Hot Buttered Rum: Standalone Romance (Silk Stocking Inn Book 4)

by Tess Oliver

  “I owe you,” he said on a release of breath.

  “Yes, you do.”

  Chapter 11

  The good food, wine and cozy bed had helped us drift off for an hour or so. The spray of rain against the window woke me. I lifted my head from the pillow and looked over at Turner. He was a breathtaking sight to wake up to.

  I kissed his shoulder. It took him a moment to stir.

  “It’s raining. Will Dexter be all right alone on the boat?”

  Turner squinted into the dim light of the room and glanced at the window. “It’s just a mild rain. He’s in his cage inside the galley. He’s fine. But thank you for thinking about him.” Now completely awake, Turner’s dark blue gaze fell on my naked breasts. “Damn, I just realized I’m completely and utterly in debt to you. How the hell should I repay you?”

  I rested back against the plush pillows with a lazy yawn. “Not sure. I’ll let you decide, but I must warn you the interest on the debt is accumulating with each passing minute.”

  “Can’t have that.” He sat up and looked around the room. His eyes landed on the silk scarf draped across the dresser. “Yep, that works,” he said to himself and climbed out of bed.

  I pushed up to my elbow to watch him walk across the floor. Before we climbed under the covers, he’d stripped naked. The warm glow in the room illuminated his incredible physique from his broad shoulders down to his tight ass. My entire body warmed with a blush just looking at him.

  He picked up the scarf. As he turned, his long, hard cock pointed toward me like the arrow on a compass. I sucked in a quiet breath, still shocked by the size of him and completely thrilled that at least for this long rainy night he was mine. Or was I his, I thought wryly as he stomped toward me with a look of determination and a silken scarf dangling from his long fingers.

  He knelt on the bed. “Hands up, wench,” he said with a pirate-like snarl.

  I giggled and tried to look frightened as I lifted my hands. “Oh, you terrible rogue, what do you have in mind?” I asked shyly.

  “I might owe you, but—” He leaned forward and whispered against my ear, “you are mine, wholly and completely mine.” I had to remind myself we were role playing and not to take his words to heart. Even so, it was hard to tamp down the emotional response I had to his words. How badly I wanted them to be true. It was going to take a long weekend away just to help me recover from this weekend away.

  Turner took hold of my hands and pushed them together. Then with a slightly wicked grin, he began tying them with the scarf. My common sense nudged me, reminding me that I should be slightly scared about the prospect of having my hands tied, but I just wasn’t in any kind of physical state to pay attention to my common sense. In truth, every inch of me was alive. I wanted nothing more than to have him take full control of me.

  I knelt obediently in front of him, marveling at how easily I’d allowed him to take charge. In the real world, the world outside the fantastical Silk Stocking Inn, I never allowed men to control me. I insisted on being on equal ground with the male engineers on my team. But in the bedroom, with Turner, I wanted to be his plaything.

  And it seemed he had the same idea. Satisfied that my hands were secured, Turner stood up off the bed and gave me a little tug to follow. He held the free end of the scarf as I made my ungainly exit from the bed without the use of my hands.

  He eyed me from beneath a dark curtain of lashes as he led me to the foot of the bed. Then with a slight tug, he lifted my tied hands above my head. His hot naked body leaned against mine, and the slick, fleshy tip of his erection rubbed my belly as he reached over my head and tied the scarf to the bedpost.

  He stepped back to take a long, hungry survey of me, with my hands tied above my head and my naked body leaned against the post. My nipples hardened from the way his appreciative gaze raked over me.

  Turner returned to the dresser and picked up the can of whipped cream. “I’m hungry for some dessert.” He shook the can and tossed away the cap.

  I pulled at my silky bindings. They were secure. My fingers tingled but not nearly as much as my pussy, as it waited anxiously to see where this was leading.

  With the rain swirling around the inn, the air inside the room was cool. But the heat rolling off Turner’s body warmed me as he moved in front of me. I gasped as the whipped cream coated my breasts. Then he drew a line of cream all the way down to my pussy.

