Jan Springer - The Pleasure Girl

Teyla prayed. Hard. She prayed harder than she’d ever prayed. And then she jumped.

Nothing happened when she hit the ground.

Except she lost the contents of her breakfast. Bitter bile lurched out of her mouth, and her stomach ached like a bitch. Her skin felt cold and clammy. Perspiration blistered over her forehead and under her arms.

The flu? Morning sickness?

Oh, man, where was Max?

She shouted his name again into the deafening air. No answer. She made it into the house just in time to puke yet again into the kitchen sink.

If this was morning sickness, someone else could have it!

“It wasn’t morning sickness. I miscarried that day, and all I found left of my late husband was a pile of ashes drifting off his tractor seat.” She felt cold and numb inside of her, saying it out loud. Just as she’d felt that day.

“I’m sorry. That was tough to go through. I’m really sorry,” he whispered, and Teyla sighed as he caressed her hair. She liked the feeling of him brushing her strands. It was soothing. Erotic. Nice. She sighed again, and he squeezed his arms gently around her, and for the first time ever, she relaxed in a client’s arms.

“They say it had something to do with the solar flares targeting people that contained certain genes. They just evaporated. There wasn’t anything you could have done for your baby or your husband. It was just some freak scientific thing that no one saw coming. It was out of everybody’s control. Totally out of your control,” he whispered. The tone of his voice was soothing, and it just felt so normal to be lying here in his arms.

She’d lay here for just a moment, she thought to herself, then she’d get up and make him supper. But her eyelids grew so heavy. And she really liked listening to the steady way he breathed. He felt so warm and snug against her. She felt protected. Safe. She hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. Too long to remember…

Logan knew the instant she fell asleep. Her body softened and melted against him. Her breathing slowed, and her heart stopped hammering like crazy. Even now, after taking her, he wanted to fuck her again. There was vulnerability in her. A vulnerability he’d never seen before in the other professional women he’d slept with. An openness in her that brought out his protective side, and suddenly, he’d wanted to know where she’d been on that day that changed everyone’s life forever.

While she relayed her story, he’d realized she wasn’t bitter or hard. While they had sex, he’d also sensed she wasn’t putting on an act. She hadn’t faked her pleasure at his hands. He liked that. A lot.

Logan sighed and watched the strands of her hair move beneath his fingers as he caressed her. She had a really nice color of brown hair. In the twilight, he could see hints of gold and red twinkling there. And her hair felt so soft and silky as he stroked it.

She shouldn’t be living out here all alone. Didn’t she realize how dangerous the world had become? She needed a man to put down roots here. A man to protect her from guys like him. Guys that wanted to take advantage of a woman living alone. A guy who wanted to share her with his partners.

Logan smiled. Yeah, the other two would like this woman. He’d make sure Cassidy and Spencer dished out lots of pleasure. She wouldn’t be disappointed. Not at all.

When Teyla awoke, she felt surprisingly refreshed. Her breasts felt ravenously used. Orally used, actually, and her pussy throbbed with a pleasant soreness. She’d fallen asleep wrapped in a stranger’s arms feeling all safe and satisfied. But while she slept, he’d slipped out of bed and extinguished all but one of her oil lamps and tossed some more wood into the fireplace. As she stared into the semi-darkness, she heard him moving around in the kitchen.

He was being quiet about it. The soft plop of a coffee pot being placed onto the wood stove. The slow opening and closing of the cutlery drawer. The creak of the cupboard door opening where she kept her mugs and plates. The man was hungry, Teyla thought as she smiled into the darkness.

Just then, her stomach grumbled. Her smile widened. Obviously she was hungry, too. Come to think of it, she felt famished.

Climbing off the bed, she slipped the negligee over her breasts and did up the buttons. Grabbing her robe off the bedpost, she wrapped the soft pink terrycloth cocoon around her before tiptoeing across the wood plank floor to hesitate in the slightly open doorway.

Maybe she should just stay in bed? He could join her. He could make love to her again.

Teyla linked. Make love? God, had she totally lost her marbles? She was a sex object to him. Nothing more. And she needed to make sure he had half the money up front, as agreed. Yeah, sure, it was a little late in checking, but hey, he’d been damned good in bed, nicely distracting from the norm. She should be paying him. She stifled a giggle at that thought.

“Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?” His deep voice echoed into the bedroom, making her tense and her cheeks flame with instant heat. Shit! He’d heard her.

“Um, sure. Just give me a minute.” To get my red, irritatingly blushing cheeks under control, she added silently.

“How do you take it?” he called again.

“Black.” Considering sugar and cream were in extremely short supply, she would leave what little she had for her guest. “Sugar is in the canister on the table and some cream is in the jar on the east windowsill.”

She didn’t hear him move, so she figured he took his coffee black as well. Placing her palms against her warm cheeks, she willed them to cool, ordered herself to calm down. Taking deep, steadying breaths, she finally managed to regain a semblance of control. Well, she may as well go out there and make the man some supper. Maybe he’d thank her with another scorching session of sex? Teyla rolled her eyes and chastised herself for thinking that way. He would take her because he wanted to, not because he was thankful for a good meal.

Making sure the sash on her robe was nice and tight, she self-consciously clutched the lapels around her throat and stepped out of the bedroom into the adjoining kitchen. The buttery glow from an oil lamp on a nearby shelf splashed over him. He sat at the table, facing her. He wore only his jeans, and as she entered the room, he smiled, making her tummy do some really nice flip-flops. When she spotted a couple of cute dimples pop out on each of his cheeks, she almost moaned out loud from the erotic jolt slamming through her.

Gosh, he really did look hot!

He seemed genuinely glad to see her.

“Great coffee,” he said as he poured some into another mug he had sitting near him on the table. Her gaze latched onto his long fingers, and she shivered as she remembered how intensely he thrust them into her vagina.

“Come, stand over here,” he said. She noticed his look suddenly seemed glazed with heat. Trembling with an odd sense of anticipation, she went to him. She swallowed as he reached out and pulled on her robe sash. It fell open.

“You won’t need this,” he whispered and slipped the robe off her shoulders. He let it drop with a whisper.

“Or this.” He began unbuttoning those dainty buttons on her negligee. His fingers fumbled from not being used to such a delicate task. Despite that, he did it in record time. He lowered the negligee over her shoulders, past her elbows, and cool air touched her breasts as they spilled free for him to see.

He inhaled softly as he studied them. They felt so unbelievably heavy, and she ached for him to touch her.

“I guess you figured out I’m a breast man.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Oh, her cheeks were warming up again as he stared at her breasts. She noticed there was a breathless tone to her voice, too. A throaty tone she’d never heard before, let alone had known existed.