by Knox, Abby
“Have fun!” she said with a wave as her daddy finally buckled himself in and the driver shifted into gear.
Her mother, Betsy, leaned across her husband in the captain’s chair and said, “Have fun! You two enjoy your time together. Go make me some more grandbabies, will you?” Betsy was beaming. She was the happiest grandmother anyone had ever seen. Lionel roared, half laughing, half horrified, “Oh God, please no more!”
Rosemary waved as they sped off down the long drive back to the main road. When the gates closed behind them, Rosemary turned tail up the front stairs and went inside, shut off the porch lights, and locked the massive double doors behind her. By God, nobody was going to interrupt this weekend alone with Ash.
As she made her way up the stairs to the master suite, she kicked a teddy bear off the landing that fell and landed on the piano, which itself was covered in blankets from a recent lesson in epic fort-making.
She pushed open the door of the bedroom, ready to strip down, shower, and dress in her new teddy. Not that Ash needed any encouragement. She removed her smartwatch and checked the time. She would have exactly ten minutes before Ash would get home from running errands. He was probably out to get her some espresso ice cream—always a necessity when taking a break for sustenance while on a weekend sexcapade.
But when she looked up, she thought briefly she had entered the wrong room. She took a beat. Nope, this was the right room. There was their bed. But, there, on the other end of the room, suspended from the ceiling, was a contraption she had never seen before.
Well, she had seen sex swings on the internet. She must have forgotten to erase her browser history because here, in front of her, was some version of one. It looked way more complex than she had expected. There were straps, buckles, harnesses—way more things going on than necessary. She moved forward and ran her hand over the accessories.
“Shit. He’s gonna get an extra spanking for this,” she muttered.
“Oh, no, baby girl.” Rosemary startled at the sudden sound of Ash’s voice behind her in the doorway. He was wearing a wicked grin and nothing else. “We are ’bout done with my discipline. It’s past time to get you under control.”
Rosemary cocked her head. “You know, in ten years we’ve never tried any crazy shit other than scarves and feathers and vibrators. This is not even a normal swing. This is some large, varsity shit, Ash. You sure you’re ready for this?”
Ash crossed his arms in front of him, taking a stance of authority. “Yes ma’am. It’s custom made. I had it shipped from Europe.”
“In five days?”
“It was super expensive, but I got it done, just for you. Let’s do this.”
Rosemary smiled. She liked it when he took charge like this. “Lemme just shower first, babe. I’m a mess from my run.”
But her man shook his head. “Nope. I want you salty.”
She was instantly wet at the thought of how much he preferred to take her dirty.
* * *
Moments later, Rosemary was naked and was sort of half-strapped into the swing, one leg on the floor. Confused and lost, she examined the other harness while Ash was reading the manual out loud to her in a language she did not know. Nothing seemed to make sense with this thing.
“Babe, I think my foot goes here,” she said, holding up a strap, “and my other hand goes over here,” she said, cocking her head to the side as she looked at a mysterious buckle at the end of another strap.
Ash grunted. “I don’t know, babe. I can only make out every third word of these directions. I should have stuck with German instead of quitting after half a semester.”
Rosemary stuck her other foot in a thing that looked like a stirrup and sighed with exasperation. “How did you manage to get it attached to the ceiling?”
Ash looked up, “I am a man with power tools, I can figure out how to bolt shit into walls and ceilings.”
“Ugh,” huffed Rosemary as she struggled with the various straps, stirrups, and harnesses. “Those screws are gonna leave a mark, so I hope you know how to replace drywall, too.”
Ash shrugged as he continued to stare at the manual. “The guys will help with that.”
Rosemary was trying to hoist her bottom into the main strap without losing her balance. “That will be cute. Invite the wolf pack over to fix the ceiling we fucked up with our sex toy.”
Ash, on the verge of getting annoyed with his wife, said, “I was just trying to surprise you!”
Suddenly, Rosemary let out a shriek and tumbled to the floor on her ass.
Ash dropped the manual and was cradling Rosemary in half a second. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
* * *
Ash
He had wanted to impress his wife with an expensive, complex, over-the-top sex toy, and now she was on the floor crying. He had her in his arms and was looking her over for wounds or bruises. He didn’t see any, but she was shuddering.
And then he realized she was not crying at all. She was laughing. Laughing so hard she was crying and could barely breathe.
Her entire little body was convulsing with laughter.
Pretty soon, Ash was laughing, too.