  He tossed the can on the bed and leaned back to admire his pastry chef skills. “I’ve got one helluva a sweet tooth right now.”

  “Probably a good thing since I can feel stuff starting to slip.”

  “Better start from the bottom up then.” He dropped to his knees in front of me. He reached around and took a firm hold of my ass to hold me still as his tongue and mouth devoured the whipped cream. I rested my head back against the bedpost. The scarf helped to keep me upright on shaky knees as he cleaned my skin of the cream. He pushed to his feet and followed the sweet trail up to my breasts.

  I arched my back urging him to take more of me into his mouth. His tongue swirled through the whipped cream, cleaning away the sticky mess.

  “Turner?” I sighed dreamily.

  “Uh huh,” he asked without lifting his mouth from my skin.

  “Did you leave some for the apple cobbler?”

  His laugh tickled my breast as he peered up at me. “You bad girl. You’re supposed to be imagining all the dirty things I’m about to do to you and, instead, your mind is on Coco’s apple cobbler.”

  “Yes well, if Coco made it, I’m sure it will be sublime. But you’re right.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “There. I’m going straight back to dirty thoughts. I might add that I can’t feel my fingertips any longer.”

  “That’s it,” he laughed. “I’m a failure as a pirate.”

  “No, I’m a failure at being a captive wench. I’ll try harder. What should I do?”

  He reached up and untied the scarf and my hands. “Nope, the pirate life is obviously not for me.” He stared down at the scarf and a smiled tilted his mouth. “Fortunately, I’m still really good at the playing dirty thing.” Before I could utter another word, he lifted the scarf and tied it around my eyes. His mouth suddenly pressed warmly against mine, and his voice dropped to a low deep drawl. “Turn around, beautiful.”

  He tied the scarf well enough that I could see nothing. I turned carefully around. His hard naked body came up behind me, and once again, he wrapped me in a blanket of body heat. His palms smoothed along my arms and stopped at my hands. He lifted them to the bedpost. “Hold on, baby, I’m about to repay that debt.”

  His smooth, confident tone sent a tremble through me as I gripped the smooth polished wood of the bedpost.

  “Move your hands lower,” he instructed.

  I scooted my hands down, and as I did my ass jutted out farther. I heard the floor creak as he moved behind me, but the blindfold kept me from knowing exactly what was happening.

  I gasped and nearly lost my grip on the bed when his mouth pressed against my ass. He took hold of my ankles and lifted each foot, placing it back down on the rug so that my feet were spread wide. After the initial shock of being completely exposed I found myself silently pleading for him to touch me. I pushed my ass out farther. He accepted the invite. His hot kisses moved along my ass until he reached the place I wanted for him to be.

  His hand reached between my legs and cupped my pussy, taking special care to rest his thumb against my clit, as he brought me even harder against his mouth.

  “Oh, please.” My moan was lost in the room as his tongue penetrated me. I rocked against his mouth, wanting more. I gripped the bedpost tighter, worried that if I let go I’d crumple to the ground. His tongue brought me close, so close to climax, that my head spun. With the blindfold, it was hard to keep my balance. “Turner, p
lease, take me to bed. I need you to take me.”

  He stood behind me and very nearly had to pry my hands free from the bedpost. He whipped off the blindfold and threw it aside. His dark blue eyes mirrored the way I felt, as if there was no one else in the world right now but the person standing in front of me.

  “Please,” a whimper fell from my lips, and my knees weakened just as he scooped me into his arms.

  Seconds before he’d had me blindfolded and tethered by my own grip on the bedpost, but he lowered me gently onto the bed. I’d been brought to the height of arousal. The moment he finished putting on the condom, I reached for him. Before I knew what he was up to, he’d draped my legs over his shoulders, bringing my pussy right next to him. His heavy sac slapped my bottom as he, without another moment’s hesitation, pushed his cock inside of me. It was a position I’d never been in. I wasn’t sure at first, but as he gazed down at my face, he lowered his hand and began strumming his thumb over my clit. My legs hung over his shoulders and the stubble of his beard rubbed against the inside of my knees.

