Playing For Her Heart

by Megan Erickson

  He watched her, studying her body language. Her lips were parted, gaze roaming his face and chest. If he hadn’t seen her aroused before, he wouldn’t have noticed. But he had seen her, naked and so fucking needy.

  As Sari, as his princess, she’d been bold, unafraid to voice what she wanted. There’d been no shyness to Sari, no hesitation to seek pleasure, no embarrassment for wanting a simple human need. In a role, Chloe had been dynamic; she’d been able to say what she wanted. And maybe he was reading her wrong there in the kitchen, but if he was right, she wasn’t opposed to Grant touching her again.

  Time to see if his wanton princess wanted to come out and play.

  This could crash and burn in epic failure. Grant was a thirty-two-year-old man and this was probably a horrible idea. But he couldn’t get Chloe’s green eyes out of his head, the way she kissed him, the way she moved under his palms. And, fuck, the way she tasted… So, he took a deep breath and went for it, knowing this could completely end in Ethan ripping out his heart like in that Indiana Jones movie.

  Grant tipped up his lips and narrowed his eyes, adopting the air of a domineering businessman. “I thought I told you that I wanted the entire house finished by the time I got back. I’m not paying you to dance around the kitchen.”

  Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, and Grant waited, on fucking pins and needles to see if she’d play along.

  The only sound was the refrigerator kicking on, and he was about to laugh, and tell her he was joking, when her voice, small but gaining power, said, “But, sir, you’re home early.”

  That sir went right to his cock.

  He took a step toward her, smiling when she backed up into the counter behind her. “I’m only a half an hour early, and you have a lot more than half an hour of work to do. What’s your excuse?”

  Her lips parted. “I—”

  He stepped into her space, plucking her iPod from the waistband of her pants, setting it on the counter along with her earbuds. Her eyes fluttered closed.

  “Yes, Sara?” he questioned, hands on either side of her, pinning her in. The name he made up was close enough to Sari that he figured he’d remember it.

  She opened her eyes, and he stared into the swirling green pool of her irises. She was in the role now; he could feel it. “I’m sorry but I took a nap in your bed.”

  Jesus, his cock twitched and he shifted, so the front of his jeans brushed her thigh. “You napped in my bed?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I know, I w-was bad.”

  God, he was going to come in his pants. He ran a hand along the outside of her thigh, teasing the skin under the hem of her shorts. “Is that all you did? Sleep?”

  She shook her head.

  “No? What did you do in my bed?”

  “I-I touched myself.”

  Her whisper was a lick across his balls. With a grip on her biceps, he spun her around, so she faced the counter. She gripped it with a cry, but didn’t struggle. Instead, she threw her head back and pushed out her ass.

  He took the invitation for what it was. He lowered her shorts along with her panties, hooking the fabric under the cheeks of her ass.

  He smoothed a hand over it, and reveled in the small moan she made in the back of her throat. “You know I need to punish you, right?”

  She nodded, her hair bobbing.

  “I’ll go easy on you if you’re truthful with me.”

  “Okay, sir.”

  He squeezed one cheek, then let it go, watching as the blood rushed back to the white areas made by his fingers. “What did you think about when you touched yourself?”

  The hesitation was for effect, he knew it. What a little actress she was. She looked at him over her shoulder, smiling coyly and blinking under her lashes. “You, sir. I thought about you and your huge cock.”

  The first smack was harder than he intended, because fuck, she brought him to the edge. That voice, that look, that ass that reared back into his palm, begging to be slapped. “So bad, Princess,” he murmured into her ear, rubbing the area he’d marked, needing to get control. “You’re so bad.”

  “So bad,” she echoed, rolling her hips, grinding against the counter. “I need to be punished, sir.”

  He smacked her again, opposite cheek, then began to alternate as he gained a steady rhythm. He was about to burst in his jeans, his cock straining against the zipper but at least he’d been able to gain control of his arm. He wanted to mark her, just a little bit, but not bruise.

