Self Service

Playtime

Priscilla was laughing breathlessly as Scott lifted her out of the tangled sheets and pulled her into his lap, his long fingers caressing her warm skin. He had enjoyed their little playtime.

Priscilla was a lot of fun when she allowed herself to be. Something he defended tirelessly. Most people believed she was a stick in the mud all the time. But he'd had her in bed and he knew better. He didn't mind her showing one face in the office and another in his bed.

"What if I start saying things like you're lucky you're so pretty?" he asked, stroking her still damp hair, mocking how she always spoke on his level of attractiveness.

It wouldn't bother Priscilla if he told her that. She knew that she was pretty, but she also knew that she was more than just a pretty face just as well as she knew that he also was aware of this fact. It didn't bother her.

"Beauty, brains, and bank. I'm the total package," she joked. "I'm not offended that you're physically attracted to me, Scott. What other reason did you think I was taking you to bed the past few years?"

"See, you need to go to bed."

"We're in bed, Scott." She raised a brow at him.

To her, going to bed was the act of actually getting into the bed. Which, she already was. She was so literal that it pissed most people off. Including Scott on the wrong day.

He bit her neck, and she half-gasped, half-moaned. He shook his head. He didn't know what he had been hoping to accomplish. But pleasure wasn't it. Yet, he couldn't be surprised that she turned out liking it. Whenever he did something a little rough, she wound up liking it. He wouldn't be surprised if he tied her up and it turned her on.

"You like that shit, don't you?"

"Possibly."

He chuckled and shook his head, kissing her lips. He knew she liked it. That wasn't the moan for when something hurt her. That was the moan when they were fooling around but hadn't gotten to the good part yet. If he bit her like that again, she'd be ready for round two.

"I haven't made you tired yet?"

After a round like that, Priscilla was usually ready to take a nap, claiming he was better than sleep medicine. She had likely only stayed awake to go and eat that damn opera cake. Her and that sweet tooth were something else. He had once checked her mouth for cavities and saw none. But he knew that with money, you could fill your cavities in white. She probably had a few.

"A little bit," she admitted, looking at the alarm clock. "But it's only eight. I'm a big girl now."

"Go to sleep," he told her, kissing her neck.

"Make me," she challenged.

Chuckling, he laid her beside him and pulled the covers over her body. He knew that she was really asking him to put it in her again, but he needed a break, and she was going to wait. "Go to sleep, Priscilla."

"You're no fun, Scott Nolan."

"I was plenty of fun when you called my name, called me daddy, and called on the Almighty."

He was going to remain smug over that for a few days. And she was going to let him have it. Just because he was good at sex didn't mean that he was the boss. All that him being good at sex guaranteed was that he would give her a few orgasms a week.

She pouted, and he put his arms around her, hearing her resist a yawn. He didn't know why she wanted to stay up so badly. Probably because it was still six in Arizona. But he had worn her out sufficiently. She would just wake up in about an hour. "Stop fighting your sleep like a child, woman."