Play With Me, Baby: A Yeah, Baby Novella

by Fiona Davenport

  Play With Me, Baby

  A Yeah, Baby Novella

  Fiona Davenport

  Contents

  Title Page

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Books By This Author

  Yeah Baby Series

  Mafia Ties Series

  Sex & Vows Novellas

  Standalone Novellas

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Fiona Davenport

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For permission requests, please send your email request to authorfionadavenport@yahoo.com.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locales are entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Created with Vellum

  Guy Rule: It's only stalking if you get caught.

  Rhys Campbell doesn’t believe in love at first sight, until he sees Macy Holland in a coffee shop and finds himself stalking her across town… to a sex toy shop.

  Macy isn’t sure what to think about Rhys, except that he’s sexy as sin in his custom suits and even hotter out of them with all his tatted up muscles. The sassy virgin finds herself quickly falling into his bed, but little does she know he’s playing for keeps.

  Warning: if sexy heroes with tattoos and piercings make you want to bite your lip and do dirty things...read on.

  Rhys

  “Sir?”

  “Sir? Your coffee is ready.”

  I snapped out of my trance and took my cup, mumbling a thank you to the barista. My eyes were glued to the woman who had just walked in the door of the coffee shop. I felt as though I’d been punched in the gut, all the air rushing out of my lungs.

  Bean Cup was around the corner from my office and I was a workaholic, so I frequented it often. But, I’d never seen her before. I definitely would have remembered. She was dressed in tight jeans, a loose, soft-looking sweater, and knee-high boots with a heel that elevated her a few inches. Despite the footwear, it was easy to see that I would tower over her. She was absolutely gorgeous, with long, curly red hair, striking green eyes, and milky white skin with a sprinkling of cute little freckles.

  She looked to be in her early twenties, couldn’t have been more than five foot two, and I’d guess she wasn’t more than one hundred pounds, soaking wet. Her tits were small, but high and round, mouthwatering. I’d always been an ass man though, and when she passed me on her way to the counter, I could have wept at the perfection of her backside, tight and each cheek a perfect handful. I would dwarf her with my six-foot-three height and muscular frame. But, I liked the fact that she was so dainty and there was no denying how my body reacted to her.

  I stepped out of the way of several other customers, but still couldn’t tear my eyes away from my ginger angel. For the first time in my life, I felt a little tongue-tied, unable to form the words to say hello. I needed to know her and my body was demanding to fuck her.

  She was almost out the door before I came to my senses and I hurried after her. I watched her climb into a green Volkswagen Beetle before rushing to my car. My long forgotten coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup in my haste and the hot liquid stung my hand. “Shit!” I turned and spied a trashcan a few feet away and tossed the beverage, then climbed into my silver Tesla.

  I managed to make it out of the parking lot in time to catch sight of her car and follow after it. As I drove, I sifted through all the different ways I could approach her. Probably a good idea to avoid mentioning following her, or any behavior that could come off as stalking. Despite my intention to do just that.

  A few miles down the road, the green bug turned into a parking lot and pulled into a space. By the time I drove in, she’d exited her car and was walking towards a store on the end of a row of shops. My eyes drifted up to the name of the place and my jaw practically hit the floorboards. It was a good thing I was parked or I might have gotten myself killed from swerving in shock.

  Dirty Players: Toys, Lingerie, and More. What the fuck was my girl doing going into a place like that? And who the hell was she planning on using that shit with?

  She had seemed so guileless and innocent, I had actually wondered for a moment if all the tattoos hidden under my suit would freak her out. Not to mention the bar through one nipple and the one through the tip of my cock. As I gazed up at the sign and then glanced down to watch her spectacular ass disappear inside, I wondered if I’d been off in my assumptions. I was usually stellar at reading people; it would have been real fucking inconvenient for the talent to fail me in that moment.

  I couldn’t sit back and wonder. I needed to figure out just what my angel was doing at that naughty place because she didn’t belong there, and she’d never set foot in it again if I had any say about it.

  Shutting the car off, I again contemplated how to approach her. Finally, I decided to just wing it and climbed out of my car. Reaching the door quickly, I pulled it open and stepped inside. The light was dim inside the shop and I had to stop for a moment and let my eyes adjust. Once I could see clearly, my gaze swept around the room, looking for the pint-sized redhead. When I didn’t immediately spot her, I began to wander around shelves and aisles. I rounded the end of an aisle carrying an astonishing variety of personal massagers and stopped.

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding when I saw her again. The checkout area was in the center of the room, a box shaped counter that surrounded the employees on all four sides. Standing at a register was the object of my search.

  What the actual fuck?

  She worked there? A smile lit her face as she laughed with some customers while bagging up their items. It was a young couple, but behind them in line was a middle-aged man who was staring at her like she was his next meal. My fists clenched at my sides as I fought the desire to stalk over there and introduce the guy to my right hook.

