Читать книгу Play Thing - Nicola Marsh - Страница 12

CHARLOTTE STEPPED INTO her aunt’s rented space in a cavernous warehouse and immediately wished she’d said no to helping out.

She wasn’t a prude, but seeing evidence of how much fun other people had in their sex lives always made her feel lacking somehow.

Her aunt’s online business, Dee’s Delights, did a roaring trade in all things sexy. From dildos to condoms, beads to fetish wear, her aunt dealt in it all. And if the lavish lifestyle her aunt enjoyed was any indication, many people were return customers.

Dee had told her about the business when Charlotte turned eighteen. Initially mortified that her aunt even knew what a cock ring was, Charlotte had studiously ignored anything to do with her aunt’s line of work. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-five, and never having had a long-term boyfriend, Charlotte wondered if having to handle all this stuff today was the universe’s way of telling her to lighten the hell up.

Thankfully, most of the raunchier stuff still resided in boxes, leaving her to pack only the vibrators, handcuffs and lingerie. She’d booked a courier for six tonight, meaning she had three hours to get every box filled and taped.

As she held up a pair of fluffy fuchsia handcuffs and smirked, she glimpsed a full-length mirror on the inside of a partially open wardrobe door. Probably a remnant of the last tenant—she couldn’t imagine her aunt wanting to try on any of her merchandise and didn’t want to—but the moment the idea of trying stuff on popped into her head she couldn’t dislodge it.

Her gaze fell on the lingerie. A turquoise chemise with lace overlay. A purple halter baby-doll. A wet-look corset. A pink body stocking. An ebony faux-leather bustier and thong.

Heat flushed her cheeks as she picked up the latter and held it up. Would her sedate life change if she wore stuff like this? Not that anybody would see it, but it might give her more confidence to shake things up a little. And she wanted that, craved that, with every cell in her lonely body.

Her flatmate Mak had jetted off to New York with her delectable guy Hudson last week, leaving her more alone than ever. Charlotte rarely dated, didn’t go out clubbing and preferred reading to sexting. On the odd occasion she dipped her toes into the dating pool, she went for boring guys like...her. Because ultimately, that was the kind of guy she could see herself marrying, having kids with and with whom she could build the kind of life she’d never had. Secure and happy, with a house she could grow old in, surrounded by a family of her own making.

She’d found the house but wasn’t having much luck with the guy.

Before she could second-guess her crazy decision she pulled the elastic off her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair. She took off her glasses, toed off her flat pumps, unbuttoned her white shirt and unzipped her grey pencil skirt. The warehouse air had a chill, making her skin pebble as she stripped off her sensible cotton underwear. Or maybe her goosebumps had more to do with the naughty thrill of slipping on the thong and bungling her way into the bustier with detachable lace collar.

When she’d done up the last hook, she took a deep breath and padded over to the wardrobe. Opened the door wider. Took a peek in the mirror. And gasped.

Her reflection didn’t shock her as much as the sight of a tall gorgeous guy in a suit staring at her with obvious appreciation.

‘Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?’ She spun around, covering her bits even though they weren’t really exposed.

Her handbag and cell were on the table laden with boxes, too far away to make an emergency call if she had to.

Damn, why had she been so stupid? She could’ve dressed up—or undressed in this case—in her flat where she’d be storing the boxes, not here where any pervert could wander in.

‘I could ask you the same question,’ the handsome stranger said, stepping inside the room and closing the door.

Uh-oh.

Being alone in an empty warehouse in raunchy underwear with a man, no matter how attractive, wasn’t good. She had more sense than this. She blamed her stupid impulsiveness on the realisation that her life was so empty she actually looked forward to verbally sparring with her irritating boss daily.

She’d wanted to cut loose for just one moment. To feel what other women felt wearing underwear like this. She hadn’t banked on having an audience for a foolish moment of bravado.

‘Get out,’ she yelled, sidling towards her clothes, fear making her heart pound in her ears.

