Free Springer, Jan - The Pleasure Girl [The Desperadoes 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Jan Springer

his scorching gaze dropped to the area where the robe had been left open as per his request. He licked his lips, and the sight of his tongue had her just about squirming in her chair wanting to squish her aching pussy against her seat in an attempt at some sort of release. God, he seemed like some sort of drug to her. And the exotic way he’d touched her had her wondering if he wanted her hooked on him.
    “What are you thinking?” he asked, his gaze now back on her face. His eyes had a nice twinkle to them, and she recognized it as curiosity.
    “Well, I am wondering who you are. Where you come from?” she admitted. And why am I reacting so much to you?
    He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, giving her the impression he didn’t like her question. Well, tough.
    “I am a man who comes from here and there.”
    “Hmm, here and there and everywhere, right?”
    He winked in answer and helped himself to more bacon and potatoes.
    “What kind of work do you do?” she asked.
    “Let’s just say I’m a traveling salesman and leave it at that.”
    “A seller of bacon, no doubt.”
    He grinned. “No doubt.”
    “Mystery man.”
    “It keeps the ladies curious and interested.”
    I’m sure. A fissure of jealousy at the thought of him being with other women reared its ugly head. Suddenly she needed to know this man. Needed to peel away the layers of mystery he hid behind.
    “Where were you when it happened?” she asked. By the way his shoulders tensed and the fork full of food halted midway to his mouth, she could tell he knew what she meant. She also realized her mistake. Never ask personal questions of your clients. It helped keep the relationship strictly professional and kept an emotional barrier between them. But she realized she’d never wanted so badly to crash through that wall he’d just erected.
    “Let’s say it was a bad day for everyone and leave it at that.”
    She nodded jerkily, but questions began to form in her mind. Did he have a wife? Girlfriend? Kids? He had to be around her age. Maybe he had had a family and they all died? Just like hers had died. All turning to ash or dust or whatever one called it when one simply self-combusted.
    Remembering how she’d found dust on her parents’ kitchen chairs when she’d gone searching for them made the bacon and potatoes she’d been chewing turn into a flavorless cloth. She struggled to swallow it. Left the rest on her plate. Best not think about family. Best to live in the present. He was right. It was best to leave it.
    He continued eating, his watchful gaze on her, but he remained silent. That is until he finished.
    “I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up.”
    He pulled his saddlebag closer, reached in, and to her surprise and delight, he pulled out a tin of peaches.
    “Oh my God. They’re making canned fruit again?” she asked as she took the heavy tin into her hands and read the paper pasted to it. Made in Florida . No way! She’d heard that Florida was a cold place now and all the citrus trees had frozen and died.
    “Actually, no, I picked it up a few days ago. It was made before the Catastrophe, but I’m told it’s still good. Shall we find out?”
    Teyla nodded and he produced a can opener from his bag. My, the man came well prepared, didn’t he ?
    He chuckled. “Cost a pretty penny. Hell, I never thought a can of peaches would be worth the same amount of money that a car used to sell for before the catastrophe.”
    Alarm bells once again whispered through her head. Where did a man get so much money? Illegally was the only answer she could come up with. But how unlawful was illegal?
    Who cared. It wasn’t her business where he got his money. He was her client and that was all that mattered. Right? Right, she firmly told herself. Not her business.
    Her mouth watered as he lifted the lid and proceeded to divvy up the healthy-looking peaches. They were sliced just the way she liked them. In quarters. And her taste buds literally