Peppermint Creek Inn (27 page)

He peered over at her as she gazed at the deserted shell of a building. The pained and haunted look she’d carried since he’d met her had disappeared, replaced by eyes bright with fevered excitement.

She looked so alive, so damned beautiful that it took every ounce of his strength to keep himself from pulling her into his arms and kissing those full, luscious lips, from cupping her heavy, silky breasts in his hands and tweaking her plump nipples.

His cock suddenly strained against his jeans with razor-sharp awareness and he almost groaned, almost gave himself away.

“Tom? Did you hear me?”

“Sorry?”

“I said we’ve got about two hours of daylight left here. Is there any particular area we should scout first? Anything that draws your attention?”

“Everything draws my attention.”
Especially you
, he added silently. “You pick.”

Sara smiled prettily and he could feel the lust traveling through his system, could feel his belly tighten with awareness, his cock grow thicker, harder, longer.

“All right, this way.”

He followed her up the overgrown walkway, her cute hips swaying seductively in front of him as they trudged toward an ancient-looking relic of a building with a horribly sagging roof. Climbing up some moss-covered stairs they stepped onto the creaking veranda.

“Ooooohhh, kind of spooky in here.” Tom chuckled as he bent over slightly to enter the low doorway of the semi-dark cabin interior. Cool, damp air blasted against him. “Casper, where are you, ole buddy?”

“Quiet, you’ll wake him up,” Sara whispered as she gazed wide-eyed at the debris of dented tin pots and other tin items littering the strangely tilted floor.

Tom’s eyes narrowed curiously as he followed her gaze.

“What are you looking for?”

“Antiques.”

He couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping him. “Antiques? This junk?”

Sara ignored his remark and with a shout of glee that momentarily startled him, she twisted her way through the debris, and bent over. From a nest of yellowing papers, she pulled out a slightly dented old-fashioned rusty and white enameled coffeepot.

“It’s perfect. Absolutely beautiful,” she said as she held it up and stared at the derelict-looking object with sparkling eyes.

“Beautiful?” The thing looked beyond repair. He cocked a cynical eyebrow trying to find what she saw in the rusty piece.

“One man’s garbage is another man’s treasure. Turn around,” she instructed.

He did as he was told.

“What are you going to do with that rusty old thing anyway?” he asked as he felt the flap of the knapsack lift up.

“For your information, many of my dried flower bouquets, which I set in your so-called rusty things have won first, second and third prizes at the Fall fairs.”

“Prizes?” he mumbled doubtfully.

Then he remembered the slightly dented teapots filled to overflowing with all kinds of beautiful dried flowers on the stone mantel in Sara’s bedroom. And again strewn about her living room. The same teapots that made him think of campfires and spaghetti westerns.

“That’s right. Lots of prizes,” she said with utmost confidence that made a smile lift his lips.

He sucked in a harsh breath as he felt her luscious body heat slam into his ass as she dumped her treasure inside the knapsack. His body tightened with awareness. His mouth suddenly went dry as he imagined how wet her pussy would be as his tongue slid deep into her tight channel. How hard her velvety vaginal muscles would clamp around his thick rod as he filled her right to his hard, aching balls.

“The next one goes in my pack.” Her giggle broke him from his sensual thoughts and he watched as she set upon searching for more of her prize materials. Bending over, she picked up an enamel water pitcher, and Tom cursed silently at the seductive curves of her luscious ass pressing against the tight pants she wore and wondered if she’d allow him to take her anally.

He held his breath at that thought.

He’d make her get on her hands and knees. Make her push her face into the pillows and lift her bare ass way high in the air. He’d run his hands over her velvety cheeks until she moaned for more. Then he’d slide a butt plug into her, a big plug that would prepare her for him.

Her face would be flushed—her erotic moans would drift through the air as the plastic sank into her tight depths. He’d make her wear it. Make her wait. Make them both wait. The ache of anticipation of him taking her anally would drive them both crazy with lust. When she was finally ready, he’d remove it and thrust hard into her. She’d love the pressure of his cock sliding up her ass. She’d bite back at the pleasure-pain, her breaths coming in harsh gasps as he fucked her over and over until she cried out for mercy.

