tiny ruffled edge on the lapels. The jacket
gathered at the back of her waist, with a pleated flare of silvery gray fabric pointing
down to her butt. The skirt did things for her ass that he didn’t think were
possible.

She curled up on the seat facing him.
“What’s the Beekman?”

“It’s a surprise. I hope you like it.”

The car took them all the way up to
midtown via 2
^nd
Avenue, stopping at 46
^th
Street. “The
Beekman Hotel,” the driver announced as he pulled up.

Hunter noticed that her brows drew
together briefly, a fleeting frown. She didn’t like it that he was bringing her
to a hotel. As they walked through the lobby, she was reserved, letting him
guide her but not smiling into his eyes the way she did before.

He could have told her then that they
were going to the restaurant on the 26
^th
floor with the most amazing
360-degree view of the city. But she thought he was taking her to a hotel room.
She was pre-judging him because he was kinky and she thought this was only
about sex. He was going to let her keep on assuming things, just to show her
that she didn’t know him at all.

It’s true that on Monday he had
considered reserving a room for after dinner, but her comfort was his main
concern. He had decided to wait to see if she liked the idea of a neutral space
their first time together. But it turned out their first time together was in
the bathroom of a ferry taxi! And she said she wasn’t kinky… little did she
know herself.

Now, seeing her reaction to the posh
hotel, he knew he wasn’t going to ask her if she wanted to take a room there
later. That would have to come from her, if she wanted it.

“This way,” he said. He took her to the bank
of elevators and pressed the button marked Top of the Tower. She noticed, and
looked at him curiously again.

The doors opened and when they walked
forward, the view opened up as the windows lined every wall.

“Ooo…,” she breathed, turning one way and
then the other. They were up in the midst of the towers of Midtown, some
buildings taller, others lower than them. To the south was the dip of the
skyline over Greenwich Village and Soho, with the SunTech tower glinting at the
edge. Then further down was another giant tower cluster in downtown, with the
Freedom Tower taller than the rest.

The lowering sun gleamed against the
windows, causing brilliant refractions here and there. As they sat down at
their table, Kali pointed out the tiny figures and cars passing by down below.

“Have you ever been to a place like this
before?” Hunter had to ask.

“No! It’s exactly what I hoped the city
would be like.” Kali was charged with excitement, eager and looking at
everything outside instead of the huge menu the waiter gave to each of them.
But as the waiter began to go through the specials, she turned to give him her
entire focus. Hunter loved that about her. Whatever she did, she did with all
of her being.

“Yum,” she murmured after the waiter
left. “That encrusted sea bass special sounds delicious.”

This was the point where he would
usually take over, guiding her choice or better yet, choosing for her. But that
wasn’t the game they were playing. This was a romantic date. So she picked out
her own meal, including a glass of White Zinfandel. He did tell the waiter what
she had decided on, since that was traditional date behavior.

“Have you been here before?” she asked.

“No, I usually prefer ethnic food.” He
gestured to the windows. “This place is for the view. You have to dine at least
once in your life looking at the skyline of the city.”

“Just once?” She looked around at the
predominantly business crowd in the restaurant, with a few obvious tourists and
dating couples sprinkled in. “I bet some of these people eat here all the
time.”

He shrugged. “If you’re rich enough, you
can eat out every night and not go to the same restaurant twice in the same
year.”

Their soup arrived, and he asked her
more questions about her childhood. She had lived in the same small college town
in upstate NY since she was five, the complete opposite of his constant moving
around. Her mother was a full professor at Jefferson College, a very expensive
school that wealthy parents sent their kids to. So even though she was a
townie, her mother’s association with the college gave her entry into that
world.

“Before my mom got tenure, it was hard
for us,” she said, “We were living in apartments in the area until I was nearly
twelve. I wanted a real house so badly that I remember trying to bargain with
my mom about what I would give up to get one. But my dad was mostly
volunteering with the local art center at that time, and it took years to save
enough. Then we finally got a nice brick house right in the village, just big
enough for the three of us. My friends who lived in the sorority mansions
called it ‘cute’. I lived at home all through college and while I freelanced
and volunteered for some green groups for a couple of years, until I moved here
to the city.”

He saw it all in a flash, her longing for
a better life, surrounded by rich kids as she grew into an adult but feeling
outside their world. It gave him hope that she would understand him.

“I know about wanting your own house,”
he said. “We moved around too much. It made school tough because we’d relearn
some things and never get to other things. It was also tough to have to make
friends over and over again, especially for my brothers when they were young.
The worst fights I got into were to protect them.”

“You got into fights?”

“All the time. There’s no getting around
it when you and your two younger brothers are the new kids. They would gang up
on us. So I figured out quick that you have to project an image of yourself
that’s bigger and badder than anyone else. That’s the way they do it in prisons.
The way you walk in can decide your fate.”

“That’s awful, comparing school to
prison.”

“It’s a fact. I’ve seen it from the
underside, believe me. There’s lots of bullying going on out there. It’s always
been going on. Anyone who’s different is picked on. We were different because
we dressed different and spoke different and didn’t know what all the other
kids were into in whatever podunk town we were in at that moment. I’m not going
to run away, so stand and fight is my only option. Haven’t you ever gotten into
a fight?”

“Not a physical fight. Arguments, sure.”