  I did, however, make my way over to stand in line behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at me and when he spied my fierce scowl, his eyes widened slightly. After he turned back to the front, I noticed the angel glaring at me. I almost shrugged, unapologetic at my behavior. I was going to make sure that the jackass in front of me kept his eyes and more importantly, his hands, to himself.

  She finished with his transaction and he hurried from the store. My grey eyes met her vibrant green ones and they were full of speculation and a little reproach. I stepped to the counter, and that was the moment I realized I was empty handed. Oops.

  “Can I help you find something?” My cock stood at full attention as her sweet voice washed over me. There was a hint of sass that had a grin splitting my face. I had a feeling my angel had plenty of redheaded spitfire in her. All that fire was going to be amazing in bed.

  “There are many ways in which I could u
se your help, angel,” I drawled. “You can start by telling me your name.”

  Macy

  Whoa. The guy standing in front of me was lethally hot, even when he was giving the evil eye to the man in front of him in line. It should have taken away from his pull. If anything, it had the opposite effect—somehow making him even more attractive. He was big, more than a foot taller than me at about six foot three. He was dressed in a suit, but it did nothing to hide how wide his shoulders were and all his muscles. His light-blond hair looked like it was past due for a cut, but it didn’t detract from how attractive he was. Add in piercing grey eyes and, even though I was irritated that he was being rude to another customer, my panties were wet.

  Me, with wet panties. At work. In a sex toy shop. It had never happened before. This job was just temporary until one of the manuscripts I’d submitted was accepted and published. It wasn’t like I worked here for the atmosphere and cheap thrills. The fact that I was so turned on was embarrassing. And the man who’d caused it was staring at me like he was expecting something. Crap!

  “What?” I mumbled, feeling tongue-tied.

  “Tell me your name, sweetheart.”

  “Macy.” The answer slipped out without me intending to answer. “Holland. Macy Holland.” Those damn grey eyes were impossible to resist.

  “Macy,” he repeated in a silky purr that sent shivers up my spine.

  My panties went from wet to drenched. I needed to get this guy out of here, and fast. I was only five minutes into an eight hour shift, and the last thing I needed was to be aroused while at work. It wasn’t unusual to get some creeps in the store, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them would think it was because of them. The other thing I didn’t need was to be, in the least bit, attracted to a guy who came into Dirty Players to shop. Not that I should judge because I worked here—but yeah, I was judging the hot guy standing in front of me anyway. Well, that, and I felt like I’d been stabbed in the gut at the thought of why he was buying sex toys or lingerie… and for whom.

  Straightening my spine, I managed to find the willpower to speak in what sounded like a professional tone of voice. “Was there something I could help you with?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, there’s plenty you’re going to help me with.”

  “Umm, no.” My eyes darted around the store, finding no other customers anywhere. Which was both bad—because it meant I was alone with Mr. Hottie—and good—because it meant I could speak my mind without worrying about scaring anyone else off. “You’re hot, I’ll give you that, but I don’t date customers. I’d have to be insanely stupid to go out with a guy I met in a sex shop. I might work in one, but I’m not dumb.”

  “Never said you were, Macy. Wasn’t even thinking it,” he replied, taking a step closer to me with a determined gleam in his eyes.

  I just barely stopped myself from moving backwards and pointed up above us. “The cameras aren’t for show. Trust me when I say security in here is tight.”

  “You’re scared of me,” he whispered, sounding pained by the idea.

  “Yeah, like I said, I’m not dumb.”

  “So fucking sassy.” With the way he said it and was looking at me, it was clear he didn’t mean it as an insult.

  “Look—” Crap, I didn’t know his name, and calling him Mr. Hottie out loud seemed like a really bad idea.

  “Rhys.” Those grey eyes twinkled with humor as he filled in the blank without me having to tell him what I was thinking. “Rhys Campbell.”

  Double crap, even his name was hot. If only I hadn’t met him at work, I would have flirted my ass off with him. Or I would have at least tried since I wasn’t exactly the best flirter in the world. Not even the second best. Or twenty-millionth. It was sad really, thinking about how inexperienced I was with flirting, considering I was a relatively attractive twenty-three-year-old woman. But a scary experience with a guy at a party when I was nineteen, combined with my best friend getting knocked up during a weekend fling with a guy—one she met because I’d talked her into going to a nightclub with me because I was afraid to go alone—who fell off the face of the planet, was enough to put me off guys for a while.