  Each thrust seemed to go deeper, and his cock reached spots that made me spasm in pleasure. He moved slowly, allowing me to feel every magnificent inch of him as he penetrated me to my core. As his thumb massaged my clit, my pussy clenched against the assault and I felt myself falling over the cliff.

  “Oh, Turner!” I cried out as my pussy tightened and then exploded in waves of ecstasy.

  “That’s it, baby. That’s what I want to hear . . . and feel. Your pussy is holding me like a hot, wet glove.

  He took hold of my thighs and held me steady as he drove into me hard and fast. A primal growl rolled up from his throat as he impaled me one last time before coming.

  Like my hands, after being bound above my head, my feet tingled lightly as I lowered my legs from his shoulders.

  The bed creaked as Turner stretched out next to me. I reached for the covers and pulled them up over our naked bodies. He wasted no time in pulling me into his arms.

  “That was different,” I said with a satisfied sigh. “Very different and very enjoyable.”

  He kissed my forehead and tightened his hold on me. “Just like I’m finding you, very different and very enjoyable.”

  “The room got cold.” I squiggled my body closer to his.

  “Can’t help but notice that you are always trying to take advantage of my body heat.”

  “Oh jeez, thought I was being more discrete than that.”

  “Nope. It’s pretty obvious.” He tightened his arms even more, and all I could think was that I could easily stayed wrapped in his arms forever. If only our forever was longer than a weekend. But tomorrow was Sunday, and I would have to eventually head back home. I had no idea how I was going to forget him or this incredible weekend.

  For a few moments the only sound was the misting rain outside the window. Turner’s deep voice broke the silence. “What are you thinking about right now, my perfect sea treasure?”

  I didn’t answer. I held back a grin as I peered up at him.

  He lifted his head to look at me. “You’re thinking about that apple cobbler, aren’t you?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He sat up and searched around in the pillows and quilt. “Gotcha.” He lifted up the can of whipped cream. “I don’t think it’ll taste as good on Coco’s dessert as it does on you, but let’s go downstairs and give it a try.”

  Chapter 12

  It was just a thin stream of bright sunlight, a persistent ray that had found its way past the nearly imperceptible opening between the curtains, but it managed to find a path directly to my face as I turned on my pillow. I opened my eyes and lifted my arm in front of them to block the light.

  It took me a second to recognize the room and remind myself I was at the Silk Stocking Inn. I turned over and looked at the empty space next to me. The pillow was still concave from his head, and the sheets were twisted around the quilt, but the man, himself, was gone.

  Stop, Ginger, no disappointment, I warned myself. You jumped into this fully aware of the consequences. There had never been any commitment made other than the determination to have a good time together. And that we had.

  The aroma of rich coffee brought me fully into consciousness. My entire body ached with fatigue as I sat up. It was a combination of rowing a canoe, struggling to stay alive in a storm churned sea and then the wonderfully healing activities that had followed my nightmare in the water. The tenderness between my legs reminded me of just how much activity there had been. I never did anything half-assed, that was for damn sure. With work always my top priority and a severe lack of appealing men in my life, I’d basically given up on ever having a sex life again. But it seemed I’d made up for the last year of celibacy in one extremely titillating twenty-four hour period.

  My legs felt wobbly as I stepped onto the cold floor. I took a step and kicked a fluffy pink slipper. Coco had apparently slipped into my room to leave me slippers and a tray of coffee and pastries. How she managed to do these things without me hearing or noticing her, I’d never understand. Just like I’d never understand exactly how I’d managed to end up at an inn and cove that I’d never heard of in my life until now.

  The slippers felt like warm clouds as I pushed my feet into them and shuffled over to the coffee. As hard as I tried to keep it from my mind, I knew today was Sunday. I would have to head home and eventually spend a dreary evening in front of the computer catching up on some work. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sipped it as I stared at the empty bed.