‘I own this place so that’s not going to happen.’ His curious gaze fell on the table, where the vibrators and lingerie lay scattered. ‘You, on the other hand, need to tell me what you’re doing here and why my warehouse has turned into a sex shop.’

There was something vaguely familiar about his condescending tone and she hoped to God he wasn’t a client whose taxes she’d done.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, this isn’t a sex shop. My aunt rents this space, from you apparently, for her online business and she asked me to pack everything up so the new tenant can move in tomorrow.’ She gestured at the merchandise, belatedly realising she’d left herself exposed when a glimmer of interest lit his gaze. ‘So if you leave me to it, I’ll be out of here in a few hours.’

‘Well, aren’t you the little helper,’ he drawled, his gaze starting at her toes and working its way upward, a slow, leisurely perusal that made her nipples harden.

Her body’s reaction startled her. She’d never reacted to any man like this before, let alone a stranger. She read about this kind of thing in the romance novels she devoured by the boxful: the shy woman instantly attracted to the commanding man. It was a seduction game she fantasised about but knew could never happen to her. They called those novels fiction for a reason.

Yet here she was, standing in front of a guy she didn’t know, letting him look his fill. And enjoying it.

When he reached her eyes, what she saw made her knees wobble a tad. Desire. Passion. Lust. The kind of lust she’d never, ever seen in a man’s eyes when they looked at her.

‘Is trying on every outfit part of you helping out?’

His obvious desire discombobulated her and when he grinned the smug smile of a guy who knew exactly the effect he had on her, she made an impulsive decision to make him pay. She might be inexperienced and naive when it came to sparring with a man but that didn’t mean he could toy with her.

‘My old corsets and bustiers are worn out so I thought I’d replenish my stocks.’ A blush heated her cheeks at the blatant lie but once she started she couldn’t stop. ‘It’s a tough job looking this good for the men of Sydney but somebody’s gotta do it.’

He laughed, a rich, deep rumble that reached down into her chest and filled the lonely ache that resided there.

‘Does that include me, considering I’m a man and I’m in Sydney?’

Charlotte had never played games with any guy. She didn’t flirt and she didn’t elicit grand passion in them. But something about this stranger made her feel like she could do both.

‘Why, do you think I look good?’ She rested her hands on her hips in a blatant invitation for him to look his fill again, wondering what magic powers the lingerie held to make her this bold.

‘Honey, you have no idea.’ He stalked towards her and her newfound bravado fled. She edged towards the table, needing her cell within reach. But like an eternal klutz she stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t been by her side in a second. Strong hands steadied her, held her upright, made her yearn for things she had no right to crave.

Up close, he was even more startlingly good-looking: dark wavy hair, blue eyes the colour of Bondi on a clear day, chiselled jaw dusted with the faintest hint of stubble, the perfection marred by a small scar on the underside of his chin. And when he smiled again...oh, boy, she felt it all the way down to her toes and a few choice places in between.

She cleared her throat, trying to summon outrage at being held by a stranger while dressed like a stripper. ‘Let me go.’

But her command sounded soft and uncertain, falling flat if his amused smirk was any indication.

‘Do you want me to?’

He quirked an eyebrow, daring her to deny the invisible energy zapping between them.

She couldn’t explain it. She didn’t do casual sex; could count the number of times she’d actually had sex on one hand because it had been unremarkable. She didn’t believe in instant attraction or one-night stands. Or having vertical sex with a hot stranger in a warehouse.

This wasn’t her.

But what if it could be?

For a moment, she wondered where that voice had come from. Her conscience didn’t encourage her to go wild. Quite the opposite, in fact.

And where had it got her? Alone and craving a relationship.

What if she did something so out of character that she could never go back to the person she was? Would that give her the kick-start she needed to make the life she wanted happen instead of waiting for it to happen to her?

‘I don’t know you... I mean, I’m not good at this...and I don’t usually do this kind of thing with strangers—’

He kissed her. His lips were commanding, his skill obvious in the way he exacted the right amount of pressure—not too hard, not too soft...

