Peppermint Creek Inn

by Jan Springer

It took every ounce in his being not to do it.

  “Baked you that peppermint cheesecake you hinted at during our picnic.”

  The wonderful picnic. He could still imagine the sweet taste of her velvety cream gushing against his lips, as he’d tongue-fucked her on that quilt. It seemed so long ago.

  Her cheeks were flushed in the moon glow as her gaze riveted to his engorged erection. Oh God! He wanted to take her into his arms so bad, the hurt twisted through him like a sharp knife.

  “How’d you find me? Did Garry tell you?”

  “You left this behind.” She held up an old rusty tin pot he’d found in one of the Jackfish buildings. He’d been sure she would enjoy fixing it up and entering it into one of those contests. He’d left it in her painting loft, sure she wouldn’t be going up there for at least awhile now that she was too busy with the new log building of Peppermint Creek Inn being erected.

  He kicked himself for not being more careful. It had been a stupid gesture now that he thought about it. And it could very well have signed her death warrant.

  “Were you followed?”

  “No. I took every precaution. You know it’s still a bit cold for camping out in a boathouse all by yourself. Don’t you think you should come home? Have some of this yummy cake?”

  She held the box up.

  Matthew swallowed the tightness suddenly clogging his throat.

  Home. Home-baked food. Sara.

  It sounded so good. So safe. But with him around, her home would only turn into a death trap. He’d almost gotten her killed once. He wouldn’t take the chance again.

  He willed himself to stiffen against the love that shone like jewels in her eyes. He had to tell her why it had to be this way. Why they couldn’t see each other ever again.

  Why he could never go home with her.

  “Before I went undercover to work for Robin, I dreamed of a life with a woman like you. I dated. Came close to getting married. Once. But she couldn’t handle my being a cop. And I wouldn’t give up my work. She settled on a plumber instead.”

  Sara stood still. Barefoot and picture pretty as she smiled at him. A sensual smile.

  “So what are you trying to tell me?”

  “I was an undercover cop. A lot of the time I had to wear a wire. A hidden microphone hooked onto a recording device. I slept with my eyes open. I carried two guns besides my police issue one. Both were ‘throwaway’ guns, in case I needed to kill someone in self-defense. We couldn’t afford any questions that could break my cover. One I hid in my boot, the other small enough so I could hide it with the wire. Both the wire and gun were taped to my groin.”

  “I guess you can’t go to the bathroom while you’re working,” Sara whispered softly.

  Dammit, the woman wasn’t getting the point.

  “I went by a different name while I was undercover. If they find out my real identity, everyone in my family, anyone around me, could get killed. I’m known now as a rat, a cop who broke the code of silence. I crashed through the blue wall the police hide behind and now I’ve got many enemies who would love to see me squirm as they slit your throat.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “You should be.” Matthew sighed. “What it comes right down to is, I’m not husband material. Not even good father material.”

  “Are you finished?”

  “No.” Matthew took a deep breath and forced his voice to grow cold, emotionless.

  “You were just a distraction for me, Sara. A one night stand. Heck, a two night stand. I don’t love you,” he lied. “There’s nothing between us. Please, just leave me alone.”

  He couldn’t bear to go on. The words had impacted her strongly. He could tell by the way her face turned milky white. He’d done his job, and it made him sick to his stomach.

  Quickly, so he wouldn’t change his mind, he brushed past her stock-still form.

  —

  Sara found him inside their boathouse. The same one they’d made love in during their stay at Jackfish.

  He was packing.

  “Why are you lying to me?”

  “I’m not.” He didn’t look up.

  She watched him roll the sleeping bag up. With madly shaking hands, he attempted to tie it up with its attached strings. After a couple of attempts he succeeded, then quickly shoved it into its carrying case.

  “You’re scared, aren’t you?” Sara asked.

  Matt stopped cold. He straightened and faced her.

  Pain, and hurt and fear shone bright in his emerald eyes.