  Although, Aspen’s situation turned out to be a complete misunderstanding, one Weston had rectified immediately when he came back to town and realized some bitch had tried to keep them apart. Going through the whole pregnancy with her had kept me wary of guys and their intentions when it came to sex. It wasn’t like I was going to have a one-night stand with a guy only to discover he was the love of my life and a covert agent for the CIA, like Aspen had. Then again, eyeing Rhys Campbell up, if I’d met him somewhere else, I could actually see myself agreeing to the one-night stand part. And wasn’t it just my freaking luck that I’d finally met a guy who got me wet, but I couldn’t do anything about it because he was the kind of guy who hit on one woman while he shopped for another in a place like Dirty Players.

  “Rhys,” I said while looking him up and down. “Looking the way you do, I’m sure you don’t have a problem getting women to say yes.”

  “You like the way I look?” he asked with a widening grin.

  I ignored his question since it had been rhetorical, because he’d have to be clueless to not know exactly how women—and likely some men—reacted to him. “You’re in a sex toy shop, so unless you’re here to buy a Pocket Pussy or a blow-up doll”—my cheeks heated as I looked down at his empty hands—“then it seems pretty obvious to me that you already have someone in your life. And yet here you are, hitting on me.”

  “I don’t—”

  Whatever he had to say for himself wouldn’t change my mind, so I interrupted him. “Not that it matters. You’re not the first guy to hit on me while I’m at work, and you won’t be the last. But the answer’s always the same. No.”

  He looked even bigger than a moment before, with his muscles bunched up and his grey eyes shooting fire. “What the fuck?”

  “Hence the cameras. So when skeevy guys don’t want to take no for an answer, I’m protected.”

  “You don’t need protection from me,” he growled, sending a glare at the camera. “But you can be damn sure you’re going to get it from any douchebag who thinks you’re fair game. Because you’re not. Not anymore.”

  Like he’d just said a moment before… what the fuck?

  Rhys

  Rage was burning inside me at the thought of all the sick motherfuckers that hit on my woman while she was at work. I clenched my fists, suddenly having the urge to pummel the next person I saw who had a Y chromosome. The wary confusion on Macy’s face cut through the red haze and I sucked in a deep breath, calming myself.

  This overwhelming deluge of emotions was throwing me for a loop. I worked—okay, owned—an investment firm and spent my days with numbers and statistics. I was known for being cool and collected, level-headed. I took the same approach with dating as I did with work, analyzing the possible outcomes. My cynical views had long ago convinced me to give up on that particular activity.

  And yet, the moment I saw this feisty redhead, a myriad of feelings bubbled to the surface. The strongest and most foreign was a fierce possessiveness. I didn’t have any interest in picking apart the details of a relationship and future with Macy. She would be mine. End of story.

  However, I’d put myself in a precarious position by approaching her at work. It hadn’t occurred to me that I would need an excuse for being in Dirty Players to convince her I wasn’t one of the sleazy guys she probably saw on a regular basis. I briefly considered the truth, that I’d more or less been stalking her. Then promptly dismissed the idea. It was too high of a risk that it would send her running.

  The bell above the door tinkled, announcing the arrival of another customer. Macy glanced in their direction and her face lit up with a bright smile. Jealousy ripped through me, another shock to my system since I’d rarely felt it before. I wanted to be the only man who put smiles on her beautiful face. My head whipped angrily in the direction of the entrance, bu
t when I saw who it was, I relaxed.

  Weston Davis lifted his chin at her as he strolled through the door, his arm wrapped tightly around a pretty blonde woman who waved. His wife, Aspen, I assumed. I’d never met her, but I’d heard all about her during my meetings with Weston. They approached the counter and Macy ducked under it to hug Aspen.

  Leaning casually against the shiny black worktop, I greeted Weston. “Davis. Of all the gin joints…”

  His shrewd green gaze darted in my direction and narrowed before he raised an eyebrow in silent question. “Fancy meeting you here, Campbell. I was beginning to think your balls had shriveled up and died.”

  I laughed, even as both women gasped. Aspen smacked Weston’s arm and glared. “Weston!”

  He looked down at his wife and gestured to me with a grin. “What? It’s no secret that Rhys doesn’t date. A few of us even have a bet going, either he’s really fucking bad in bed, or he’s still a virgin.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, man,” I remarked drily. I couldn’t help peeking at Macy to see how she was reacting to this conversation. She was watching our exchange thoughtfully, and most of her hostility seemed to have ebbed away. At least she didn’t seem scared of me anymore. The idea that she thought I could somehow hurt her had eaten away at me.

  “You know this guy?” she asked Weston.

  He nodded to her. “We grew up together and his firm manages my investment portfolio.” Looking back at me, he smirked. “Found someone worth breaking that dry spell for?” he joked.

  I was completely serious when I turned my head and met Macy’s green eyes before answering. “Yes.”

  “Smart idea to come in and pick up some education material. But, you could have just come to me, you know. I’m the motherfucking king in the bedroom.”