Pocketful of Sand

I drop my voice low, the blare of the cartoons easily keeping my words from entering the living room. “So, Mr. Danzer, after you’ve memorized me in this room, what will you imagine doing with me?”

No sooner than the words are out of my mouth, Cole’s pupils explode, swallowing up every bit of his blue irises. “Oh, so that’s how you’re going to play.” His voice…God, it is scrumptious.

“Who’s playing?”

One dark blond brow shoots up as he steps closer to the desk. He doesn’t stop until only the expanse of mahogany separates us. “I’d imagine you as my personal assistant, dressed in a slim skirt that stops just above your knees and a silky blouse that buttons up to about right here,” he says, reaching across the desk to press his finger to the space right between my breasts. I feel his touch like a bolt of electricity shooting through me.

Damn, maybe I shouldn’t have started this, I think when I feel moist heat gather in my panties.

“That’s very…specific,” I say breathily, wishing he wouldn’t take his finger away. But he does.

“You’d be wearing high heels and black stockings and your hair would be held up with a pencil.” His words draw me into a scenario. I can all but feel the brush of the skirt against my thighs as I walk into this office to find him sitting behind his big desk.

“Would I be bringing you coffee?” I ask, getting into the vision.

“I don’t give a damn what you’d be bringing me. As long as you bring it, because I’d meet you at the door and I’d close it behind you. Your big, gray eyes would get all wide and innocent like they do sometimes, and you’d back slowly toward the desk. When you felt it brush that beautiful ass, you’d stop. And when I reached you, you’d stop me with a hand to my chest, telling me not to mess up your lipstick. I’d laugh, and then I’d turn you around and bend you over the desk. I’d ease that skirt up and find nothing underneath. Not a damn stitch of underwear. Because you’re a dirty little vixen that way.” His grin is enough to melt all my clothes off. Right here, right now. I’m practically panting as I wait for him to continue. “I’d drop to my knees and I’d kiss those creamy thighs. That pretty ass. That sweet pussy. I wouldn’t stop kissing…and licking…and touching…until you came for me. And then I’d stand up and eeease into you. Again. And again. Until you came a second time, until all that sweetness was dripping down your legs. Then I’d push your skirt down. And I’d turn you around. You’d slap me, but then I’d kiss you and smear your lipstick anyway. You wouldn’t complain. Because you’d love it. You’d love it and I’d love it.”

I’m so turned on, I think I’d be grateful if a good, stiff wind would blow between my legs. I clear my throat, realizing I’m way out of my depth in this game that I so pluckily started. I don’t even know what to say, because everything I want to say is totally off limits with my daughter in the next room. I settle for, “Well, I guess I’ll have to buy a skirt the next time I go to Ashbrook.”

Cole gives me that smile again. It nearly stops my heart, I think, which is not a good thing. At this point, I need all the oxygen to my brain that I can get. All my bloodflow seems to be diverting to…other places. “In that case, let me show you the other rooms, too. You might have a list.”

Excitement twitters through me. This man might be dangerous after all.

TWENTY-TWO

Cole

I AM SO hard right now, I could probably drive a nail through a cement block with the tip of my dick. I’ve taken Eden into nearly every room in my house and spun her an explicit, erotic tale about the things I’d like to do to her in each one. With each scenario, she’s only gotten more excited. I can see it in the flush of her skin. I can feel it in the flutter of her hand in mine. And I can sense it in the rapid way she breathes, in the throaty way she asks questions when she plays along.

Hot damn! I never would’ve expected such a sexual creature to be hiding behind those amazing gray eyes. It’s like a bonus–for a woman to be such a good mother, such a decent person, such a pleasure to be around, but to have a dirty-girl streak, too.

Jackpot.

I pull Eden behind me into the second guest room’s bathroom. “It’s so spacious,” she mutters in her low, husky voice. I know she’s trying to be quiet so she doesn’t wake Emmy, who fell asleep two rooms ago, but it’s sexy as all hell. I don’t even think she realizes how she sounds, how she could ask me to do anything in that voice and I’d do it.

“What was that?” I ask, flattening her against the short wall, out of sight of the door. Just in case.

I feel her shallow breathing. I see the sensual slant of her eyes. She’s on fire right now. Just like me.

“I said it’s so. Spacious,” she repeats, her eyes falling to my lips as she annunciates.

“There are so many things I’d like to hear you say right now. In that voice,” I confess, my mouth mere inches from hers.

“Like what?” she asks, all sex and innocence, spicy and sweet.

“Say ‘cock’.”

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. “Cock,” she says softly.

I bend my knees enough that I can press my hips into hers. Her gasp of pleasure is nearly my undoing.

“Are you wet right now?”

“Yes.”

“You are?”