  “Yes. Scared shitless,” he admitted. He didn’t reach out to her. But he wanted to. She could read it in his eyes. He wanted to and it was killing him not to.

  “Matthew—”

  “What if it happens again, Sara? What if some guy who’s got it in for me comes gunning for me and gets you instead?” His eyes grew wide with panic. He shoved a shaky hand through his hair. “What if it happens and—”

  “Listen to me. You’re living with ‘what ifs’. What if this happens? What if that happens? What if it doesn’t happen, Matt? What if it doesn’t?”

  “What if it did?” his voice caught. He sat down on top of his rolled sleeping bag, looking up at her. His mouth clenched tight.

  He was shaking. Shaking so hard.

  “Stop it! Just stop it! Don’t listen to those ‘what ifs’. Because if you do, they’ll drive you to grab your gun and put it to your head. You don’t want that to happen do you?”

  Matthew let out a long breath. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

  At his answer, she felt the anger inside her unleash itself.

  “No! It’s not! Damn you! It’s my life, too! No one has the right to say how I live it. No one. Just me. Do you understand?” She ignored his shocked look. “My God! You don’t own me. I had a life before I met you, and I’ll have a life if you don’t want me. But I want you in my life. Danger. Risks and all. I love you for who you are. Not what you do.

  “So why don’t we just sit back, enjoy each other’s company and see what happens? But if you don’t want me, if you truly don’t love me, at least look me square in the eye and tell me! At least have the guts to do that!”

  For a long time, he didn’t speak. He sat stiff as a board upon the rolled sleeping bag, his jaw clenched so tightly, Sara noticed the muscles in his cheeks twitch abnormally.

  Behind him, a flash of lightning lit up the glassless window, but she wasn’t afraid of the storm brewing outside.

  She was afraid of the storm inside him.

  His answer terrified her. What if he did look her in the eye and tell her to get lost?

  She’d come here with full intentions of fighting fiercely for him. Could she let him go so easily as she’d said? Could she simply turn around and walk away?

  Rain began to pitter against the moss-covered shingles on the roof. She barely heard it. She scarcely felt the cool, misty drizzle sprinkle against her bare arms as it blew into the boathouse through the open window.

  The cool wind did little to soothe her hot tears.

  He wasn’t going to say anything. He was going to let her walk away.

  Her body began to tremble. Not because she was cold, but because she had been wrong about Matthew. She’d let him into her soul. Inside her heart. And now he was ripping her heart apart. Not by his words but by his silence.

  How can she fight silence?

  Feeling as if she might collapse, Sara turned to leave.

  “Life without you is impossible. I do love you, with all my heart and soul.” His hoarse whisper made her turn around.

  He was standing now. Tears glimmered in his eyes.

  With one shaky hand he reached out, his trembling fingers were cold as he gently brushed away the tears gushing over her cheeks. Then, without warning he swept her into the safety of his loving arms.

  “I’m sorry I left you,” he whispered softly against her ear. “Seems like I’ve wasted a lot of time.”

  “You needed the time, Matthew. Just
don’t ever leave me again. Promise me?”

  “Okay. Okay. I promise,” he chuckled then his voice grew serious again. “We can probably never go home. I hope you know that. I’ll be living like this. Out of tents. In safe houses all over the world. Moving all the time. I have to testify because of all the evidence I’ve collected over the years. It could take years. I’ll be taking a lot of people down.”

  “I’ll go anywhere with you. For as long as it takes. For better or worse.”

  “But what about Peppermint Creek? Your peppermint product business?”

  “I’ve already recruited Garry and Hilda. They’re moving into the house as we speak. And I’ve rehired a couple of last year’s peppermint helpers to assist them with the ins and outs of the business end of things.”

  “You think of everything.” He softly brushed his lips against hers. A scorching brush that left her aching for more.

  “I don’t want to be apart from you anymore. I want you to make love to me,” she whispered, desperate to feel him inside her again. Anxious to feel his love.

