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Authors: Ashe Barker

Hardened (8 page)

BOOK: Hardened
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“I’ll give you a lift. I’ll drive you all the way back to bloody London if I have to but I want an answer. What’s this about, Molly? Why are you really here?”

I stare at him, feeling rather like a rabbit caught in headlamps. I want to be anywhere but here, but I can’t move. At last I find my voice and I blurt out what’s on my mind. “I wanted to see you. I keep thinking about what happened, that afternoon. I can’t get it out of my head, and it confuses me. I don’t understand.”

“I’m not surprised you keep thinking about it—a prison riot’s a memorable event. What exactly is it you don’t understand, Molly?”

“It’s not the riot. I meant I keep thinking about before that, just you and me, and that… that thing… that happened.”

“Okay. The spanking. Is that it?”

I nod, as heat prickles up my face.

“Right then. If you want me to help you, I need to know what the problem is.” His tone is gentler now, his gaze less intense.

I start to relax, just a little. “You’d help me? Really?”

“Why would I not?” He appears genuinely surprised at my question.

“Because of what I did. I got you into trouble, lost you privileges.”

He laughs out loud. “Molly, I think it’s fair to say I got myself into trouble that day. I did what I wanted to do, and later, when the riot started, I did what I had to do to get you out safely. None of it was your fault.”

I bristle somewhat. “I was in charge. I was an officer.”

“Molly, you were so not in charge.” His voice is low, and he leans forward to look at me under his eyebrows. “You did as you were told, and you did it beautifully.”

“What do you mean?” I detect some greater significance to his words, something I’m just not grasping.

“You were a submissive. I’m a dom, and I recognised the signs. I pressed a few of your buttons, and off you went.”

“You manipulated me? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes, that’s about it.”

“But, you were a prisoner. I was an officer, I took advantage of you. It was unprofessional.”

He flashes me his dazzling, lopsided grin. “It might have been unprofessional, I leave that for you to decide, but you most certainly didn’t take advantage of me.”

“My managers didn’t see it that way.”

“You told them?”

I shake my head. “Not all of it. Not the spanking bit. But they knew I was in your cell. There were cameras on the wing and they obviously went over all the footage with a fine-tooth comb to gather evidence about how the riot started, ringleaders, all that stuff. I couldn’t come up with a convincing explanation for what I was doing in your cell, and there were other questions too. For instance why were my clothes left behind in there? And why did I not come out when the furniture started flying and try to restore order?”

“You’d have been torn to bits.”

“I should have tried.”

“Fuck that. We did the right thing. We both survived, and none of the prisoners ended up on charges for murder or assault. And as for the clothes, we needed to make you as inconspicuous as possible, so you changed your officer’s shirt for prison issue.”

“You made me take off my bra too.”

He smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Ah, yes, perhaps not strictly necessary but I’ve never been one to pass up an opportunity. Did they pick up on that?”

I nod, mortified just by the memory of trying to explain everything that happened that afternoon to a far from sympathetic management enquiry. Time to change the subject.

“Were you hurt? In the fight with the other men, I mean. I saw you, before they hustled me away.”

“Bruised ribs and a broken finger, that’s all. Nothing much. I was shipped off to Strangeways jail in Manchester and put back on basic though, which pissed me off. I liked my radio and proper toilet and I had to do without all those luxuries for months. My parole board was postponed too. I served an extra year for my part in the riot.”

“But that wasn’t fair, you had no part in it.”

“Ah, Molly, such faith in the system. There’s not a lot happens in prisons that I’d really describe as fair, but it’s in the past now. I’ve moved on.” He smiles at me and picks up the cafatière. “More coffee?”

I nod, and wait in silence as he pours. He sips his coffee, black I note, and fixes me with that stern look again.

“So, we’ve established that you believe you were a crap officer, though I think you’re being rather hard on yourself. As screws go, I’d say you were decent enough. And we’ve dealt with Rachel. Now shall we discuss Mr. Whitkirk?”

“Who?”

“Your husband. I take it he isn’t with you?”

“Oh, no. No, we’re divorced. Well, nearly.”

