Role Play(Plaything #4)(25)

His cock pushed in a few inches, staying out just far enough to make my fingers curl around the sheets in frustration. I pushed my ass higher, letting him know I wanted more of him. He responded with a sweetly stinging slap to my ass.

I gasped and pulled instinctively forward. His erection pulled free, along with his magical fingers. I nearly collapsed in disappointment.

“Do you want this or not, darlin’? A little begging will make my cock that much harder for you.”

I lifted my bottom higher again and spread my thighs wider. “Yes, please, I want this.”

He pressed the tip of his cock tauntingly against my pussy again, and his hand returned to my clit.

“Want what?”

“You,” I nearly screamed it out. “I want you to fuck me. Please!”

His free hand gripped my hip, and he held me steady as he slid deep inside of me. Tears of release clouded my eyes as our bodies rocked against each other in perfect rhythm. It seemed just when I couldn’t take him in any farther, he thrust deeper, reaching my very core. And, all the while, he deftly strummed my clit, creating a symphony of sensations I’d never felt before.

My arms could barely support my body, and my thighs shook with fatigue as I moved back to meet him each time. A cry shot from my mouth as my pussy tightened around him.

“That’s it, beautiful, come hard for me.” His deeply erotic command rained down on my naked back, taking me over the edge.

“Yes! Grayson, yes!” My body convulsed with the delights of a perfectly breathtaking orgasm. All the while, he filled my body with even more tender sensations as he pumped himself into me. Each time he met my pussy with more vigor and each time my body responded with another wave of pleasure.

His movements quickened. He pulled his hand free from between my legs and held my hips sternly in place. The headboard tapped the wall, and the bed creaked in protest as he slammed into me again and again. His callused fingertips dug into my flesh. A deep groan rolled up from his chest as he came.

He lowered himself over me, swept me against him, and we collapsed down onto the mattress in a perfect spoon. We pulled the covers up over us. Completely satiated from the long day and evening’s activities, and the secure warmth of his arms, I fell fast asleep.





Chapter Nine





A knock on the door was followed by a heavenly fragrance of something I couldn’t quite discern, but I was fairly certain it had originated with a fresh bakery item and hot coffee.

I pulled the soft, downy quilt up higher over my shoulders, and as I moved the blanket, another scent, just as heavenly but for entirely different reasons wafted off the sheets. I reached behind me, but there was only an empty pillow.

I sat up quickly and glanced around the room. The nightie and satin robe had been hung neatly over the end rail on the bed, but there was no towel or any other signs of Grayson. The tenderness between my legs made it clear that I hadn’t just imagined the whole thing or the man.

Another knock startled me out of my haze. The knock was gentle and feminine. “Yes,” I called. “Is that you, Coco?” I pulled the cover up over my naked breasts. “Come on in.”

The door opened and Coco poked her head around the edge of it. The age lines had disappeared completely, and she looked fresh-faced enough to do a face cream commercial. She’d replaced the head scarf with a wide-brimmed straw hat. Her hands were full with a silver platter.

“I thought since you were sleeping late, I’d bring up some coffee.” She placed the tray down on the nightstand. “I made some cranberry scones and freshly churned butter. Thought you might like it with your coffee.”

“They smell and look delicious.” I glanced across the bed toward the robe. Again, as if she could read my thoughts, Coco picked it up and handed it to me.

I pulled it on while she poured the coffee from a small silver pot. The rich scent of it drifted toward me.

I looked around the room. “There’s no clock in here. What time is it?”

She handed me the cup. She’d added just the right amount of cream, even though I hadn’t mentioned to her how I took my coffee.

“It’s ten o’clock.” Coco pointed up to her hat. “I’ve been out planting roses.”

I nearly spilled the coffee. “Ten o’clock? I haven’t slept that late since I was a teenager. That wine must have really done a number on me.”

Her sparkling, all-knowing gaze swept across the other side of the bed where a deep impression on the pillow left no doubt that someone else had been sleeping next to me. Her mouth tilted and some of those phantom, wizened wrinkles appeared.