  Her skin was hot, red, and tight under his palm and goddamn, what he wouldn’t have done at that moment to feel that hot ass against his skin as he gripped her hips and thrust into her. But next time he fucked her—and Grant vowed, there would be a goddamn next time—they were doing it face to face. Because he wanted those large tits bouncing in his face, her nipples brushing his lips.

  But now, she needed him, his princess. She was right on the edge, he could tell by the way her breath came in pants, the way her arms trembled where she gripped the counter. He slid his hand down the seam of her ass, until he reached the slick walls of her pussy. He immediately plunged his fingers inside of her, feeling her contract around them. She cried out and ground against him.

  He gripped her chin, rearing her head back and smashed his forehead to her temple. “That’s it, Princess. Ride my fingers.” She was letting herself go, so un-self-conscious, and it was beautiful. “This is the girl I’ve been missing. The one who comes hard for me.”

  Her breath broke on a sob and he angled his hand, so a finger pressed against her clit, rubbing and swirling and pinching until she was done for. She pulsed against his hand, her cries echoing throughout the kitchen. And he smiled as his princess came apart.

  Every instinct in him screamed to unzip his jeans, to relieve this pressure in his balls and take her right then, right there in Ethan’s kitchen.

  And that was the problem. This was Ethan’s house. This was Ethan’s sister. And there he was, with a bare-assed Chloe, his hand still buried inside of her, while she caught her breath from the orgasm he’d just wrung out of her, little whimpers escaping her throat.

  God, what was it about her? He was fucking addicted to her body, to the sounds she made when she came, to the look in her eyes when she was aroused. But if Ethan ever found out…

  “Chloe, we need to talk,” he said in her ear.

  And just like that, her body stiffened. She took a giant step to the side, so his fingers slipped from her. She pulled up her panties and shorts, and ran her hands through her hair. She was shaking, her whole body trembling. He didn’t know how to fix this, how to get back to when she was putty in his hands.

  “Chloe—”

  “You need to go before Ethan gets home.” She’d picked up her sponge and was back to scrubbing the countertops. Completely ignoring him like he hadn’t just had a part of his body inside of hers.

  “Chloe, Jesus Christ. We have to talk about this. I mean, we both wanted that, and it happened, and I don’t see why it can’t happen again—”

  She whirled to face him, green eyes terrified. “No. No, it can’t happen again.”

  He stared at her. “Uh, well you said that last time and here we are, in post-orgasmic-fucking-bliss. Well, at least one of us.”

  At least a glimmer of sympathy flitted across her face as her gaze flicked to the front of his pants. “Look, I—”

  The front door opened, effectively freezing them both.

  “Grant? Chloe?” Ethan called.

  Chloe’s eyes were huge, and all Grant could do was stand there, the smell of her still on his fingers. He was a grown-ass man and this was some teenage bullshit. “Guess Daddy’s home,” he muttered.

  ...

  She’d gone insane. There was really no other rational explanation for why she’d let Grant spank her and finger-bang her in Ethan’s kitchen.

  No, let wasn’t the right word. God, she’d asked for it, begged for it.

  Damn Grant, with his perfect hair and beau
tiful eyes and talented fingers. Damn him. He’d known exactly what she’d needed to let go, to give in to her body’s cravings. He gave her a role and she’d slipped right into it. She’d always had a bad maid fantasy. She had a lot of fantasies like that, but hell if she’d ever acted one out. This fantasy now could have used a better outfit, and a feather duster. Maybe one of those little caps? That would have really done the fantasy justice. She had to wing it a little without her props.

  Now here she stood, the skin between her legs wet, a hollow feeling where Grant’s fingers had been, and the sound of her brother’s footsteps getting closer.

  Grant was tense, the bulge in his pants less now, but he was surely still uncomfortable.

  Ethan walked into the kitchen, frowning when he spotted them. “Chloe, I told you that you didn’t have to clean. I have a housekeeper.”

  She nearly swallowed her tongue.

