Page 48 of Crushing Clover

“With a big fat ghost dick?”

He shrugged. “My aunt really believes in ghosts.”

We dressed quickly, but not before he insisted I turn for him to model the bra and underwear.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He sighed, dejected. “I’m going to ask Saint if I can fuck you on my break tonight.”

I stepped into the dress he’d chosen—a floaty blue one I loved. “Can you zip me?” I turned my back to him.

He zipped up my dress, then planted a kiss on my nape. We’d gone back to our playful dynamic with each other, but I hadn’t forgotten what he was capable of. He acted like a sweetheart, but he hadn’t apologized for almost choking me out on his dick at the mall.

“Did your secret nocturnal fuck buddy get you off, at least?”

“No.”

He laughed low, making me shiver. “Then that’s how you know it wasn’t me. If I was going to break the rules like that, I’d break that rule, too.”

“Fucking me at night is against the rules?”

“Not exactly.” But he sounded like he wouldn’t do it without asking. Or he was messing with me, and he was the one doing it. “I wonder how long it’ll be before Saint lets you up on the furniture. I want you next to me in bed.” He pulled me close, his hands on my upper arms, our bodies pressed together.

“I don’t know, but at this point I’m getting my best sleep on the couch in the office. It’s the only time I don’t wake up sore, in more ways than one.”

He let me go and took out some silver Mary Janes for me, then shook his head and chose a pair of nude sandals. Rather than hand them to me, he sat me in a chair and put them on my feet, as though I really were Cinderella. That romantic feeling only lasted until the sandals were on, though, because then he pushed the hem of my skirt up slightly and ran his fingertip over the gusset of my underwear. Through the fabric, he found my clit and teased at it.

I whimpered, and he groaned.

“We’d better go down,” he suggested, but his eyes lingered between my legs.

“Go down?” I asked breathily.

“Mmhmm.”

“Lucky!” Rush called from downstairs.

“Fucker.” He got to his feet and pulled me up, too. “He always seems to know when I’m up to no good.” His wink was both sexy and scampish, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“What would he do if you didn’t answer because we were fucking?”

“I don’t think either of us wants to go to Cygnet tonight in that much discomfort.”

Damn. It was hard to tear my mind away from his promise of orgasms.

So…hard…

Breakfast was delicious lemon blueberry scones with a side of perfectly cooked bacon. Of course, when the guys were discussing the meal, they used so much culinary jargon I could barely understand them. I sat on the floor beside Saint John and waited impatiently for the next delicious bite.

“You decided to go easy on her today,” Rush observed.

“You know damned well this is what was on the meal plan.” He took another bite of his scone. “I think I kneaded this dough too long.”

“No,” Lucky said, gesturing with his scone. “The blueberries are slightly out of season.”

Saint John shrugged. “Well, there’s no helping that. At least I’m not serving them to the public.”

“They’re edible,” Lucky assured him.

The scones were still warm, and the way they melted on my tongue? How would I ever go back to Pop-Tarts?

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