A kiss to her meant a meshing of lips, the occasional tongue, a bit messy and nothing to rave about.

What this guy could do with his tongue...the moment it invaded her mouth and touched hers she couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but hold onto his lapels and press against him, desperate for contact.

His relentless assault on her lips made her tremble with longing. He changed the pressure, he nipped her bottom lip so hard it bordered on painful, and then he soothed it with a seductive sweep of his tongue.

A fleeting thought pierced her passion haze: could a woman orgasm from a kiss? Because she throbbed so startlingly from his mouth on hers that it had to be scientifically possible.

His fingers threaded through her hair, grazing her scalp, and she moaned at the tingling sensation it elicited. He took it as a sign of encouragement, spinning her around and hoisting her onto the table. She gasped at the cold plastic against her bare butt and he broke their kiss to stare at her in wide-eyed wonder.

‘I don’t do this. Sex with a stranger.’

‘Me either,’ she said, breathless and slightly husky. Wishing he hadn’t stopped. Wishing she had the guts to articulate how badly she wanted him to continue.

His hungry gaze locked on her, daring her to follow through on what they’d started. ‘So what do you want to do?’

He’d given her an out.

She should take it.

Her entire life revolved around rational, well-considered decisions. Weighing up facts. Making safe choices.

Where had it got her?

Single and not loving it. Her sex life was lived vicariously through erotic romance novels, craving an elusive something that would jolt her staid life; something like this crazy, exciting interlude to give her confidence a boost and ensure she could follow through on finding her perfect guy.

Staring into this guy’s amazing blue eyes, she wondered if maybe karma had delivered exactly what she needed.

Her throat tightened but she had to get the words out, had to take a chance for once. ‘I want to do this.’

Before her common sense kicked in, she placed her hand on his abs. Low enough to be suggestive. High enough he could end this now and walk away if he wanted to.

His low groan raised the fine hairs on her arms as he nudged her knees apart, stepped between them and slid his hands under her butt, sliding her towards him.

She gasped as he ground against her, hard and insistent, while his hands palmed her breasts. The softest whimper filled the air and through a hazy fog of want, she realised it had come from her.

She wrapped her legs around him and he responded by rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making her go a little crazy. She writhed against him, wanting more. He plucked at her nipples, sending a sizzle to her core.

If his touch felt so good with the stupid faux leather as a barrier, what would it feel like to be naked? She wanted to find out but he had other ideas.

‘Lie back,’ he said, placing a palm between her breasts and gently pushing. ‘Prop on your elbows so I can see you.’

The guys Charlotte had been with didn’t issue orders. They got the basics done without a word.

She liked being told what to do. Liked the gleam in his eyes when she did exactly as he wanted. She eased back until she rested on her elbows, uncertainty making her shiver as he hooked his thumbs under the elastic of the thong. He tugged gently, lowering it, leaving her naked and vulnerable.

She’d never felt so exposed. But her protest died on her lips as he locked gazes with her at the same time he slid a finger inside her.

Reverence widened his eyes, as if she’d bestowed a great gift on him, and her flutters of worry faded beneath his ministrations.

Another finger slipped inside her, rhythmically sliding in and out as his thumb circled her clitoris. Slow. Steady. He was driving her insane with the feel of him and the way he met her gaze. Uncompromising. Confident in his ability to satisfy her. Seeing her, really seeing her.

‘You are so frigging beautiful,’ he muttered, his tone barely above a growl, and she gritted her teeth to stop from groaning out loud as the pleasure built. She tensed her muscles and began spiralling out of control. She blanked her mind until all she could focus on was him. His touch. His fingers. His stare.

Her orgasm crashed over her, so strong, so unexpected, wiping her out. She couldn’t hold back, her yell loud and triumphant.

She expected to be swamped with mortification the second her body stopped pulsating. But nothing happened, other than a relentless yearning to do it all again.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, sounding oddly formal.

