Deliciously Sinful

by Lilli Feisty

  And those were all bad, bad things.

  Nick was trouble. She didn’t have time in her life for anything or anyone else. And now there was this Sherry person to worry about.

  Grunting, Phoebe turned onto her side. Surprisingly, her bottom was still sore, but it only reminded her of what Nick had done to her. The red marks on her ass felt as if they were some sign of ownership. A branding.

  And she shouldn’t like it. Not one bit.

  But she did. She liked it so much that when she thought about the experience, her center began to throb and she could feel her own juices coating the lips of her sex.

  How could she be aroused when she’d had Nick’s cock inside her only hours ago?

  Nick’s cock. Damn, she never should have thought about that. Because it only made her body thrum with lust. Her sex pulsed. Her breasts ached for his touch.

  Throwing the pillow aside, she leaned over, opened the drawer to her nightstand, and pulled out her vibrator.

  The irony didn’t escape her. For quite some time, her vibrator had been her battery-operated boyfriend. Now she’d finally gotten laid, and she was still using her little toy just hours after the fact.

  Not that her vibrator was very little.

  She ran her hand over the phallic-shaped piece. It was simple, really. Just a lengthy pink piece of plastic. But there was a dial on the bottom, and now she twisted it so the thing began to softly vibrate in her hand.

  Reaching under her nightgown, she pressed the pulsing tip to her clit. Already she was so sensitive, just from thinking about Nick. She gasped as the instrument beat at her sensitive bud. She spread her legs wide and closed her eyes.

  “Nick.” She barely heard the word escape her mouth. But in the dark, with the vibrator pressed against her wet sex, she couldn’t help but think about him. Wished it were him between her legs. Wished it were his tongue licking that sensitive, aching part of her body.

  “Yes.” Through the fabric of her nightgown, she took her own nipple between her fingers and pinched. The sharp bite of pain caused her hips to buck against the vibrator, and she cried out again.

  She needed more. She turned up the power of the vibrator and pressed it against her pussy. She held it there, letting it strike a consistent, constant beat against her clit.

  Nick. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to feel him, his skin on hers. She wanted to suck his cock and feel him come in her mouth…

  “God!” As she masturbated, the fantasy of sucking Nick’s cock was so real. She licked her lips; her mouth was dry from her deep breathing. She wanted him so badly, so badly…

  The climax hit her. With her eyes closed and her legs spread, she froze. Holding the vibrator hard against her pussy, she let the shivers rake over her. Her sex contracted in tiny pulses until finally she stilled.

  After she’d come down, her skin was sensitive against the vibrator, and she turned it off. Without the soft buzz of the vibrator, the room was silent, and her thoughts returned to Nick.

  Didn’t they always?

  Her orgasm had been acceptable, but compared to the reality of coming with Nick inside her, the climax was superficial. She needed him.

  Damn it. She’d been walking a fine line ever since he’d pulled into town in his obnoxious car. She wanted him, but she knew it was wrong. Yet she couldn’t stay away…

  Turning onto her side, her thoughts returned once again to Sherry’s words. Phoebe was impressed with how he was running the kitchen, even if he could be a total pain in the butt. She was beginning to depend on him.

  Which was also dangerous. Phoebe could depend on her family. That was it. And her goal in life was to keep her family harmonious. Depending on Nick for anything was a direct threat to that, and she had to do whatever it took to keep everyone in her family happy.

  She wasn’t about to fuck it up just because she thought she might be developing feelings for Nick.

  Flipping onto her back, she started to meditate. Breathing slowly, she focused on her breathing and repeated the word harmony every time she exhaled. She attempted to push away all thoughts and images from her head. But Nick kept appearing. So she did what her meditation teacher had advised whenever a worry or concern kept her from clearing her mind. She visualized.

  She imagined him walking away from her and jumping into a pool of fresh springwater. And there he stayed, along with all her other problems, waiting to be dealt with another time.

  Finally, Phoebe cleared her mind and focused on her breathing word. Harmony. She silently chanted it until she fell asleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  What are you working on?”

  Jesse quickly shut down the browser she’d had open on her computer. Turning toward the door, she smiled at her dad. “Just a paper for school. Science. A science paper.”

  It tore her up to lie to her dad, but she didn’t have a choice. If he knew what she was really doing, he’d be hurt. And anyway, it was just a pipe dream. Nothing was going to come of it. He didn’t need to know that she’d been looking at culinary schools all over the country. And farther. Paris looked amazing…

  It was fun to look, to daydream. But she knew she could never leave her father. She was stuck in Redbolt.

  And that was just fine with her. It was a nice place to live. Really, it was.

  And that’s what she’d keep telling herself.

  Standing, she tucked a dreadlock into her scarf. “I’m just working on a paper on…global warming.”

  Her dad came into her room and sat on the bed. “I’m so proud of you, Jesse. So your classes at the community college are going well?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Definitely.”

  And why wouldn’t they be? The local JC was basically just an extension of high school. The majority of her graduating class from Redbolt High were taking the same courses she was. There were a few older students who were going back to school, but Jesse knew most of them as well.

  Nothing ever changed.

  “And work at the restaurant is going well?” her dad asked.