“That’s right, you don’t have brothers
or sisters. It’s hard not to fight sometimes when you’re a kid. My brothers
scuffled all the time, over the slightest thing. They still do it sometimes,
more in a joking way now.”

“You sound close to them.”

“Yes, my younger brother David
especially. I practically raised him. I had to put him in line a lot.” Hunter
tilted his head at her. “What about you? Did your parents ever punish you? Like
spank you?”

“Never. Oh, my gosh, I can’t even
imagine my mom doing that.”

“You do know a lot of kids are smacked,
don’t you? Or worse.”

Kali shrugged, uncomfortable. “Sure, I
had a friend once, when the middle school closed in the farm town down the
road, and a bunch of them started coming to Jefferson. She was from a religious
conservative family, so she always wore dresses. One day she said she was
wearing her older sister’s dress because she said her own wouldn’t cover the
marks her dad had left on her legs from hitting her with a belt. She pulled up
her dress and she had two big welts on the back of her thighs.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“I was shocked. I still remember it like
it was yesterday, what her shoes looked like and the dirt and grass playground.
And those long reddened bruises on her skin.”

“And that’s what you thought BDSM was.”
At her confused shrug, he added, “That’s child abuse, not kinky sex. Some
people who play do like to get bruises and welts, but they do it on their own
terms and only as much as they want.”

“But I remember the way she acted,
almost like she was proud to show us. Like it was important.”

“She made her dad lose control enough to
beat her. For some kids that’s the only power they have.”

Kali hesitated. “What about your mom and
dad?”

“My mom depended on me. She treated me
like an adult.” He grimaced. “My dad was more into neglect than abuse, but he
wasn’t above taking a swing at me if he thought I was being cocky, especially
when I was a teenager. But what kind of authority can a father have when he’s
never home? I had to be the man of the house because he wasn’t there.”

She was nodding. “I was friends with my
mom. She relied on me because we had to be sensible. My dad’s not sensible at
all. You’d think it was his choice to give me my name.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you. Is Kali
short for something?”
She laughed and covered her mouth. “I should make you guess.”

“Is it Kalista?” He figured that was the
most likely candidate.

“Nope.”

“Kaliope?” he guessed hopefully.

“No!”

“Well, I know you’re
caliente
but
I doubt your mom would name you that.”

“My real name is Kalico, spelled with a
K. My mom says there’s a reason for it, but I’ve never been able to get her to
tell me.”

“Really? A mystery… I love that. It’s
the perfect name for you, my little calico kitty-cat spelled with a K.”

They talked through the whole dinner,
taking their time over everything, including a shared dessert that she picked
out. This time it was a berry tart with whipped cream.

The only time Hunter slipped out of
romance-mode was at the end. He speared the last fat blueberry on his fork and
with teasing eyes, held it out to her. She knew immediately what he was doing.
She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue slightly, urging him on. He
popped the berry into her mouth and she bit into it.

“Yummy!” she said around the juice.

Maybe it was a romantic gesture, after
all. But feeding her felt like control to him, like power. Like he wanted to do
more.

He took her downstairs. As impatient as
he was, he wasn’t going to risk that frown again by suggesting they get a room.

The doorman got a cab for them and
opened the car door. She thanked him as she got inside, as sweet to him as she
was to everyone. Hunter thought she was like a crystal clear stream that hadn’t
been muddied, growing up sheltered and secure, surrounded by wealth and
education. Seeing only the possibilities instead of heartaches.

She was his tiny flower to pluck.

In the cab, he lifted her hand and began
to kiss her fingertips. She curled up against him, leaning her head on his
shoulder as he kissed the back of her hand. He went nice and slow, letting her
feel every touch, every tiny lick. Then he turned her hand over and nibbled on
the flesh of her palm, as she squirmed a bit and made soft sounds, not quite
moans, as he tickled and bit the sensitive areas.

From her palm, he moved to her wrist.
The flesh of her arm was sweet, firm and softer than velvet. He felt more than
heard her indrawn breath as he let his stubble scrape along her skin. Her head
was thrown back, her mouth opened with her quickening breath, as he buried his
mouth in the crook of her arm, the choicest part, where he would bite into her
flesh and feed from her if he was a vampire. He could feel the pulse of her
blood under his mouth, feeling how vulnerable she was.

It felt like they reached Kali’s
apartment in a flash. She looked similarly dazed. They were both riding a
euphoric high. And he was just kissing her arm! His dick was raging hard and
demanding attention, his balls clenching in anticipation. Like, telling him to
get inside her
now
.

Somehow he got through the mechanics of
paying for the cab and getting upstairs with her and behind a locked door. He
could hardly restrain himself, he wanted to throw her down and take her right
there, with all their clothes on. But he couldn’t lose control like that. He
did that the first time they had sex, and it had taken two days for him to get
a grip again.

He hooked a finger over the button in
the center of her jacket and pulled her closer. She took a step, looking up
expectantly. Waiting to see what he was going to do.

Flicking open the button, he pulled her
jacket down over her shoulders. She was wearing a silk shell underneath. He
turned her gently around and unzipped her skirt, pulling it down. He wanted to
get a good look at that ass.

Full and round, with deep curves,
nothing hidden by the panties she was wearing. Two perfect dimples on either
side at the top. What a butt! He could imagine it turning red as he smacked
her, gently at first, then harder and harder as she writhed in his lap against
his cock…