She must have noticed the look of lust on his face because she was suddenly staring at him with a heated need that made his heart do a double take.

He barely heard her next words as his mind reeled from the beauty of that sexy bedroom expression on her flushed face.

“You’ll change your mind about my treasures once you see the finished product,” she whispered softly as she held up yet another junky-looking tin pot. “A lot of sandpapering,” she added softly. “A splash of aluminum paint, followed with perhaps a dusty rose color or maybe pioneer yellow or an Amish blue—”

“All right.” He cut her off, his voice sounding strangled, aroused. “I get the picture. That one’s yours. Turn around.”

Sara handed him the disgusting spider-webbed antique and he lifted the flap dumping it inside.

“Just watch out for those sandwiches I have in there. I don’t want pancakes for supper tonight.”

“Too late,” Tom teased.

He dropped the flap and she twirled around to face him. Her eyes flared with heat and he noticed the way her plump nipples were poking hard against the thin T-shirt she wore. He knew she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

Perspiration broke out on his forehead as he restrained himself. He could take her right here, right now. Push her against the crumbling wall, slide her pants and panties down and plunge his heavy, thick cock into her warm, wet cunt. Her face would scrunch up with the pleasure and he’d catch her cries with his eager kisses.

Without warning, she stood on her tiptoes and planted a playfully light kiss on his nose. Before he could grab her, she turned around and danced like a water nymph out the door, leaving him alone with a magnificent hard-on that just about made him scream out in frustration.

It was at that point he wondered if she had planned on coming here to this rustically romantic ghost town so they wouldn’t have to worry about the cops coming down the road to the inn and them being discovered at any moment.

Here they could relax.

They could enjoy themselves.

Enjoy the carnal pleasures that were pent up and begging to break free in both of them.

“C’mon, let’s go see what other treasures we can find,” she called from outside.

“You’re the only treasure I’ll ever need, sweetness,” he whispered softly beneath his breath and followed her outside.

—

Two hours later, twilight shadowed a warning to Tom that it was time to execute the plan he’d been formulating as they’d scavenged through the ghost town of Jackfish. Leaving Sara alone while she examined a three-legged stool with her flashlight in yet another deserted house, he sauntered out into the cool evening air.

Down by the moonlit Jackfish Bay he saw the cozy little boathouse they would spend the night in. Smiling, he grabbed both their knapsacks and headed into the romantic nightfall.

—

Aside from the gentle breeze rustling the leaves outside the glassless window of the debilitated cabin and the lapping water of the nearby bay, Sara found it quiet. Way too quiet.

But the silence wasn’t new to her. With the help of her shrink Smokey, she’d finally been able to come to grips with the idea she was now alone and Jack and the twins were gone. After that realization, she’d more or less settled into a relatively quiet existence at Peppermint Creek Inn, keeping the inn running with the help of some hired students and bored housewives, and going into her peppermint product business. Since Tom had entered her life with his sexy heated looks, which made her burn and yearn to be fucked, she realized she couldn’t go back to living alone.

Thoughtfully, she bit her lower lip. Today when she’d suggested they leave Peppermint Creek Inn, come here and stay at the ghost town where he had last been seen, she’d secretly planned a seduction, something he would hopefully remember if the memory of his other life came back. She was being selfish also, because she wanted memories, too. In case he remembered his past and on the off chance he forgot her like the woman who’d gotten hit in the head with a coconut in Smokey’s amnesia example, she’d at least have had Tom for one night of passion.

She craved to find out what kind of lover he would be. Would he be gentle and tender, or aggressive and fierce? Maybe he would be a sweet combination of both? From the sexual satisfaction she’d experienced from his suctioning mouth on her swollen breasts and his expert tongue inside her pussy during the picnic, he wasn’t shy about taking what he wanted. And her experience with him that night when she’d taken his thick cock deep into her throat proved he wasn’t shy about his own sexuality either.