  She sat on the bed across from her dad and crossed her legs. “Of course. Nick’s an amazing chef. I’m learning a lot.” She tried not to sound too excited. Sure, her father would be happy she enjoyed working at the family business, but Jesse was concerned her zealous enthusiasm would give away her love of cooking nonvegetarian items. “Yup,” she said. “Nick’s a great teacher. I’m learning a lot…” She looked up. Damn it. That was so the wrong thing to say. “About vegetables.”

  “Oh? Like what?”

  Damn. Picking a thread on her quilt, she said, “Oh, you know. Some new techniques.” Like how to make a slow-roasted pork loin that melts on your tongue. But yeah, she wasn’t about to say that to her vegetarian dad. “Like, we made broccoli millet croquettes the other night.”

  “Very nice.” Her dad glanced out the window, and when he looked back at her, Jesse thought he was about to say something more.

  But he was interrupted by the Hollywood bombshell, who breezed into the room. “Good morning! How are you two doing today?”

  Jesse wasn’t sure what to make of Sherry. She’d been staying with them for two days, and despite the fact that she never did her own dishes, the woman seemed nice enough. One thing was for sure: the woman dressed impeccably. In fact, Jesse didn’t think she’d ever seen a woman who always appeared so put together and chic.

  Chic. That was a word one didn’t use every day in Redbolt.

  Today, chic Sherry wore her blonde hair in a tight, high ponytail. She wore a flouncy blouse that would have looked frumpy on anyone else Jesse knew, but Sherry worked it. The blouse was tucked into a tight skirt that showed off legs that were the perfect amount of muscle and curve. And even though Jesse had never considered herself one of those “shoe girls,” she had to admit that the high-heeled red patent pumps adorning Sherry’s feet were luscious.

  And really high. Jesse wondered how the woman kept from toppling over.

  Something in her chest
gave a little tug. She couldn’t help but stare at this glamorous specimen. Sure, Jesse had seen beautiful, fashionable women before. In movies, on television, and once in a while, a tourist would catch her eye with some kind of stylish accessory Jesse had never seen before. She’d always looked away from those in-person encounters. She wasn’t sure why, but whenever she’d see someone who obviously lived in a city, where fashionable stores were plentiful, Jesse would feel dowdy. Like a bumpkin, as Nick would say.

  Even though she was from L.A., Sherry epitomized what she imagined every woman in Paris looked like. Her heart gave a little tug. She was envious.

  She wrapped a dreadlock around her finger. She’d starting growing them so many years ago that it was part of her very identity now. She couldn’t imagine having real-girl hair. She couldn’t imagine styling and blow-drying and curling.

  It just wasn’t who Jesse would ever be. She knew who she was, what she was about. Where she lived. Like Phoebe always said, all they had was each other. Family.

  That was her life, and it would always be the same. She unwrapped the dreadlock from her finger and tucked it behind her ear.

  Still, Jesse’s eyes were drawn to those amazing shoes and her toes twitched with a crazy urge to know what they felt like.

  She stilled her toes. “Mornin’, Sherry.”

  Running his hand through his hair, her dad stood. “Sherry. How are you today?”

  Jesse looked at her father. If she didn’t know better, she’d think her dad was blushing.

  Impossible.

  “I’m wonderful.” Sherry smiled brightly. “Well, I just wanted to say hello before I head off to work.”

  “Oh? Do you have a plan for the day?” her dad asked.

  Sherry reached into the fancy briefcase she held at her side. “I have a list of restaurants I plan on visiting.”

  Her dad’s eyes sparked with interest. He loved planning. And it could be anything from a menu to a car trip to how to arrange the kitchen. Just say the word plan, and he got all excited. Secretly, Jesse called him Planny McGee.

  “Mind if I have a look?” he said.

  “Not at all.” Sherry handed him the piece of paper.

  Her dad’s brow furrowed. “Hmm.”

  “What?” Sherry said, taking a step forward.

  “It’s just that it’s Monday, so several of these places are closed today. Oh, and Christie’s is closed for the month.”

  “Really?” Sherry looked shocked, as if anyplace being closed was totally incomprehensible. “The whole month?”

  “Yes. The family always takes time off to go camping and get away before the summer season starts. They say it’s refreshing for the body and soul and allows them to continue their business every year with new perceptions and ideas in regard to our society.”

  Jesse cringed a bit internally at the new age sound of her dad’s words. Oh well. Welcome to Redbolt. It might be strange, but it was home.

  However, Sherry smiled brightly at Jesse’s dad. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

  “Anyway.” Glancing at Sherry, her dad shifted on his feet. “I could help you. You know, drive you around. Since I know the area and all. I mean, if you like.”

  Sherry positively beamed. “You don’t mind?”

  “Well, my shop’s closed today as well. You know. Since it’s Monday.”

  Sherry put her hand on his shoulder. Jesse just stared as she watched her father’s neck turn a definite shade of red.

  What the heck was going on here? Was her dad—a man she’d only seen interested in one woman, who happened to be Jesse’s deceased mother—actually interested in Sherry?

  Wow. Jesse knew Sherry was a pretty woman and all, but she’d never known anyone who could turn her dad’s head.