I blushed again for what seemed like the millionth time since I’d arrived. Of course, I wasn’t completely sure I’d ever arrived. It seemed more that my car had been pulled in the direction of the Silk Stocking Inn.

Coco politely changed the subject. “It’s a perfect day to be outdoors.”

“Suppose I should drag myself out of this comfy bed then.” My eyes drifted shut as I sipped the coffee. “That is delicious.” I opened my eyes. “I really needed this. I’ll be up and out of here soon. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and I really need to get back home.”

Coco spooned a dollop of creamy butter on top of the scone. It melted over the sides, making sure to fill in all the nooks and crannies on its buttery descent. She handed me the plate. “What’s the rush, Jessi? It’s Saturday. No work today. This room is vacant for the rest of the weekend.”

A hammering sound on the roof startled me.

Coco glanced up toward the ceiling as if it was see through. “Grayson is working on this side of the house. He got a rather late start this morning.” She winked at me. The first blush hadn’t cooled yet, and something told me it was going to stick around all morning.

“I’ll let you finish breakfast. There’s a lovely walking path around the house. Lots of birds and butterflies.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful, but I only have my work clothes and shoes. And I really should head home.”

“I’ve left some clothes that I think will fit you on the dresser.”

My eyes shot toward the mahogany dresser. Clothes were stacked on top and a pair of women’s hiking boots sat on the floor in front of it. “How did you—”

She raised a smooth dark brow at me, as if she was waiting for me to finish the question. I knew it would only result in an even more confusing answer.

I shook my head. “Never mind. I might stay for a walk, but then I’ll be heading home.”

“That’s fine, Jessi.” She walked out without another word.

I took a bite of the melt in your mouth scone. Butter dripped down my chin, and I reached for the napkin on the tray. It was made of pure white linen. Someone had embroidered pink lettering on it. It was too beautiful to use on a greasy chin. I wiped the butter with my fingers and looked down at the linen napkin on my palm and read the pink letters. “Silk Stocking Inn.” I could feel embroidered lettering on the back as well. I turned it over and read the stitching. “Consider yourself matched.”





Chapter Ten





I’d brushed the napkin sentiment off as a gimmick, a form of subliminal advertising. Obviously Coco fancied herself a matchmaker and her lovely inn as a place to meet the perfect man. That was fine, but I was hardly convinced that my future happiness was now within reach and dressed in faded flannel, jeans and steel-toed boots. Even if he was incredible in bed. There was that damn school girl blush again.

I finished buttoning the cotton blouse. It fit perfectly as did the khaki shorts and hiking boots. Coco had even left a new pair of panties with the clothes. If there was a contest for hostess of the year, I knew who I’d check off as my top choice. My own mom had nothing on the cupcake baking wonder downstairs.

I picked up the breakfast tray, now merely a platter for the few leftover scone crumbs, and headed out the door. I passed the spot in the hall where Grayson had trapped me between his wet, hard body and the wall. Instantly, I felt a tickle of heat swirl through me. It had been the most sensual evening of my life. I was sure every other night with a man would pale in comparison. That grim conclusion left me feeling a little empty.

I could hear the continual activity on the roof, the occasional beat of a determined hammer and the buzz of a table saw, which helped squelch the butterflies I’d been feeling about running into the man again. After all, he’d seen every intimate inch of me. I’d exposed myself to him and let him take full advantage of me. The idea of seeing him sent a mix of emotions through me. Anxiety laced with dread and thrill was probably the most concise way to describe it. Although that was hardly concise at all.

Coco was rolling out pie dough as I carried the empty tray into her spacious kitchen. “Just put it in the sink.”

“Do you need some help?” I asked. “It’s been awhile since I baked pie, but when I was younger, I always loved helping my grandmother.” I walked over to the kitchen work island where Coco was rolling dough. Cubes of butter were piled up next to a stack of cinnamon sticks and a basket of apples. I picked up a green apple and the peeler. “Peeling was my job.”

“Absolutely.”

I slid the peeler over the fruit. “Thank you for the clothes. I will have them cleaned and mail them back to you once I get home.”