  Ethan dropped a bag of groceries on the counter and turned to Grant, raising his eyebrows. “What are you doing here? I saw your car outside.”

  Grant shrugged, shoving his hands in his jeans. “Just wanted to say hi.”

  Chloe decided that was her cue to leave. She’d come over that morning, unwilling to sit in her apartment by herself because she couldn’t get Grant out of her head. And all that did was lead her right into his hands. His very capable hands.

  She dropped the sponge in the sink and grabbed her iPod off the counter. “Well, uh, I’ll leave you two then.”

  She walked by Ethan, who protested. “You don’t have to leave—”

  “I have some errands to run,” she lied. “Have a great Saturday.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek.

  “Thanks for cleaning,” he said.

  When she’d showed up, he hadn’t been home, so she’d busied herself, even though his kitchen was damn near spotless. As she walked down the hallway, she glanced over her shoulder. Ethan’s back was to her as he put away groceries and Grant stood watching her, a look of longing on his face that socked her in the gut.

  She quickly turned around, and left the house, jogging to her car parked at the curb.

  But when she got inside, she didn’t start it. Instead she gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles.

  Grant was charming, and funny, and when he was around, when his lips were whispering dirty words in her ear, she forgot about everything but the pleasure they could wring from each other.

  So far, he was willing to play her game, let her act a role, and for that she was grateful. Because Chloe? Chloe didn’t bite her lip coyly, or react like a wanton when her ass was slapped.

  No, he didn’t want Chloe. He wanted Sari. And Sara.

  She could give him that.

  And really, after all she’d been through, didn’t she deserve that escape? They could keep it from Ethan. Just a couple more times. Surely, she’d start craving Grant less eventually, right?

  Without thinking too much about it, she grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen, scribbling some words on it, her cheeks heating as she thought about what he’d think when he read it.

  Then she glanced quickly at Ethan’s house. Seeing no movement in the front windows, she jumped out of her car and dashed to Grant’s. After a moment of hesitation, she slipped the piece of paper under his windshield wiper and then ran back to her car. When she was safely behind her wheel, turning the ignition, she had a moment of indecision. She should run back, take out that piece of paper, and forget all about Grant.

  And she thought about it, but then she saw the curtain move in Ethan’s front window. So she slammed the car into gear and sped off.

  She was still breathing hard when she parked in front of her apartment complex. She glanced at her dashboard clock. Approximately ten hours until she asked Grant to meet her. Ten hours to agonize over her decision with no way to tell him she was backing out. The thought of standing him up sat like lead in her stomach. He didn’t deserve that. He’d done everything she asked of him—and then some. He’d given her a role to play, enabling her to give in to her desire. And he still wanted her, despite the way she’d spurned him afterward.

  When she was safely in her house, she thought about cooking one of several new dishes she’d been meaning to try, something to take her mind off what was to come. But the last time she’d cooked distracted, she’d melted a plastic spoon, so maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

  Her eyes strayed to the lone picture she’d taped on her refrigerator. Chloe, Samantha, and Ethan stood, arms around each other, grinning like fools in front of Lake Erie, where they’d taken a vacation on Ethan’s dime. The three of them, along with their parents, rented a house and spent an entire week together.

  It’d been the last time they’d been a family of five. Because a week later, Samantha was dead and Ethan was in the hospital suffering from third-degree burns to his chest and neck.

  She closed her eyes and turned away from the picture, thinking she should take it down rather than be reminded of when smiles had come easy.

  That was in the past, and tonight, she had a role to play. One she’d been dying to play for a while. And she had the perfect dress for it.

  Chapter Six

  This was insanity.

  Grant ran his hand over the pocket of his pants, comforted in the crinkle of paper he felt there. The club music was loud, the base pounding the floor beneath his shoes. The crowd was drunk already at ten at night. He couldn’t imagine what this placed looked like at last call.

  The lights were so dim, he could barely see his hands in front of his face, but he figured that was the idea. No one did the things people were doing on the dance floor with all the lights on.