  As she watched them leave her room, Jesse just stared. She wasn’t sure how she felt about her dad’s new interest.

  Arms across her chest, Jesse shook her head. Watching Sherry was like a lesson in how to make a man’s brain disappear. For some reason, Jesse thought that might be a good technique to acquire.

  Well, that and maybe a few pairs of those amazing shoes.

  “It’s low tide.”

  Phoebe looked up. Her gaze landed first on a pair of fancy trainers, then traveled up, up, up to skim jean-clad legs that could belong to only one man. She knew those legs. They’d held her up against a wall while the owner of said legs had ravished her.

  Nick.

  She was on her knees, trimming basil in the side garden of the farm. She’d been so engrossed in what she was doing that she hadn’t noticed Nick approach. Now he loomed over her, his hands on his hips and a cocky smile on his face.

  She blew a stray curl off her face and pushed back her wide-brimmed hat. She tried not to think about the fact that she was covered in dirt, her overalls were tattered, and she hadn’t even bothered with mascara today.

  Nick, of course, looked as handsome as ever. His black T-shirt hugged his lean chest. His long, muscular arms were crossed in front of him. She tried not to think about the obnoxious tattoo she knew was just a piece of fabric away on his chest.

  It was an utterly narcissistic tattoo. It wasn’t sexy at all.

  She cleared her throat. There, on her knees, she was nearly at eye-level with his crotch. She swallowed, but her throat was dry.

  “What does low tide have to do with anything?” she asked, raising her gaze to his face.

  He was grinning and looked downright excited. “Oysters!”

  “Oysters?” Slowly, she put down her shears and removed her gloves. “Nick. What are you talking about?”

  He crouched down just as a cloud passed over them, casting a shadow across his face. His blue eyes darkened as he gazed at her.

  Her pulse jumped. She hated being this close to him. She hated the fact that she had to clench her fists to keep from taking his head and pulling his mouth to hers.

  “I’m talking about oysters. You know, those little things that live on a reef…kinda slimy. Very good when roasted over a fire pit.”

  She took off her hat and attempted to put her hair back into some semblance of a braid. “I know what oysters are. What I don’t understand is why you keep repeating the word.”

  Standing, he took her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Leave your hair. I like it wild.”

  “But—”

  She tried touching her hair again, but he slapped her fingers away. She gave him a dirty look. “Why are you going on about oysters?”

  “Because. I heard from a vendor that right now the tide is low and you can walk right out onto the reef and harvest as many as you want.”

  “And?”

  He sighed, looked away, and then back at her. “And, we should go get some.”

  “We?” She smirked. “Why don’t you ask Sherry to go with you?” She tried not to sound bitter, but she was fairly certain she didn’t succeed.

  He laughed. “Sherry?” he said incredulously. “Have you seen her?”

  Phoebe ran a hand over her hair. “Yes. In fact, I have.”

  “Can you picture her getting her hands dirty looking for shellfish?”

  Phoebe thought about it for a second and realized the answer was no. She couldn’t.

  Hands on her hips, she looked warily at the sexy Brit standing in front of her. “So. I’m second choice to Sherry when it comes to sex and oyster harvesting?”

  He blew out a heavy breath. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Do you want to go with me or not?”

  She did. And she didn’t. Every second she spent with Nick was bad. Dangerous.

  The beach? Oysters? Nick? That would take an entire day!

  She shook her head. “I don’t have time.”

  “What do you have to do that’s so important?”

  Besides stay away from you? “I have to finish here in the garden. I have to contact the youth group to arrange for this summer’s volunteers. And”—she straightened her back—“I have to work on my brownie recipe for the cook-off.”
She’d been trying. Repeatedly. But she just couldn’t get the damn thing down.

  “Do you need some help with that?” he asked. “Because I’m sure with a little help we could—”

  “There is no we,” she said in a rather loud voice, which she calmed before she continued. “I can do it.”

  “Really? Because from what I’ve seen, I would say otherwise.”

  “I can,” she ground out.

  “Fine. You can make your family recipe for the world’s best brownies, win the bumpkin cook-off, and die a happy woman.”

  She clenched her fists. “Why do you always have to make everything I do seem so stupid?”

  He actually looked a little abashed. After a minute, he said, “I don’t mean to. I’m just kidding.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Well, your brownies are atrocious, but I don’t mean to make you think I believe you to be stupid.”

  “I don’t believe it. But you still come across like that’s what you think. Like I’m some lowbrow twit.”

  “I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m just kidding. Mostly.”

  “Well, maybe your friends back in Hollywood think you’re a real laugh riot, but I don’t.”

  He held out his hands, palms facing front. “Fine. I apologize. I will make great effort in the future not to offend you.”

  She grunted a response.

  “So…,” he said. “Are you going with me?”

  “I told you, I have things to do.”

  “Right. Brownies. Way to change things up on your day off.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Right, sorry. Forgot the rule: no jokes.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I can take a joke.”

  “Okay, good. We’re back on. So?”

  “So what?”

  “Are you coming or not?” He softly punched her shoulder. “Come on. It’s Monday. Everything’s closed.”