MissBEHAVED

Chapter Ten

Dixon

After checking the chicken, I found a pot, filled it with water, and set it on the stove over a high flame to boil. I tried not to look up at the inconspicuous cameras mounted in the middle of the room, where the ceiling met the wall, but it was hard now that I knew they were there. Had Mellie not told me, I probably wouldn’t have noticed them for quite some time.

While I understood, and agreed with, the need for security cameras, knowing her father could be watching me right at this moment made me uncomfortable. I half-expected him to call Mellie to find out who the strange man in her kitchen was, and where the hell was she?

Shrugging off my unease, I sliced a loaf of Italian bread and kept an eye on the time. I could see Mellie through the wide doorway into the great room and she was following my instructions beautifully. Not fidgeting, keeping her arms in front of her, her bare bottom on display for me to admire. And what an ass it was.

Corner time was something I hadn’t tried before, a suggestion from my friend, Pete, when we’d gone out for beers last night. I’d been so frustrated with Mellie, I’d called him on my way back to Walker’s Grove and asked him to meet me at The Town Line for a drink and to talk.

Pete was more experienced with these kinds of things than me, having married his high school sweetheart a year after graduation. They were one of the most stable, loving couples I’d ever met, and Pete was firmly but gently in control of their relationship. His advice made me realize I couldn’t punish Mellie for breaking a rule I hadn’t discussed with her and making sure she knew my expectations should be my first priority. He’d given me quite a few tips for dealing with a smart, independent woman without diminishing those qualities or making her feel bad about herself. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

A splash of water brought me out of my thoughts, and I looked over to find the water boiling. I turned down the burner and dumped half a box of penne in, gave it a quick stir, and went to go release my girl from her punishment.

She stiffened slightly as I approached, her pink, heart-shaped ass clenching, drawing my attention. Mellie wasn’t an overly thin woman. She had plenty of curves for me to hold on to when the time came. I hoped that would be sooner rather than later, but I was prepared to wait until she was ready. The punishments I’d given her were unbelievably intimate, so if she wanted to get used to this level of trust before sleeping together, I understood.

“Corner time is over, sweetheart,” I said. “Go ahead and fix your pants and come sit in the kitchen with me while I finish dinner.”

She blushed and immediately bent over and pulled up her panties. I decided to give her a minute to compose herself and returned to the kitchen to check the pasta.

She’d disappeared from my view when I turned around from the stove, and I hoped she hadn’t gone to hide. Then I heard the door to the half bath open and she entered the kitchen, her face still slightly pink.

I waited until she slid onto a stool before finishing the punishment. Even though the physical part was over, I’d asked her question and I expected an answer. Hopefully she’d spent her time in the corner productively, otherwise she’d be returning.

“Did you figure out a way to make sure the door to the shop is locked at closing time every night?”

She fidgeted for a second, getting situated on the stool. Even though her punishment wasn’t very long, I made every spank count, so she couldn’t be very comfortable.

“I’m going to tape a reminder sign next to the register, so I’ll see it when I’m pulling out the cash drawer. And I’m going to set an alarm on my phone to go off five minutes after closing time every night.” Her tone was decisive but still submissive, like she was confident in her plan but acknowledged that she needed my approval. Exactly what I wanted.

“That sounds good,” I replied. “But, Mellie, if this happens again, now that we’ve gone over the rules and decided on a plan to prevent it, the punishment you just received will feel like a massage.”

She looked up at me, confusion and anger warring in her eyes. “I don’t know how I should feel about this. Part of me wants to tell you to get out, that I don’t need your rules, and am not taking your punishments. Another part of me likes that you want to keep me safe and knows the rules are good for me. I feel like I’m torn between what I should do and what I want to do.”

I set down the knife and came around the island to where she sat. Spinning her stool so she faced me, I pulled her into my arms.

“I know this is very different from the way you grew up, but there’s nothing wrong with having a relationship like this. So if that’s what’s bothering you, ignore it. I want you to follow what’s in your heart and do what you really want. I promise that I’m not going to change the rules on you without talking to you, that I’ll always listen and be fair, and that I’ll never punish you more than you can handle or deserve. I’m not trying to be an asshole or play games. I only want you to be safe, be respectful, and be truthful, and I’ll do the same for you. That’s it.”

She turned this over in her mind while searching my eyes, probably for any hint I was lying, but she wouldn’t find it. I meant every word I said. At the same time, I wouldn’t be giving up without a fight if she tried to end our relationship. I’d been looking for her for too long to let go without exhausting every chance to make us work.