‘You’re welcome.’ His smile widened as he reached down and unzipped. ‘If you want, there’s more where that came from.’

Charlotte’s jaw dropped open. She’d heard of the fabled internal orgasm but equated it to other fanciful, elusive things, like unicorns and fairies.

Apparently her mystery man believed in all things mystical and she watched in unabashed fascination as he unsnapped his trousers and pushed them down along with his jocks.

Showing her proof of exactly why he could be so confident.

Wowza. She might not have seen many erect penises but the ones she had made this one look like a giant. With a wicked-looking head.

She smiled at her joke and he quirked an eyebrow.

‘It doesn’t bode well that you take one look at me and want to laugh.’

A killer sense of humour and a big dick. She’d hit the jackpot. Ding, ding, ding.

‘I’m out of my comfort zone here. Can’t you give a girl a break?’

‘Thought I already had.’ He winked and she laughed, surprised at how easy this felt.

The few other times she’d had sex had been awkward, without a hint of banter. She liked this, liked feeling like a wanton goddess splayed before a sex god.

‘This is crazy. You know that, right?’

He nodded, fishing a condom from his wallet and rolling it on with an expertise that indicated he’d done it many times before. ‘Crazy is good.’

He set about proving it, sliding into her with a force that made her gasp. He grabbed her butt, lifting it slightly so he could drive into her on an angle that ensured he hit that fabled sweet spot. He thrust into her over and over with a relentless force that had her surging up, reaching for him.

She held onto his shoulders as he half lifted her off the table, his penetration deeper, his rhythm faster. The pleasure bordered on pain and she bit his shoulder as she came again, stunned by the ferocity of it.

He tensed and groaned a second later, his fingers digging into her butt so hard she might not be able to sit for a week. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything other than this euphoria making her feel as if she could do anything.

He held her for what seemed like an eternity before gently lowering her to the table and withdrawing. She felt the loss immediately. Craved more. Mentally chastised herself for being stupid.

He turned away, giving her time to put her clothes on while he took care of business. She didn’t like seeing his back. Not when their fronts had connected so well.

Remorse, swift and stabbing, flooded her.

What the hell had she been thinking, having sex with a stranger?

However, when he turned back to her, his expression open, his smile satisfied, she couldn’t be sorry.

‘You were incredible.’ He cupped her face between his hands and brushed a soft kiss across her lips.

To Charlotte’s horror, the burn of impending tears stung her eyes and she blinked, forcing a smile as she pushed him away.

‘So were you,’ she said, sounding flippant, while inside a little part of her crumbled at his unexpected tenderness. ‘But I really need to get this tidied up now.’

It was a curt dismissal he didn’t deserve but she had to get him out of here before she cried.

‘Sure, I hear the landlord is a slavedriver.’ He seemed completely unfazed by her rudeness but he stared at her with a newfound intensity that bordered on uncomfortable. ‘Maybe I’ll see you around?’

‘Maybe,’ she ground out, refraining from adding, ‘like never.’

Scorching sex with a stranger hadn’t been on her to-do list today but now that it had happened...did she feel different? More confident? More womanly? Just more?

She had no freaking idea because in seizing the moment, she’d moved so far out of her comfort zone she’d ended up on another planet, one where good girls did bad things and didn’t regret it. Especially when that bad thing had been oh, so good.

But no matter how incredible her momentary lapse had been, it couldn’t happen again. She needed to move on and refocus on the priorities in her life. Like finding a genuine guy who’d want more than a quickie on a table in the back room of a warehouse.

He paused at the door, as if he wanted to say something. Ask for her phone number? Ask her out to dinner? Her inner romantic yearned for some gesture to indicate that this hadn’t been just sex to him.

She should have been relieved when he half shrugged and held up a hand in farewell before closing the door behind him.

She wasn’t. All she could think was that she’d found the bad boy she’d been craving but had let him go far too easily.