They hugged and laughed for several minutes until they were finally able to speak.
“Baby,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes, “just bend me over the bed like in the old days and give it to me doggy-style.”
He grinned and smoothed her wild curls back from her face. “The prettiest words I’ve heard all day.”
Moments later, Ash was looking at his favorite view in the whole world: Rosemary’s sweet ass. With one hand, he gripped the curves that graced her backside and with the other hand, reached around and gripped her breasts, teasing her nipples, one and then the other, with the rhythm that matched his thrusting.
She wasn’t moaning yet, which piqued his curiosity. He knew she was enjoying it as her sex was around his manhood, coaxing him on.
“Talk to me.”
She turned her head and he saw her flushed face smirking back at him. So she was playing another game with him.
“Come on, woman.”
She turned her head away and gripped him so hard he sucked in his breath. “Oh fuck. You gotta tell me what’s going on in your head.”
He watched as his saucy female gave the slightest shake of her head.
“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to get me to wolf out. You’re trying to get me mad so I wolf out and draw blood with my fangs. I told you I don’t want to do that.”
Rosemary turned her head, and for the briefest of seconds, he saw the panther in her eyes. They turned yellow, and the irises changed to that of a feline, and she let out an indescribable yowl of a cat in heat.
Ash, being Ash, lost it. Partially. He refused to fully wolf out, but the sight of those eyes and the sound of the panther sent him into orbit. His fangs came out, and he couldn’t help himself.
When his teeth nipped her skin, just enough to leave a mark, Rosemary pushed back so Ash’s shaft hit her G-spot and she screamed in ecstatic surrender.
Her grip on him electrified him into a simultaneous explosion.
“There’s no way you’re not getting pregnant tonight,” he whispered as he pulled her in close so her back warmed his chest. He breathed into her neck, his fingers blazing a trail across her glistening, damp skin.
She caught her breath when her most overwhelming waves of pleasure subsided. She purred as he adjusted them so they spooned together on the bed, both beasts sated for the moment.
She reached behind and surprised him by gently gripping him. “Listen,” she said. “I like the swing. We’ll try again later. But for now, all you need to do to get me where you want me is to let me see a little bit of the wolf now and then.”
He closed his eyes and buried his face in her wild hair. “Whatever you want, Rosemary.”
A smile crossed his face. She had him wrapped around her little finger. Always had, always would. And he never wanted it any other way.<
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The End
About the Author
Abby Knox lives a dual life. Fantasy Abby would love to live on a farm with goats, bees, chickens, donkeys and alpaca, making her own soap, yarn, honey and cheese. Reality Abby has no desire to do actual farm work. So, the ever-pragmatic Reality Abby keeps Fantasy Abby happy by putting her into adorable little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope you enjoy her sweet, sexy — sometimes a little over the top and weird — storytelling.
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Also by Abby Knox
Nephilim’s Captive: A Divine Giants Romance. (Book One of seven in the paranormal series Sons of Earth and Heaven.)
Duets
Pumpkin and Spice
Comfort and Joy
***
Marrying Up
Shacking Up
***
Maid for the Billionaire
Made for Marriage
***
Doctor Dave
Officer Max
***
Saved for Me
Matched for Me
***
Off-Season Stud
Midsummer Fling
***
His Vinyl Vixen
Her Hi-Fi Hunk
***
Fencing Her In
Doing Him Good
Need more stand-alone short reads and novellas?
Check out Abby’s other titles!
Butter Queen
Fighting For Dylan (book four in a six-author MMA series!)
Hot Off The Press
The Halloween Bet
The Christmas Pickup
* * *
The Greenbridge Academy series
Swim Coach (book one)
Grumpy Dad (book two)
Benefactor (book three)
Headmistress (book four)
Queen Bee (book five)
Bake Sale Queen (book six)
Coming in autumn 2020
Corn Maze King (the companion to Butter Queen)
Jane
Does this grocery store manager not understand that a broad-shouldered man advertising a corn maze and a pumpkin patch for kids is just about the sexiest thing that exists in four counties?
I turn to the manager. “This town is in desperate need of things to do with little kids. You should let him post this flier. “
I can’t imagine a dumber thing for a person to worry about than who is posting what on the bulletin board for his customers.
After the pinch-faced man in the headset stalks off, I turn to Henry. “What was that all about?” I ask.
Henry shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh, didn’t you hear? People don’t like me.”