  Without hesitation, his trembling fingers were at the front dress buttons. In seconds, his warm hands were sliding inside the opening, cupping her quickly swelling breasts.

  Immediately her nipples grew harder, desire pulsed in her pussy.

  Oh, God! It felt so good to have him touching her again.

  “I’ve quit this undercover stuff. When the trial is over, if it’s safe, we might be able to move back to the inn and raise our kids there, but the chances are really slim.”

  “As long as we’re together we can live anywhere.”

  He grinned his gorgeous crooked grin that left her breathless. His gaze dropped to the box containing the cake she held in her hand.

  “The cake can wait,” Sara whispered huskily. Her fingers let go of the string and the box dropped at her feet. Hopefully the fall wouldn’t totally ruin it, but at the moment she didn’t care. She had more important things to do, like make love with the man of her heart.

  She found herself eyeing the ropes dangling at the moorings. One of her fantasies zipped into her thoughts. A fantasy of him tying her down, of being his sexual hostage. Of him taking her in the ass from behind as he’d once said he’d do the last time they’d been in this boathouse.

  She heard his breath quicken as he followed her gaze, his eyes flared with arousal and understanding.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, his fingers tweaking her hard, aching nipples to this side of pain. His firm mouth felt like an aphrodisiac as his warm lips slanted over hers. She trembled against him when the hard head of his huge cock prodded against her quickly drenching pussy lips.

  Oh, yes! She’d missed this.

  She’d lain awake in bed, alone every night, the erotic scent of him on her pillowcases, her vibrator never enough to satisfy the sexual cravings he’d unleashed during their brief time together.

  Now she had him back and she wanted him to fuck her senseless.

  “I’ve been wearing one of those inflatable butt plugs off and on over the past month, preparing myself for you. I took it out just before I came here,” she said softly as he broke the intoxicating kiss and unbuttoned her dress allowing her to step out of it.

  He cursed softly at her words, or maybe he swore at the fact she wore no panties and now stood totally naked in front of him. Erotic heat mounted inside her, and she trembled with a desire so fierce and wanton she just about climaxed at the lusty way his gaze caressed her every curve. He let go of her, and bent over to release the sleeping bag from its restraints. Rolling it open on the nearby single air mattress, he helped her onto her hands and knees instructing her to do a cat stretch by placing her head down, her arms lifting out over her head, her legs apart and her ass up in the air.

  She shivered from the carnal position, the wild sensations ripping through her as he tied the ropes around her wrists. Yanking at them, he made sure they were secure then he crawled behind her.

  “I dreamed of tying you down the last time we were here when I inserted the plug.”

  She turned her head and caught him grinning wickedly at her, his gorgeous eyes twinkling with arousal.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t want to scare you away.”

  “You could never scare me. I trust you. And I want you to play out your sexual fantasies with me just as I want to play out mine with you.”

  She frowned as she caught him untying the strings around the cake box.

  Suddenly anxious to have his attention back on her, she wiggled her ass at him.

  He ignored her. “Do you by any chance have some whipped cream on this cake?”

  “Oh, my God! Matt! Don’t make me wait.”

  “You look so cute when you’re desperate to get fucked.”

  She inhaled sharply as his hot fingers ran a feather-light trail of fire over her right ass cheek. With his other hand, he lifted the cake out of the box.

  “Ah perfect, whipping cream and peppermint sauce.”

  Was he nuts? Was she nuts for putting up with this delay? If she didn’t have her wrists tied she’d be straddling him right now.

  “Why are you hungry now?” she blurted out, impatience making her hornier. She watched as his fingers dipped a long swath over the peppermint syrup as he effectively destroyed the pretty decoration swirls of whipping cream she’d placed on top.

  She should be upset that he was ruining her cake so casually. Strangely enough, she wasn’t. Her gaze riveted to his engorged cock. It was flushing an angry red, the thick veins pulsing wickedly. His cockhead looked absolutely delicious with the dot of pre-come at the slit. Whatever he was thinking of doing was turning him on big time. She didn’t have too long to find out what he was up to.