He makes no comment on that, just watches me, waiting for more.

“It was a mistake. I got married because I felt I had to. I had to do something, after what happened between us. Andy was there and he just sort of bulldozed me into it.”

“You surprise me, Molly.” He doesn’t say it, but I sense I disappoint him too. That hurts.

“I surprised myself. But as you say, it’s in the past and I’ve moved on.”

“Have you? In that case, why are you back here, looking for me and wanting to discuss spanking? And why did you feel you had to do something?”

I draw in a deep breath and meet his gaze. His expression isn’t hostile or accusing, just interested. And determined.

“Okay. Andy always hated my job, and after the riot he never got his head around how I came to spend forty minutes locked in a cell with prisoner. I told him nothing happened but he didn’t believe me.” Jared’s lip quirks at that, and I shrug. I did what I did, and there’s no undoing it all now. “He was jealous, angry, insecure, and I was fragile in the aftermath of it all. I was weak, and I wanted some peace and quiet. It just seemed—easier. So I handed in my notice and married him.”

“I’m getting the impression this wasn’t a love match.”

“Not really, as it turns out. We were engaged though, and living together, so it was a natural step. Or it seemed like that at the time.”

“You had a live-in fiancé, and you still let me spank you?”

“I know. I just got caught up in it, and you were…” I hesitate, try to find the right word. “You were very compelling. I did as you told me. I wanted to, but it was wrong, I see that now. I saw it then, straight after. I felt guilty, and stupid, and very confused. I needed someone to take charge, and I thought Andy could perhaps replace you.”

“You were looking for a dom, even then?” He doesn’t even pretend not to understand.

I nod. “I didn’t know it at the time, but I do now. And I mistook Andy for that. It was unfair really, and not his fault. He was strict, and demanding. He told me what to do, and I obeyed him.”

“So, what happened?” He is leaning forward, his expression gentle. He reaches for me and cups my face in his hand, and it is only then that I realise tears are streaming down my face.

“He wasn’t kind. I think he was a bully, probably. He never spanked me, never laid a hand on me at all, but he was always angry, always critical of the things I did, anything I said.” I stop to gulp in a few much-needed breaths. “He used to call me names, really horrible things, and each time it felt like a punch in the gut. I’m glad he wasn’t into spanking, I would never have felt safe with him. He didn’t seem to like me that much, not really.”

“So you left him?”

I nod. “I was a coward about even that, though. I was too demoralised to tell him to his face, so one day I went to work and just didn’t go home. I took a room in a bed and breakfast and texted him to say I wasn’t coming back. And do you know what? He didn’t even care. He just replied to say ‘fair enough,’ and to let him have a forwarding address for his lawyer to be in touch.”

“Heartless bastard. It sounds to me as though you did the right thing.”

I manage a watery smile. In my heart I know I was right to end my marriage, but Jared is the first person to actually say it. He wipes away some of my tears with his thumb as I ramble on with my tale. “My family was incredulous when I told them what I’d done. My older sister couldn’t understand why I dumped a decent husband and a good provider like Andy. He hadn’t even been unfaithful, and we’d only just had a new driveway laid. My mother refused to let me move back in with her, and is still fond of reminding me that I made my bed and really should have laid in it.”

“A new driveway, eh? That is a big deal, I suppose…”

“Oh, shut up.” He frowns, so on impulse I grab his wrist and squeeze it. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“I know. Don’t worry. I won’t spank you for telling me to shut up.”

I gaze at him, my bottom clenching. I wish he would. I so wish he would. I really ought to leave before I blurt out something very unwise.

“So, what would it take then? To get you to spank me?”

Too late.

Chapter Four

 

 

She’s every bit as beguiling as I remember, but more vulnerable somehow, without the prison officer’s uniform to serve as her armour. She holds onto my wrist, her grip tightening as though she expects me to pull away and abandon her. It’s fair enough, I suppose. I did it before.

I should never have started that scene at Armley jail. It was wrong on so many levels, not least the fact that I was in no position to offer Molly the aftercare she needed. I knew it, I knew back then how our encounter was likely to end even without factoring a fucking prison riot into the equation, but I didn’t let that stop me. I was horny, I needed an outlet, and she was there.

