Playing to Win

be touched. She brushed her thumb over her nipple while snaking her hand down her stomach, closing her eyes as the image of what she and Cole could do together flashed into her mind.
    Cole shouldn’t be in her fantasies. He was her new client, and thinking about him as she slid her hand inside her panties was a monumentally bad idea. But she couldn’t get him out of her head. He was who she wanted touching her. His hands would be calloused and strong, not feminine and soft as she stroked the silken folds of her sex. She wanted someone who’d demand her response, who’d know what to do with a woman’s body.
    She gasped as she slid her fingers down, teasing the folds of her pussy with the light drag of her fingernails. Would Cole be gentle with her, or would he be rough as he dipped two fingers inside her, using the heel of his hand against her clit.
    She arched against the sensation, closing her eyes and imagining him next to her, his lips closing over her nipple, drawing it into the wet heat of his mouth. She’d reach out and hold him there—her nipples were so sensitive. She’d want it harder, would need more of that delicious pain.
    Moisture coated her fingers, spasms tightening around them as she pulled them out, then thrust them inside her again, fucking herself.
    “Yes,” she whispered, digging her heels against the mattress as she lifted against the spiral of need that raged inside her. She needed to come. She needed it hard and deep. “Fuck me, Cole.”
    He’d remove his fingers and take off his clothes, leaving her throbbing and wet and pulsing with anticipation, his cock hard and ready. And when he plunged inside her, she’d cry out. It had been so long. She’d wrap her legs around him as he filled her, so ready to climax that he’d shove her over the edge in only a couple thrusts.
    “Oh, god, I’m going to come,” she whispered to the empty room as she rubbed her clit, her mind whirling with the imagined act. Cole was buried deep in her imagination, as hard as she imagined him buried inside her. She shoved her fingers deeper inside her pussy, using her other hand to strum her clit until she exploded, whimpering at the wash of incredible orgasm that sent wave after wave over her until she relaxed, limp on the bed, her legs splayed out while she caught her breath.
    Mercy. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. She got up and went into the kitchen to grab some ice and a glass of water, her legs still quaking with the aftereffects of her climax. She headed back into the bathroom, stopping to stare at herself in the mirror.
    A totally different picture now. Naked from the waist up, her hair was mussed from thrashing about on the bed. She wore only her panties and a decided blush on her cheeks.
    Good Southern girls didn’t think about new clients the way she’d just done, and certainly didn’t masturbate thinking about them. Then again, she wasn’t a good Southern girl, was she? She had naughty thoughts and wicked desires and a need for a man to bring it all out of her. Too bad she didn’t have the time—or the right guy.
    Of course, Cole Riley might have been the right guy, given the right circumstances. Tomorrow she was going to have to work withhim, and she’d just had very dirty thoughts about him. That was wrong on so many levels.
    She’d been tense lately, that was all. And had gone a very long time without a release. Cole had merely been—convenient. And attractive. And loaded with sex appeal. It had been natural for him to pop into her fantasies. But that was a one-time occasion, and it wasn’t going to happen again.
    She was going to have to wipe this event from her thoughts.
    Cole Riley was a client and not fantasy fodder.



THREE

    “ONE MORE REP.”
    On the bench press, Cole looked up at his trainer, Mario, at the moment wishing he could kick his ass. But since he currently held two hundred pounds of weight balancing precariously over his chest, he’d have to put a hold on that ass-kicking. He held the bar in his hands, sweat pouring off his brow, his arms shaking like a goddamned first-timer at the gym.
    “Come on, you pussy, three more reps.”
    He pushed, hoping like hell Mario would be there to catch the bar in case it came crashing down on his chest.
    “That’s it, Cole. You’ve got it. You’re almost there.”
    “Eat. Shit. And.” He racked the bar, sat up, and leaned over, feeling like he was going to puke. He swung his legs over the side of the