  He shifted uncomfortably, checking his watch. Chloe was half an hour late, and he was starting to wonder if she’d changed her mind, or if this was all a joke.

  He fished in his pocket for the slip of paper and squinted at the scrawled handwriting, tilting it toward a low light behind the bar where he stood.

  Bax’s Club

  9:30 PM

  Sara will be in the black dress. She owes you.

  Just like when he’d found the note on his car, his cock twitched. He’d remembered what she’d looked like on the edge of the bed in that hotel room weeks ago, full lips stretched around him. He wanted that again, and then he wanted those legs wrapped around him as he pounded her into the wall.

  He was surprised as hell that she prompted this. In Ethan’s kitchen, she’d looked scared, a hint of vulnerability creeping in when she firmly told him this wouldn’t happen again. But here they were, about to play out the rest of their sir-maid fantasy. Or at least, he was here. Chloe had yet to show.

  And fuck if Grant couldn’t wait. He shoved the note back into his pants pocket and downed the rest of his rum and Coke. As he set the empty glass on the bar, a pair of fingers slipped through his belt buckle and tugged.

  He whirled around, prepared to tell whomever was touching him that he was waiting for someone.

  But his mouth went dry and fell open when he stared into Chloe’s green eyes. The colored light behind the bar gave them an eerie, inhuman look. She’d lined them thickly with eyeliner and her lips were a bright red.

  He’d seen a lot of little black dresses in his life, but none even came close to the scrap of material Chloe was wearing. Her breasts were plumped up, spilling out over the top. He balled his fists when all he wanted to do was pull down the neckline, let those breasts pop out so he could see her pretty pink nipples.

  The dress was skintight and barely covered her ass. It shimmered in the rotating strobe light of the DJ booth, the material appearing to have a metallic sheen. Most of her gorgeous thighs were bared to his gaze. He homed in on those delicate anklebones that intrigued him so, showed off in a pair of silver stilettos.

  Her hair was straight, her bangs brushing along the top of her long black lashes, and she clutched a small red bag.

  He met her emerald gaze again, having a hard time reconciling this siren with the meek woman he�
�d eaten dinner with earlier in the week.

  She was the same though, he knew. And this was her idea. And he was a sucker for letting her think she could hide from him, but if role-playing was the only way he could get close to her, he’d take it. For now.

  Her palm cupped him through his pants, and he leaned down so she could speak in his ear. “Thought about you all day, sir. How would you like to be repaid for the time I wasted?”

  He was growing in her hand, hardening as she stroked him through the material. “I expect payment to be made on your knees, Sara.”

  Her breath caught in his ear, and then a small hand slipped in his. He was led away from the bar, away from the dance floor, and down a hallway. They walked past the bathrooms and he thought about questioning her, but he was too mesmerized by the way her ass moved in front of him, the sound of her heels clicking on the tile floor, as she led him down one dark hallway after another.

  He wanted to leave breadcrumbs in their wake to show him the way back. Although something told him, after this night, he might never find his way back to the way things were.

  And that didn’t scare him like it should have. Instead, he followed this woman, this beautiful woman who confused him and turned him on. Who responded so well to his hands and tongue and cock.

  He followed her because in that moment, there was no other option in his mind.

  She tested a couple of doors, jiggling the knobs until she found one that gave way. She pulled him inside and shut the door behind them, pushing him backward until his shoulders touched the door.

  A light flickered on and he blinked at the source of it, which was a naked bulb screwed into a ceiling fixture. Chloe stood before him, nipping at his jawline. He grabbed the back of her head firmly and brought her mouth to his. He bit her lips and licked into her mouth. She made small, greedy moans, and rolled her hips against him as her hands pushed at his jacket.

  He pulled out of the kiss and tugged off his jacket quickly, dropping it on the floor at her feet. “Knees,” was all he said.

  The flush on her face extended down to the tops of her breasts. She visibly shuddered at his command, and while meeting his gaze, slowly lowered to her knees.