  “This isn’t for me, sweetness. It’s for you. Lubrication.”

  Oh, my gosh! If she wasn’t so hot for him right now she’d be laughing at the thought of using her peppermint cheesecake for that purpose.

  He brought his fingers to his mouth, his long pink tongue licking off the cream as he watched her.

  “Tastes damn good.”

  His tongue scooped another swath off his fingers. This time he didn’t eat it. Her pulse quickened as his head lowered to her ass. His breath caressed her flesh and his fingers and tongue massaged cool whipping cream and gooey syrup over her hot ass cheeks. He scraped more of the thick cream and she groaned as a slippery finger, hot as a flame, slid over her throbbing clitoris with smooth firm strokes.

  Pleasure enveloped her at his touch. It came so quickly, so wantonly, it made her tummy clench. Made erotic heat flush inside her vagina. Lusty sensations consumed her, made her tremble.

  “They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But I always say a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and his cock. And you and your cake, sweetness, are extremely good for my cock.”

  A moan escaped her lips as his flaming finger left her swelling clitoris. She turned her head in protest and watched in awe as he began spreading the whipped cream up and down the massive length of his solid erection, covering the web of veins weaving through his cock from her view. She found herself tugging at the restraints, wanting to do the smearing herself. Wanting to touch his thick flesh, aching to lick the cream from his shaft. But devouring her lubrication wouldn’t be such a good thing. A big, thick cock like his going up her ass was going to need all the lube it could get.

  “So, what you are effectively saying is if I wasn’t a good cook, I’d be in trouble?” she teased, deciding to talk her way through her mounting pleasure.

  “That’s what I’m saying, sweetness.”

  “Do all men feel that way?”

  “I won’t answer for them,” he chuckled.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s just like me asking you if all women cook damn good peppermint cheesecakes like you do.”

  She laughed and found herself thinking about her sister Jo—about how she didn’t like to co
ok and how she should have a man like Matthew in her life. A man who made her feel special, and wanted and safe. And brought such exquisite pleasure to her like Matt did to her.

  “Does your brother want a woman who cooks?” The words popped out of her mouth before she’d even realized what she was saying.

  That erotic blazing finger of his once again slid across her throbbing clit with another healthy dose of cream, the coolness of it doing nothing to vanquish the heated sensations he’d already created.

  “He’d be a perfect match for your sister Jo,” he admitted.

  “We’d have to think of a way to get them together. Does he have the same requirements as you do about wanting a good cook and good sex?”

  She trembled when she felt a peppermint-syruped finger pierce her anal opening.

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him that yourself.”

  His long finger stretched her muscles as he explored, and she welcomed the erotic sensations of his intimate touches. He withdrew, then a moment later inserted two syrup-laced fingers. He slid in easily—his heat-seeking probes sparking off a lustful heat.

  “Would it bother him if she didn’t cook at all?”

  “I think it’s safe to say if she cooks in the bedroom as good as she cooks with her temper when she’s angry, they’ll connect in ways we’ve probably never dreamed of.”

  “Sounds promising.”

  “So does your ass. Sweetness, you are so beautifully tight. Absolutely perfect.”

  She felt the first bite of pleasure-pain as a moment later he sunk three syrupy fingers into her ass. He prepared her slower now. His fingers pressing into her, caressing her muscles, building erotic pressure against her rapidly dazed senses.

  An untamed eagerness zipped along her nerves. A carnal need she’d never imagined began to take hold of her. An intense need to have him burying his cock inside her ass. To feel him plunging into her.

  She could literally feel her vagina dripping with her desire as he continued to stroke her plump clit. An odd emptiness gripped her pussy. There was a need to be filled there, too. But it wasn’t as powerful as what was happening inside her ass.

  A moment later, he pulled his fingers out and she felt the head of his cock poised at her back entrance.