I laugh because that’s a ridiculous idea. “What terrible things have you done that Sarah and I should avoid your pumpkin patch?”
At hearing her name, my toddler squirms in my arms, making me regret following the rules that dictate shoppers should not allow children to ride inside of grocery carts.
Expecting him to laugh and brush off the silly idea that he’s done something to earn the status of town pariah, I’m surprised when he answers with, “It’s a long story. I’m sure you’ll hear it from someone around town eventually.”
I don’t know him well, but I do know one thing. Henry helped keep my Sarah entertained at the state fair while I was there to support my best friend Rocket, who was competing for the title of Butter Queen. If it weren’t for him making my toddler laugh and buying her fair food and briefly running off to win her a stuffed unicorn — all with my permission — that day would have ended early for us with a major toddler meltdown.
The only thing I regretted about that day was not getting his phone number in the midst of all the drama that unfolded that day. And Sarah did demonstrate that she’d had enough before the end of the pageant; when a toddler needs to leave the premises, she must leave immediately.
So imagine my delight at seeing Henry at the grocery store, albeit arguing with a grocery store manager about whether or not he had the right to post fliers. I’ve seen a lot of odd, cliquey behavior in my short time of residing in this town, so Henry is a sight for sore eyes.
I wince when I see he’s not kidding around about supposed rumors. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful,” I say.
He shakes it off and changes the subject when he sees my job application in the cart, mingling with my small haul of groceries. “Looking for a job?”
I nod my head yes. “There’s not much for me to do here, and I’m hardly qualified to work retail but…” I start to explain, but he cuts me off with a surprise proposition.
“If you want a job at the pumpkin patch, it pays better. It’s seasonal but you can start tomorrow and…uhm…there’s always lots do to year round.”
The pink flush in his cheeks tells me the year-round part is a lie. And also, I doubt a locally-owned pumpkin patch and corn maze would pay better than the grocery store, but something tells me he just doesn’t want me working here. Like maybe he’d be sticking it to that pinched-face manager if I came to work for him instead of the supermarket.
Well, I’m not above showing a little pettiness. So far, I like Henry better than most people I’ve met here. Even if he does have a secret scandal I know nothing about.
I’m also desperate for a job; my savings are almost running out. A job that starts tomorrow is better than slogging through an application and interview process.
Henry’s kind face, honey-colored beard and flannel shirt that hugs his wide shoulders do not deter me from accepting the position under him, either, that’s for sure. As unethical as it might be to date one’s employer, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy some eye candy while I’m …
“Wait,” I ask. “What will I be doing, exactly?”
He flashes a congenial, laid-back smile and describes all the duties involved. It sounds like a little bit more physical labor than what I was expecting, but I’m up for a challenge.
“I’ll do it,” I say. “I’d love to be under you. Work under you. I mean…yay, I have a job!” And now, I’m blushing harder than Henry.
He’s so happy I’ve accepted, and I’m so happy I have a job, that the two of us clunk our heads together as a result of a spontaneous, ill-advised attempt at a hug.
“Ow,” I say, laughing.
“Oof,” he says, reaching out to touch my head but then stopping short of it. “Are you OK?”
Sarah is laughing at both of us. “I’m fine, and you?”
He smiles down at me. “I’m perfect,” he says.
Henry hands me a flier with the address and phone number, and we agree on a time for me to start my duties in the morning. Sarah grabs the paper and immediately tries to bite it. “Sarah, no-no!” I say, gently retrieving the paper from between her chompers.
My new boss walks me and Sarah to my car, and then loads my groceries in the trunk for me. Then, he simply stands there, looking around, like he’s watching for other people.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I say.
He nods. “Sure thing. I’m just going to …wait here until you’re safely in your car with the doors locked, if you don’t mind?”
I cock my head. “Is there a serial killer on the loose in this town, or what?”
He shakes his head and chuckles. “No. I just…well…I actually don’t know why I’m doing it. It’s silly, I guess.” He rubs the meat of his palm against his sternum, his face seeming confused at his own actions.
Moments later I’m strapping Sarah into her car seat, both she and I wearing dopey grins on our faces. “No, no,” Sarah says, wagging her finger at me, apropos of nothing.
I sigh heavily as I buckle myself in, lock the doors, start up my beater of a car, and wave goodbye to Henry. I watch him walk away with the gait of a chilled-out man who is in no hurry.
; “I know, Sarah. I know. Dating my boss is a no-no,” I whimper.