Playing With Fire, page 1
PLAYING WITH FIRE
A FORBIDDEN ROMANCE
S.E. LAW
S.C. ADAMS
Copyright © 2022 by S.E. Law and S.C. Adams
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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CONTENTS
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Sugar and Spice
About S.E. Law
About S.C. Adams
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Magnolia: Okay, so I’m a bad girl. I decided to do a little strip tease for the teenage boy who lives next door, but after I was done, I looked out the window …
… and saw his DAD watching me!
Oh $hit!
Please tell me I’m imagining this!
But this is no joke because Ed Sterling’s seen my curves now, and the handsome alpha male wants them for himself.
Maybe it won’t be so bad though because Ed’s gorgeous, with flashing blue eyes, a broad chest, and a certain something in his pants that makes a BIG first impression. Not that I know of course …
… but it definitely feels like I’m playing with fire.
But Ed’s got babies on his mind. The older man says he’s happy to teach me the ways of being a woman …
… but what happens when his son wants me TOO?
* * *
This is a naughty tale that follows Magnolia, Primrose’s younger sister from our previous book, The Arranged Marriage. Maggie is sassy, flirty, and in way over her head. The problem? She likes how it feels with the older man even when the consequences are all too real! Put on your seatbelts for a roller-coaster ride of love, desire, and everything in between. No cheating, no cliffhangers and always a HEA for my readers.
1
Maggie
I gasp and bring my hand to my mouth. Each naked man is better looking and bigger than the last. Playgirl must take out a measuring stick before they feature these fine specimens of manhood in their publication because while I’ve seen my share, these men certainly don’t look like the ones I’ve seen in real life. The shafts here appear three times as big and twice as thick around. Is this even humanly possible or is it all Photoshop?
“It’s crazy right?” my friend Sam whispers as she peers over my shoulder, her eyes round. “Who knew?”
Sam’s my best friend, and I can tell she’s just as impressed by the male anatomy spread before us.
“I know,” I whisper. “But imagine meeting someone like this in real life! What would you even do?”
She giggles.
“I have no idea, girl. All I know is that I’m so happy I went to that yard sale with my mom last weekend. The old dude selling stuff had a stack of these magazines, and I slipped this one into my bag when no one was looking. Seriously, I wish I’d stolen more.”
“You’re so bad!” I squeal under my breath. “You’re probably the only woman in the world who’s out stealing Playgirls!”
She rolls her eyes.
“But I think the more interesting question is why did that old guy have Playgirl to begin with? Shouldn’t he have Playboy instead? Hmmm?” she asks while winking. We practically dissolve into muffled laughs, but then Sam sits up.
“Shh,” she hisses, eyes wide. “Quiet, quiet!” I look around the school library, but no one can hear us. The library has towering shelves of books everywhere, a bank of computers, plus a couple of seating areas. We happen to be at a table in the far corner, a bit removed from everyone else. If we talk low, no one can hear us.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper back. “We’re fine. Just try to look normal.”
But whatever danger she’s sensed has passed, and my friend’s already melting in her seat as she licks her lips, staring once more at the magazine.
"It’s not just the pictures, Maggie, it’s the text too. I think I want to write porn for a living," she murmurs dreamily while reading. "Look at these letters to the editor. Playgirl must pay someone to write them, they’re so unreal.”
I squint at the small text.
“What do you mean?”
Sam nods.
"See this one?" She puts her finger on the third paragraph down. "This girl has a problem because she's done the dirty deed with both her stepfather and her stepbrother. Now she’s afraid one of them is going to find out about the other, and wants to know what she should do. And how about this one?” she taps another spot on the page before throwing me a scandalized glance. "This girl is after her best friend’s father and doesn’t know how to let him know she’s available. How do they come up with this stuff? It can’t possibly be happening in real life, right? I swear, I want a job writing these things. I’d let my imagination go absolutely wild.”
I giggle because I’ve known Sam since fourth grade, and she’s always wanted to be a writer. First, it was children’s books. Then she wanted to write about teenage vampires and zombies for the YA crowd. Lately, it’s been romance novels, and specifically the really trashy ones you read on your Kindle because the covers would make you embarrassed if anyone saw. But now, I guess my buddy has graduated to porn and Penthouse letters. Why not? Hey, if you can make a living at it, then all the better.
But still, she’s hysterical, and that’s why I love Sam. She’s like a sister to me, and we tell each other everything. Not only that, but we kind of look alike too, making the whole sister vibe-thing even stronger. We both have the same curly brown hair and brown eyes, and short, curvy figures, which makes it easy to swap clothes and shoes. Plus, we both love to eat, and it’s nice to have someone who also loves pizza and hates salad.
But then, I sense movement and lift my head just in time to see a group of boys walking in our direction.