By the heated looks he’d thrown her way today as she’d tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed, had made her hornier than she’d ever been in her life. At one point when they’d first arrived, she’d even sensed he would simply grab her and slam her against the nearest wall, rip her clothes off and start fucking her.

God, she’d wanted him to.

But he hadn’t.

The sexual need in his eyes though had been unmistakable.

Sara closed her eyes and inhaled a deep, stirring breath. She could smell the oncoming rain drifting in the air. It was cool and damp with the distinct scent of ozone. It reminded her again of that horrific day. The day Jack had been murdered and of her miscarriage. Storms would probably always remind her of what had happened.

Just on cue, thunder rolled quietly in the distance.

Sara’s eyes popped open and she looked up just in time to catch the lightning flicker briefly in the glassless window. A brief surge of adrenaline shot through her quickly followed by something new.

A surge of power. A new hope. An inner sense of strength. Some kind of instinct that allowed her to believe she would eventually get over her fears.

The fear of a relationship. The panic she felt with storms.

And now was as good time as any to start chasing away those doubts.

Digging deep down inside herself for the courage and with her hand wound tight around the flashlight, she slowly headed outside into the blinking lightning in search of Tom.

She didn’t have long to look for him. Down at the edge of the sandy Jackfish Bay she quickly spotted buttery candlelight spilling from an open windowsill of a lone boathouse. Swallowing back the flare of excitement, she headed through the gnarled grass until she reached the rotting boardwalk that surrounded the slightly tilting boathouse. Stepping onto the walkway her heart picked up a fast pace when the boathouse door suddenly opened.

He stood there.

In the growing darkness she made out the tense muscles rippling in the hard contours of his naked chest, the fine fluff of chest hair that arrowed down and disappeared beneath his low-slung jeans and led toward that enormous bulge between his legs.

She swallowed at the erotic sight.

He cleared his throat and her head snapped up to find his blazing green eyes locked onto her. Heated hunger brewed there and Sara felt her body responding with incredible speed.

Felt her breasts swelling, her nipples hardening. Her clit pulsed wickedly and her vagina grew wet with her arousal.

“You finished with your tin pot hunting?” he asked, his voice a hot sensual purr.

She found herself nodding, suddenly unable to speak.

“I’ve prepared our nest for the night. Care to inspect?”

Reluctantly she broke the magical pull of his scorching gaze, followed him inside and realized he’d beat her to the seduction. At the far end of the walkway, dark, rippling waters seeped into the ancient boathouse and splashed a soft welcome to her. A lone candle flickered in the mild breeze on one of the windowsills and streaked a creamy glow over their sleeping bags, which he’d laid wide open, one on top of the other, on the narrow wooden floor of the empty boathouse.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest at the sight. A tinge of both arousal and fear ripped through her as she noted the frayed ropes on the rusty mooring rings in the nearby wall.

Had he put those ropes on the moorings? Or had they been here already? Did he want to tie her up? Was that the kind of dark lover he would be?

“Does it pass inspection?”

She found herself trembling as he came up behind her. Her mouth went dry as he pressed himself against her backside. Her cunt creamed as she literally felt the thick length of his cock scorch against the thin material covering her ass.

What should she say? Should she ask him if he planned on tying her down and fucking her? Did she even want him to? She barely knew him. She’d never done something like that with Jack, but she’d fantasized about it a lot. Fantasized about a stranger tying her down and making love to her. Fucking her over and over again, until she was a screaming bundle of passion.

She found herself leaning into him, encouraging him, wanting him to start taking off her clothes.

“So? What do you think?” His voice sounded dark, sensual.

“I think we should maybe get out of our clothes,” she whispered.

Her pulses raced at the sharp inhalation of his breath.

She whimpered as his warm lips moved against the back of her neck. He kissed her there, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. Long fingers clasped with hers and he led her to stand over their sleeping bags. That’s when she noticed the gorgeous rusty tin teapot with a striking bundle of yellow daffodils set in it nearby on the floor.