Page 107 of Play Me
I stretch, and a delicious ache emanates from my groin. I’m naked, covered only by a navy blue blanket … except my breasts. The skin on my chest is marred by various light bruises from Gray’s mouth.
I shiver as memories from last night stream through my brain.
The truck. Gray’s face framed by my legs. His lips covered in my cum.
The length and thickness of his cock, and the salty bead sitting at the top waiting for me.
My knees throb, and I jerk the blanket away to see red marks from the hard ground.“Stay with me. Give me all of it.”
I can see his face as he utters the commands, a mixture of strength and tenderness that makes it hard to breathe even now. I told him that I wanted him to take control—and it still blows my mind that I could verbalize my need to him, of all people. But the way he handled it, as if he understood what I was really asking and delivered in such a thoughtful way, leaves me reeling.
What else is this complicated man capable of?
I fall back into the pillows and giggle. “Who knew I had a praise kink?”
Ping! Ping! Ping!
I stand, wobbling for a moment on my exhausted legs, and make my way to the window. Squinting, I focus on the bodies standing around a fence post—four of them, to be exact. As they come into focus, I bite back a moan.
Hartley stands between Jasper and Brooks as Gray pounds a tool against a stake.Shirtless … in cowboy boots. Sweat coats his skin, and his muscles ripple in the light as if the sun’s whole purpose is to highlight the perfection of his body. Movies are built around this scene, and I would be remiss not to capture it for posterity … and my personal use later.
I rustle through the blankets until I find my phone. Then I snap a picture and post it in the group chat.
Me: Yeehaw!
Gianna: And the gifts keep on giving.
Me: I’m not mad about it.
Audrey: I’m not seeing anything to be mad about.
Gianna: Saturday. I’m tired of Stupey’s, so how about Rhubarb at 7:00 p.m.?
Me: Sounds good. It’s my turn to pay. My raise hit my bank account on Friday, so here’s to having a bit of money (if Joe comes through for me).
Audrey: I can make it. Sending you and Joe all the good juju!
Gianna: Prepare a monologue, Astrid. I want EVERY detail.
Me:
I perform a quick check of my email, then succumb to my growling stomach. A glance out the window shows the guys still working hard. So I get dressed sans panties—where did they go?—and freshen up in the bathroom. My finger makes a decent toothbrush in the absence of the real thing.
I head to the kitchen, following the scent of bacon and coffee. I’m greeted by a robust woman in a red-and-white checkered apron with the makings of a pie crust in front of her. She smiles as if she’s been expecting me and asks if I’d like a cup of coffee.
“Yes, please,” I say, feeling slightly awkward.
“It’s a beautiful morning out there, isn’t it?” She offers me creamer, but I shake my head. “I’m Cathy, by the way. The boys said you were sleeping. I saved you some breakfast, if you’re hungry. Do you like bacon and eggs?”
She made me breakfast?“Who doesn’t like bacon and eggs?”
“Vegetarians.” She laughs, motioning toward the table. “Sit. Relax. I’ll fix you a plate. Do you prefer white or wheat toast?”
I take a seat, puzzled.What is happening here?Gray mentioned Cathy yesterday—I vaguely remember him saying her name.But why is she acting like my personal chef?
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, fidgeting in the chair. “I’m sure you have other things to do.”
She pauses, her hand stretched mid-air for a spatula. The grin she gives me is the warmest, sweetest thing that washes away any hesitation I have about letting her wait on me.