  Turner and I had spent an hour leaning over the kitchen island, eating hot apple cobbler and talking about our lives. My cynical self kept waiting for him to do or say something that would turn me sour on him, but it never happened. He was all charm and charisma, and he was extremely smart. To have all of that wrapped up in a breathtaking package was almost too hard to believe. I glanced around the room and then out at the crystal blue water of the cove. It was almost as if I’d dreamt up the entire weekend. If it hadn’t been for the tender ache in my pussy and the one in my heart, I’d swear that the whole damn thing had just been an amazing erotic fantasy.

  I had no idea what time Coco needed me to vacate the room. Once I did, I had no place to go except home. Would I see Turner again? Was that it? Had he crept out this morning, making sure not to wake me so he didn’t have to say good-bye? That thought left me feeling so deflated, I sat down hard on the chair. I stared at the delicious pastries and wondered if I would be able to work up any appetite. The almond coated bear claw was definitely favoring me with a flirtatious smile.

  I broke off a corner, deciding I could possibly choke down a few bites. I shoved it in my mouth, and as with everything Coco baked, an explosion of flavor helped revive my spirits. I had no one but myself to blame for feeling despondent. I knew darn well that this was just a weekend fling, an incredible weekend fling, of course, but I needed to face reality. Turner had obviously calculated that I would be just an overlong one night stand and that as soon as the sun broke on Sunday I’d be gone. It was really the perfect situation for a man like him. No commitment required. A horrible notion that he might have spent many nights in the very same room with other women sent a cold chill through me. What the hell had I done? I dropped the chunk of pastry and slumped back against the chair.

  A knock on the door made me sit forward. My heart jumped, and for a brief second, I thought Turner had returned. But Coco’s lyrical tone floated through the door.

  “May I come in?”

  I cleared my throat to wash away the edge of disappointment. “Yes, of course, Coco. I’m just having some of your delicious baked goods.”

  Coco walked inside. Creases around her eyes seemed to smooth away with each step and each step became springier with youth. “How are the pastries?” She looked down at the plate. “Why you’ve hardly touched the
m. The lemon curd pastry is my favorite.”

  I feigned an enthusiastic smile and reached for the lemon pastry. “By the way, the lobster pot pie and apple cobbler made for one of the best meals I’ve ever had. Luxurious comfort food that I won’t soon forget.” Along with the company, I thought to myself.

  “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”

  “I’ll just finish breakfast and be out of your way, Coco. I’m sure you need the room.”

  Her brows knitted together. “You’re leaving so early?”

  “I really should get back home. I need to do laundry and catch up on some things before the start of the work week.” I took a bite and as expected, the pastry was delicious. I washed the bite down with some coffee.

  “That’s a shame. Turner will be disappointed.”

  My face shot up from my plate. “Turner?” I had to work at tamping down the excitement in my tone. “Is he here?”

  “Oh no, he headed out on the Pickled Pepper early this morning. Fishing is always best at dawn.”

  My shoulders sank. “Oh, I see.” But I really couldn’t make sense of her statement. Why would he be disappointed when he wasn’t going to be around anyhow? I took another bite of pastry, but my stomach was having none of it. “This is wonderful food, Coco, but I ate so much last night, I’m just not that hungry.”

  “No problem.” She began shifting the plates on the tray to carry it downstairs.

  “I’m just going to hop in and take a shower.”

  “That’s fine. I left some clothes for you in the bathroom this morning. You’re still welcome to wear them even if you aren’t going to the island with Turner.”

  I stopped halfway to the bathroom and turned around. “Island?”

  She stopped her task long enough to look up at me. “Yes, that’s why he’ll be disappointed. He planned to pick you up in the cove and take you on a boat ride to his island.” She smiled. “It’s really more a chunk of land in the middle of the ocean, but he’s doing a really nice job with the beach hut. Should be quite the paradise once it’s done. But since you have to get back home to do laundry . . . I’ll let him know.”