Come Play with Me Again
A MISCHIEF EROTICA COLLECTION
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
This collection is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Mischief
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
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An eBook Original 2016
Reminds Me of You © Sommer Marsden
Wet Wednesday © CeCe Marsh
Commuter Lust © Justine Elyot
Rubbed the Right Way © Heather Towne
Loose Shoes © Lily Harlem
The Cosplay’s the Thing © Rose de Fer
The Babysitter © Alegra Verde
Taking the Count © Ludivine Bonneur
For Your Eyes Only © Senta Holland
Cover image © Shutterstock
The authors assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EBook Edition © July 2016 ISBN: 9780008190255
Version: 2016-06-10
Table of Contents
Reminds Me of You – Sommer Marsden
Rubbed the Right Way – Heather Towne
The Cosplay’s the Thing – Rose de Fer
Taking the Count – Ludivine Bonneur
For Your Eyes Only – Senta Holland
‘I thought that was you.’
I looked up from my glass of Cabernet and my heart stopped. OK, not really stopped, but it did do that floppy thing it does that reminds me of a fish flailing on land.
‘Michael,’ I said, barely able to push his name out.
He sat on the high bar stool beside me and other parts of my body responded this time. I shifted in my seat and tried to take a deep breath to regulate my pulse.
‘How are you, Claire?’ He put his big hand on mine and my breath froze in my lungs. Five years had passed since we parted ways and somehow his touch still rocked me.
‘Fine.’ It came out in a near whisper. I managed to remember my manners. ‘And you?’
‘Well, I was just thinking about you the other night,’ he said.
‘Why?’ I blurted it before I could stop myself.
‘I was travelling. The ocean reminded me of you. And a bout of … stress release led to more thoughts of you.’ He cocked one dark eyebrow and the stirrings inside me turned me inside out. I wasn’t just shifting now, I was wet.
‘I see.’ It was the cleverest thing I could think to say.
‘So what about you? You still with tall, dark, and boring?’ He waved at the bartender, pointed to my wine and held up two fingers. As usual, his demand was met with an inclined head and a hurried step.
‘Be nice,’ I said. ‘Paul wasn’t so bad. He loved me.’
‘I loved you too.’
‘But a lot of us was … sex,’ I finished weakly. I’d been wooed by a more stable, ‘normal’ relationship five years ago. I’d die before I admitted that within six months I was crawling out of my skin. A kind, loving man was wonderful, but when you’re a bad girl, turned on, and you wanted – no, craved – a spanking and couldn’t get one, it was maddening.
‘How terrible,’ he said, utterly straightfaced. Then his face crinkled as he laughed.
When Michael laughs, women’s panties practically dissolve at the sound.
‘You never answered my question, Claire.’ He traced my fingers with one fingertip and a shiver worked through me. My mind went blank. Question? What question?
‘Paul …’
‘Oh, Paul!’ Then I let out a high little laugh as if I’d utterly forgotten who Paul was. ‘No. We’re not together any more. He was nice. Great. But there was something missing.’
Michael accepted our drinks from the bartender, laid a bill on the bar and leaned in to whisper