Playing For Her Heart - Megan Erickson Page 0,31
thrown the pot away to hide the evidence rather than let Sydney see what he’d done. She’d never stop chastising him.
Grant had even changed the sheets, even though he wasn’t sure he and Chloe would actually make it into bed. He had fantasized all day about the couch and the kitchen table. He was too old to fuck on the stairs but the up against the wall in the hallway was a real possibility. Or maybe on the sink in the bathroom.
Damn, he was getting hard just thinking about it. He downed the rest of his wine and dropped his glass in the sink, wondering if Chloe would be on time. Sydney was sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight, so Grant had the house to himself. He hoped Chloe came. It would suck if she stood him up, but he couldn’t get enough of her. He thought about her all week to the point he was incredibly distracted at work. He felt a weird possessiveness over her, too, which was new for him. This was just sex, and only that. Hell, they didn’t even call each other by their names. But was she doing this with other men? Was it just a fun game for her?
He pushed the thought aside. The hottest girl he’d ever been with wanted to sleep with him. Repeatedly. With role-playing kink. Why was he analyzing this shit?
His doorbell rang and he padded toward it in bare feet, the hem of his jeans brushing the floor. He rubbed his clammy hands on his pants. He rarely brought women here. And especially women he didn’t even fuck as himself. Which was weird but oh so very hot.
He peered through the peephole. Chloe was standing on the front porch, large sunglasses over her eyes—even though it was nighttime—and wearing a belted trench coat.
When he opened the door, he gazed down to her bare legs and sky-high black heels.
“Mr. Osprey?” she asked, her lips a bright cherry red.
He leaned on the door and raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”
Her pink tongue slipped out, wetting her bottom lip. “My handler said you have hired my services for the night. I only accept cash.”
He nearly swallowed his tongue. So she wanted to play some Pretty Woman role, huh? He went from kinda hard to full mast.
“We agreed on two grand and I get you until two in the morning.” He deliberately leered. “All of you. Every inch of you. However I want you. Suit you, Princess?”
The lapels of her trench coat quivered. “Suits me.”
“Great.” He stepped back and gestured inside. “Come in, please.”
She brushed past him and he smelled strawberries. He shut and locked the door, then turned around to face Chloe.
She’d taken her sunglasses off and her hands were on her untied belt. In one practiced move, she flung open the edges of the coat and rolled her shoulders so the khaki material fluttered to the ground at her feet.
Grant had to shoot out a hand to brace himself on the wall because he suddenly had vertigo.
The physical parts of Chloe he loved the most were encased in lavender lace—a bra that didn’t cover much, because he could see her hardened nipples poking through.
Her thong didn’t cover much except for a small triangle scrap, hiding her pussy—which he knew she shaved bare—from his view.
Jesus, all that skin, that delicious lace, all for him.
She watched him with those green eyes, a sexy smirk to her mouth. She slowly twisted, so that her ankles were crossed, and showed him her back. She looked at him through her lashes over her shoulder. Only a string ran along the top of her ass and between her crease.
He was hard in his jeans, ridiculously so, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Hadn’t yet taken that mouth or plunged his fingers in that tight heat. He was going to do all of that and then some.
He stepped toward her. “Hands on the wall. Ass out.”
Her breath left her in a rush and she complied immediately, laying her hands—tipped with red nails—on the wall, then arched her back.
He raised a hand, bringing his palm down first on one cheek, then the other, loving the sound of flesh smacking flesh, smiling at the pink skin he left behind.
She moaned and he reached for the string that covered her pussy, then tugged it aside roughly. He palmed her, sliding a middle finger between her folds.
As predicted, she was soaked already.
“Good girl,” he murmured, pulling her thong off and tossing