"Put the magazine away,” I hiss. “Quick! Football players at ten o’clock.”
Sam immediately fumbles with the pages, and then hurriedly shoves the Playgirl into her bag. The magazine’s probably so crumpled now that it’ll be hard to read, but anything’s better than being caught with a dirty mag in the school library.
Meanwhile, Corey Sterling, my new next-door neighbor and football player extraordinaire, steps up to our table. When he moved here over the summer, I kind of felt bad for him because he had to transfer schools senior year. But then I got to know him and now I don’t feel bad for him at all. He fits right in with all the jerks on the football squad with their swaggering bravado and amped-up steroidal physiques.
What is it with those guys? I don't know what's in their Kool Aid, but the football players act like they’re the lords of the kingdom, and they seem to expect the rest of us to kneel in obeisance. They strut around the school like princes surveying their land, and we are the mere serfs who work their farms for them. Even worse, the teen boys travel in packs because at bottom, they’re insecure. Even I, a high school girl, can tell that these boys are all brawn and no brains.
Meanwhile, Corey smirks as he nears our table.
"Hi Maggie," the boy says while running a hand through his slicked-back hair. “How's it going?"
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but I try to be polite.
"Hey Corey, I’m good. Have you met my friend, Sam? I think we’re all in English together. Or maybe World History.”
Meanwhile, Sam leans forward and gives Corey a coy finger wave.
"We’ve met."
Corey merely shrugs.
“So what’s up with you two?” he asks lazily. “You got something special in your bag?” he asks, nodding at Sam’s backpack. We share a panicked look.
"Nothing," I say quickly.
"Just girl stuff," Sam adds. “Nothing that would interest you.”
Corey gets a sly look in his eye.
"Hmm," he murmurs, looking over the table again while craning his neck. “That sounds fishy.”
I try to take the offensive.
"Well, what are you looking for?" I ask in an innocent tone, irritated he keeps trying to pry into our business. “Anything we can help you with?”
Corey shrugs.
“You wouldn’t happen to have the answer key to today’s World History quiz, would you?” he asks in a nonchalant voice. “I heard it’s been circulating.”
Both Sam and I blink hard.
“No, we don’t have it,” I say in a stiff voice. “Because that would be cheating.”
Corey merely shrugs again, his inky hair falling over one eye like an adorable puppy dog.
"Just asking. I heard someone who knows someone who got it from a friend who took the class last year, but if it’s not you guys, then it’s someone else. I love what you're wearing today, by the way. You've got those beautiful thighs showing with that short skirt. And that top. I love crop tops on girls with big tits. Very nice, Maggie."
I grit my teeth. This dude is a cheater and an
“Thanks,” I manage to grind out in a pleasant voice. Now if he would stop talking to us and just go away, this afternoon would be so much better.
Corey must think he's so charming because at my 'thanks,' his chest puffs out and he gives me a fake self-satisfied smile. Then, he runs a hand through that floppy black hair again and winks at me, like he’s Austin Powers. Who the hell winks these days? My grandpa, maybe, but definitely not anyone worth knowing.
“Well, see you around,” he calls before strolling off to his buddies. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”
With that, the gaggle of boys leaves the library, and after the door eases shut, Sam turns to me.
"Corey likes you, and it’s so obvious. He’s hot, girlfriend."
I snort.
“Yeah, but he has the maturity of a ten year old. I mean, he basically just came over because he’s a nosy bastard and wanted to see if we could help him cheat. How lame.”
Sam shrugs.
“It could be worse. I mean, Corey’s got that dark hair and light eyes combination that lots of girls find irresistible. And yeah, he’s a little thin but he’s working out and playing football. He’ll fill out.”
I shrug.
“If you like that look, then you should see his dad. You know they’re my neighbors, right? That’s how we know each other. I mean, we don’t really know each other, but we’ve met.”
Sam shakes her head.
“No, you didn’t say.”
I nod.
“Yeah, Ed Sterling moved in over the summer with Corey. I have no idea why they moved when Corey only has one year of high school left, so it’s a little weird. But if you want hot, Sam, then you have to see the dad. Ed Sterling’s got the same dark hair and blue eyes, but with a man's body. He's totally filled out and probably goes to the gym every day because he has a six-pack.”
Sam squeals.
“OMG, a six pack? Did you see him with his shirt off?”
I nod.
"Hell yeah. The other day, Mr. Sterling was moving around dirt in his yard with a wheelbarrow and he took his shirt off because of the heat. Girl, I almost fainted. His skin glistened in the sun, sweat dripping down his torso to his totally sculpted abs. It was an amazing show, and I could hardly breathe.”
Sam gasps, her eyes wide.
“Are you serious?”
I nod.