She took a deep breath, leaned into me, and shuddered against my chest. I couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a hug goodbye or a capitulation.

“I know,” she finally said, her words muffled by my sweater. “You proved that tonight.”

We stood silently for several minutes until her stomach growled.

“Let’s get you fed. Where do you want to sit?”

“The breakfast nook. The dining room table is too big for two people.” She stood and gathered plates and utensils to set the table, talking as she moved around the kitchen. “If my family is here, we’ll use it, but I prefer the island or the nook for myself, and even when I have my friends over.”

While Mellie grabbed the bread and butter, I took the chicken out of the oven and brought it to the table, then tossed the pasta with a pre-made pesto sauce I bought at the store.

“This looks delicious,” she said after we sat down. “Thank you for cooking, even though you were upset with me.”

“I was upset with your actions, Melody, not with you,” I said slowly and sternly, so she would pay attention and take in what I was saying. “I knew we’d have a chat and clear the air and then have a nice dinner. That’s the way it will always work. Do you understand me?”

Her eyes widened at my tone as she nodded, and I hoped she truly knew I meant what I said. Then she grinned.

“A chat, huh? Is that what we’re going to call it?”

“Yes. If you break one of the rules, we will always have a chat first, followed by whatever else needs to happen to make sure you don’t do it again.” I pinned her with a stern look, then softened it with a grin. “Hopefully we won’t have too many chats, but it will happen again, I’m sure.”

She took a bite and chewed slowly, obviously thinking hard about something. I dug into my food, letting her get her thoughts straight without pressure from me. This was a lot for someone who didn’t grow up with rules and punishments, and at this point, I was counting it as a win that she hadn’t thrown me out. We were moving faster than I’d planned, but it all felt right. To me, at least.

“Can we go over the rules again?” she finally asked, setting down her fork to take a drink of water before continuing. “I want to be sure I understand what you’re expecting and that I agree.”

My gut clenched slightly at her request, but I reminded myself that clarity could only help.

“The first one is to be safe.”

“But what does that mean?” she pressed. “It’s so open ended I’m worried I’ll do something that I think is fine, but you’ll think is breaking the rule.”

She chewed on her thumb as she looked at me, waiting for an answer.

“It means obey all laws, so no texting while driving, or forgetting your seatbelt, and definitely no drinking and driving. It also means taking reasonable steps to keep yourself safe, like locking doors and not walking around alone late at night. But if we have a difference of opinion on something you did, we’ll always talk about it. I might not agree with your interpretation, but I’ll hear you out.”

She looked slightly relieved at my explanation, but not completely. “And the second rule, about being respectful, does that mean I can’t joke around with you? Playfully tease you or stick out my tongue? I don’t want to not be able to have fun with you.”

“As long as you’re joking and not being mean, it’s fine. I’m not going to be the fun police or expect a meek and silent woman. I like that you’re funny and witty, and I don’t want that to stop.”

She nodded. “Okay. And the lying rule I think I understand. I don’t like liars either.”

“The only thing I’ll add is that lies of omission also count. So if you get a ticket for texting while driving and don’t tell me about it to avoid a punishment, I would consider that a lie.” Her face scrunched up at that.

“So I have to tell you everything I do? That feels like you’re treating me like a child.”

“No, not everything you do. But if you do something that breaks a rule? Yes, I expect you to tell me.”

“I have to tell on myself?” she asked, somewhat impertinently. Then she shoved a forkful of pasta in her mouth, like she needed to stop herself from saying anything more.

“Think of it as self-reporting to get ahead of it, because if I found out that you kept something from me, that’s two punishments.” I also took a bite and considered my next words before I spoke, deciding if I wanted to take another step down this road tonight. But I didn’t want to not say something then spring it on her later. “I’m sure you already know this, but your tone is bordering on disrespectful, so I’m going to give you a warning. It’s perfectly okay to ask these questions and have this discussion, but please don’t get an attitude or be rude when we’re talking.”

She opened her mouth, then closed in quickly, took another bite and chewed it even slower than the last one.

I kept eating, as did she, but my food was turning into a hard lump with every minute that passed. A part of me wanted to back down and tell her we’d ease into things, but I remembered Pete’s advice to be consistent right from the beginning. I swallowed my unease along with my dinner and waited for her to say something.

It took another two minutes before she cleared her throat, making me glance up from my plate to find her watching me.

“I’m sorry I was snippy. I’ll try not to let it happen again, but my mouth is my biggest issue when I’m nervous or upset. I warned you.”

“And I told you I’d deal with it, but you probably won’t enjoy my methods.”