Play Thing. Nicola Marsh

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.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      ALEX HAD DONE something bad.

      The kind of bad that could get him a lifetime membership to hell alongside the naughty guy with horns and a pitchfork, ensuring he danced on hot coals for all eternity.

      On his first day back in Sydney, he’d envisaged having a quiet afternoon inspecting his property investments.

      He hadn’t expected to have sex with the woman he’d earmarked to take The Number Makers into the future.

      Even now, hunkered behind a solid wooden door in a rather ugly office, he couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to have sex with Charlotte Baxter.

      Not that he’d recognised her until it was too late, with her hair down, no glasses and wearing the kind of lingerie to fuel wet dreams.

      Because the woman he’d researched online once he’d taken this job looked nothing like the woman he’d had scorching sex with in that warehouse.

      The headshot on The Number Makers website depicted a prim woman wearing a bland white blouse, minimal make-up, steel-rimmed glasses and a dorky headband, with her hair pulled tight in a high ponytail.

      Never in his wildest dreams had he expected Charlotte to be wearing leather underwear and looking nothing like her picture when they first met.

      There’d