I did her a huge disservice, and it’s not a mistake I’m about to repeat. I like to think I’m more in control now and less led by my dick. My dom instincts are if anything more powerful now than they were then, but so are my ethics, so woefully lacking in the past.

I shake my head. “I’d love to oblige you, Molly, but now’s neither the time, nor the place. We’ve both moved on since that day—”

She blushes crimson, and drops her hold on my wrist. “Of course. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I actually said that. I’ve embarrassed you, and myself. Look, I’ll just go.”

“No, Molly, I didn’t mean—”

“Just forget it. Please.” She reaches for her small bag again, and this time she manages to grab it and get to her feet. I stand too.

“Molly, don’t rush off. I’d like to continue this…”

“No, no, we’ve said all we need to say. Too much, probably. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to collect my luggage from reception and ask them to call me a taxi to the station, so …”

“I’ll drive you.” It seems to be the only way I’m going to be able to remain in her company for a little longer, hopefully enough time to drag my foot out of my mouth and explain what I really meant.

“That’s okay, really. I can get a cab.” She’s already heading for the double doors that lead into the hotel reception area. I catch up with her and manage to steer her past the desk and out through the main doors without manhandling her too much—certainly not enough to attract the attention of the concierge. I nod to him as we pass. “Mrs. Whitkirk has to be off. I wonder, would you be so kind as to bring her luggage, please? It’s with the receptionist.”

“Of course, sir.” The liveried attendant bustles off to do as I ask, leaving me to convince Molly of my good—well, not entirely bad—intentions.

“My car’s over here. I’ll drive you to the station.”

She’s still insisting she can make her own way even as I’m shepherding her across the acres of car parking in the direction of my dark grey Audi. The automatic locks open as we approach so I only have to open the passenger door and usher her inside. The matter is settled when the doorman arrives with her small suitcase and pops that in the boot. I slip him a crisp five-pound note and he leaves happy. I slide into the driver’s side and start the engine.

“Jared, I’m not sure… Please, let me out.”

She sounds scared. I curse inwardly and turn to face her. “The doors aren’t locked. I swear to you, I’m not about to abduct you or do you any harm. My days as an armed robber are behind me.”

Her eyebrows shoot up under her wavy fringe and she shakes her head. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. It’s just—I’m embarrassed, that’s all. I made a fool of myself, coming on to you like that and you were right to slap me down.”

I manage a wry chuckle at her choice of words. “Sweetheart, you of all people should know that if I decide to start slapping it won’t be in the public setting of hotel lounge. Like I said, there’s a time and a place. If you want to make time, I can provide the place.”

Her mouth makes a delightful little ‘o’ and she is speechless. I decide to treat her stunned silence as a point to me, and put the car in gear. There is no further protest from Molly as we exit the car park and join the Friday morning traffic.

The journey to the station is short, and neither of us speaks. I pull up in the short stay parking area and kill the engine. Molly makes no move to get out.

“What time’s your train?”

She fishes in her bag for her purse, and extracts a ticket. “Five past twelve. It gets into Kings Cross at three-fifteen this afternoon.”

“Do you have work later? Things to do… in London?”

She shakes her head. “Not really. Well, I do have work, when I get back, but I’m self-employed these days so I set my own hours. I make jewellery, and sell it on eBay.”

“Ah, a fellow artist then?”

“Hardly.” She lets out a derisive snort. “My stuff’s not in your league. I’m lucky to get ten quid for one of my pieces.”

“Do you make enough to live on?”

“On a good month. The rest of the time I turn down the heating and manage to get by.”

“If you live off what you earn that makes you a fellow artist. Wait here.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Wait.” I offer no more explanation, and get out of the car. At the station entrance I glance back. She is still seated exactly where I left her, her obedience gratifying and more than a little encouraging. A plan is starting to form in my mind, and I need her compliance if it’s to work.

Five minutes later I emerge from the station to find her still in the passenger seat, though looking somewhat anxious. I slide back into the car beside her.

“Give me your ticket, please.”

BOOK: Hardened
11.08Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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