“Yeah, Mr. Sterling’s upper arms were straining against the weight of the wheelbarrow and then he stopped, wiped his face on a towel and drank out of a water bottle. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down while he swallowed his water, and I know it sounds stupid to be talking about Adam’s apples, but it was damn sexy. I wanted to run over with another water bottle just to watch him drink more."
Sam giggles.
“Do you hear yourself, Mags? You’re totally a stalker.”
I nod.
“I know, and he’s old too. I mean, he looks really good but he’s Corey’s dad, so I figure he has to be at least forty, right?”
Sam nods.
“At least. So have you actually talked to him?”
I shrug.
"Not really. Mostly I just watch because I have a perfect view of their house and yard from my bedroom window. But I’ve had a few very short conversations with Mr. Sterling in the past. Just random stuff like where’s a good dry cleaners, where’s the post office, that sort of thing. But I’ll add one more thing: I bet he could be a Playgirl model."
Sam squeals with laughter.
“How do you know?”
I smirk naughtily.
“Let’s just say that I was watching when he got out of the pool the other day, and his shorts were stuck to his package from the water. They outlined his you-know-what and that thing was huge! Like as wide as a Coke can, and definitely very Playgirl-worthy.”
Sam gasps.
“You have to find out in real life. Get binoculars for a closer look, and hell, a camera too so that you can record it and show me afterwards.”
I laugh. "You’re too unimaginative, girl. I’m thinking of finding out in more of a hands-on way, if you know what I mean."
Sam’s eyes go wide and then we both giggle.
"Are you serious? But how are you going to manage that?"
I shrug.
"I have no idea but it’ll happen somehow. I guarantee it.”
My buddy laughs again and stands up, slinging her pack over one shoulder.
“Well, it’s time to get to class, Mags, but I’m excited to hear what comes next because I know that somehow, you’ll find a way. I totally support your efforts.”
My buddy’s right and I nod while picking up my bag too.
“You’re right. I am going to find a way, and Ed Sterling will never know what hit him.”
Then, we stroll out of the library and onto our next class, already giggling and chatting about a different subject. But the truth is that I do want to see what Ed Sterling’s packing with my own eyes, and maybe even handle it with my hands too. Why not? My new neighbor may be an older man, but older men have needs too, and I’m just the girl to fulfill his fantasies.
2
Maggie
Now that classes are done for the day, I sit alone in my room, prisoner to a tight curfew from my parents. It’s all my sister’s fault. Primrose is a fantastic person, but she’s the runaway bride too. She literally left her groom at the altar to marry Barry Childers, a man she met through an escort agency. Yes, my lovely sister was an escort for about one second in Manhattan, and the one client that she actually met, she married. It’s crazy right?
But the end result is that now, my parents basically keep me locked up. I don’t know what they’re afraid of. That I’ll run off to the city, and leave them high and dry? That I’ll become an escort? Or that I’ll meet and marry a billionaire, which is what Barry is? My parents are just too sensitive because after Prim ditched her wedding, they couldn’t show their faces at the country club for weeks, they were that embarrassed.
But the result is that now, I’m so bored that I feel like my brain is leaking out of my ears. I’ve watched everything on Netflix and I’m so tired of aimlessly scrolling through the feed on my phone. My friends like to post things like a new outfit or what they ate for breakfast, and it’s really repetitive. I sigh. Even the internet feels lame these days. I suppose I could take some of my dirty clothes off the floor and separate them for washing or hanging in the closet, but I don’t feel like it. That would be too mature. Instead, I sit on my bed and stare at the mess.
Then, I stroll to the window of my room and sigh while sitting on the sill. Well, at least the sunset is really gorgeous. Actually, the sun’s already dipped below the mountains and all that’s left is a velvety purple sky dotted with diamond pinpricks. I run for my phone and then return to the window to take some photos. Hell, maybe I’ll even post them. Take that, you outfit-wearing, breakfast-eating feed. I’ll have the best picture in our friend group by a mile.
Quickly, I snap a few shots and then click ‘share.’ Great. Now that I’ve posted the sunset, what do I do? I’m still bored.
Wait a minute. I swipe through my sunset photos again. There he is! In one of the snaps that I took, I see a faint outline in one of the windows next door, and a chill runs down my spine. It must be that asshat, Corey Sterling, watching me.
But then I come up with a brilliant idea and I literally laugh out loud because it’s so clever. First, I need music. If I’m going to do a striptease, and I am, then I need the right tunes to get in the right rhythm. I’m going to put on a show for that bastard and it’s going to sting because it’s going to be all look, but no touch. Hahaha, he’ll have such aching blueballs afterwards. What a dickwad.
Quickly, I pull up Google and ask what the best music to use for a striptease. The answer is 'Lets Get it On,' by Marvin Gaye. Hmm, never heard of it, but the singer’s voice is really low and sexy, and within seconds, I’m swaying to the tune.
