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       Sweet Spot (Plaything Book 2), p.1

           Tess Oliver
 
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Sweet Spot (Plaything Book 2)


  Sweet Spot

  Plaything #2

  Tess Oliver

  Contents

  Plaything Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  In a Bind

  More from Tess Oliver

  Brothers Sneak Peek

  Chapter 1

  Sweet Spot

  Copyright© 2017 by Tess Oliver

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Sweet Spot is Book #2 in Tess Oliver's new, insanely hot, 'Plaything' series. If you enjoy quick, super sexy escapes with irresistible alpha males this series is for you!

  Don’t miss Book 1 - Easy Come - now available

  Chapter One

  Macy

  I carefully placed the last pastry into the box and closed the lid. The sun was just coming up, but I still needed to hurry to get my bakery kiosk open so the aroma of coffee and strawberry pastry could waft along the sidewalks before people headed to work.

  My phone rang before I could pick up the boxes. Mom. It was early even by her standards, a woman who never slept late.

  A spark of worry struck me as I answered it. "Mom, is Dad all right?"

  "Why wouldn't he be all right? Although, he did have terrible heartburn last night. I warned him to go easy on the salsa."

  "Mom." I stopped her before she went through an entire narration of their evening and Dad's upset stomach. "I've got to get going. Why are you calling so early?"

  "I wanted to catch you before you left for your little bakery stand," she said it in a way that made me feel like a little girl starting a lemonade stand on the front lawn. Which I had, and I'd made a fortune because I also sold chocolate chip cookies that I made myself. That was how my knack and love for baking got started.

  "My little stand," I repeated in the same Mommy sing song tone she'd used, "has already earned me enough to pay half my bills, and it's only the first week. Of course, that's gross," I added quickly, as if net would be similar. Which it wouldn't, since overhead costs were high.

  "That's nice, Macy. Your dad and I are very proud of how quickly you bounced back from—well, from the disappointment you suffered." Her voice wavered again.

  "Mom, please don't. Do you need something? If I don't hit the road right now, I'll run into traffic."

  "Oh, I hate how much you have to work and drive and do everything on your own. If only Trevor hadn't made such a silly mistake."

  "Mom, a silly mistake is forgetting to put the milk back in the refrigerator. The groom-to-be sleeping with one of the bride-to-be's bridesmaids is a major fuck up."

  She feigned shock at my language, but she'd said far worse about Trevor after the silly mistake. "Macy, you know I hate it when you talk like that."

  "I was hoping it might bring a quick end to this conversation. If the only goal of this call was to remind me that I got jilted by my fiancé, mission accomplished. I've got to go."

  "Wait, that wasn't the reason for my call. I'll be brief. I was at the store, and I ran into your future mother-in-law."

  "Ex-mother-in-law," I said sharply. I was regretting answering the phone.

  "Right, of course. She really is a lovely woman. Oh, and she had a new Cartier diamond watch. Must have cost a fortune." Next came the disappointed sigh as my mom thought about how nice it would have been for her daughter to marry a rich man. "She says Trevor is still very broken up about the whole thing."

  "Trevor is broken up about it? Holy shit, Mom. Next time, just walk past the woman and her diamond watch."

  "Macy, lots of men do regrettable things at their bachelor parties." My mom never purposefully lied, but she did have a genuine knack for changing past events to make them fit more to her liking.

  "Mom, it was the rehearsal dinner. And Rebecca wasn't some stripper hopping out of a cake at a stag party. She was my best friend in high school." In the midst of the rehearsal dinner my ex future in laws had arranged at an embarrassingly high end restaurant, both the groom and my bridesmaid had disappeared for what seemed an inordinate amount of time for a restroom visit. My sister, Teresa, and I decided to go look for them. We found them together, screwing away in one of the posh bathroom stalls in the ladies' restroom. The truly ironic thing about it, other than the obvious, was that Trevor and I had dated for four years and during that long stretch of time, he had insisted that we save ourselves for marriage. We had never gone farther than kissing and heavy petting. It should have been a red flag for me, but I'd gone along with it, figuring it was nice not to have to worry about birth control. And so, I'd saved myself for marriage, like a dutiful girlfriend, thinking there would be some grand explosion of passion once we tied the knot. Only, in the meantime, it turned out Trevor was dealing with a terrible sex addiction. In his dramatic attempt at apologizing, he'd spilled his heart out to me, insisting that he was getting help for his problem. He claimed that he had insisted we remain celibate because he wanted to be cured. He didn't want to scare me away. That was his excuse. Now he had scared me away for good, and I was relieved to be rid of him.

  "Macy, maybe you should talk to him. I mean, think of everything you've given up."

  "I haven't given up anything, Mom. I've gained. I've gained freedom, independence and if I think about it, a good dose of happiness. I was so young when I started dating Trevor, and I got caught up in his world. Yes, it would have been nice to open my own bakery, like the one he was buying for me, but the kiosk is working just fine. So, Mom, try and be happy for me. And please don't bring up Trevor again. Now, if I don't get on the road, I will miss the morning rush."

  "All right, Macy. Drive safely and have a good day."

  "Thanks, Mom. Love you. And tell Dad to go easy on the salsa." I hung up, grabbed my keys and the pastries and headed out the door.

  Chapter Two

  Chase

  "What the fuck, Chase, I thought you were coming back to the office after lunch. We need to talk about the final copy on the website," Zane snarled through the phone.

  "I'll be back soon. Besides, I'm working. Sheila and Nina are testing out the body paints we're putting in the Color Me Hot box. So, I'm two naked women deep in some major product testing."

  I leaned back in the chair in my bedroom and, while holding the phone to my ear, I tilted my head to get a better view of Nina's ass. Sheila had painted a fairly impressive picture of a butterfly on it, with a blue and yellow wing on each cheek. Sheila leaned back to admire her handiwork. Nina wiggled her ass to give the butterfly some animation. Both girls fell on the bed laughing. A sight and sound that made my cock stand straight up.
<
br />   "I'm giving these body paints two thumbs up, along with one raging woody."

  "Well, I need your input so get finished with the art session, Da Vinci, and get your ass back to work and to my office, preferably without the raging woody." He hung up.

  I got up and walked to the bed. Body paint was smeared all over the sheet Nina had thrown over the bed. She was the first to notice my erection. She came at it with a paint brush. "Let me put a happy face on that," she giggled.

  "Think you already have. Twice," I added. "But I've got to head back to work."

  Sheila got up on her knees. Nina had painted a long arrow that pointed down to her pussy. "No, we're having too much fun."

  "I guess you both deserve a little payment for testing out the paints. First one to the shower gets my deluxe paint washing, oral sex combo package."

  Nina squealed as she shoved Sheila out of her way. She dashed to the bathroom leaving a trail of blue and yellow paint in her wake. Sheila decided to use second place to her advantage. Before I could stop her, her fingers wrapped around my cock. She licked her lips as she winked up at me. "No sense in letting this go to waste."

  I sighed in surrender. "You're right. That would be completely senseless."

  Chapter Three

  Macy

  My coffee and pastry cart, aptly named Sweet Spot, had had a long line all morning. I was exhausted, and my trays were nearly empty. All in all, another successful day. Since my cart sold mostly breakfast and late morning snack items, I was able to close up at noon. That gave me the remainder of my day to bake for the next morning. It was an exhausting work day, but I loved every minute of it.

  I'd rented the kiosk from the city. They had decided to provide vendors with food stands in the center of the city square, a crowded plaza that was surrounded by tall office buildings and high dollar apartments. It was an ideal location. There was always plenty of foot traffic. My cart stood between a smoothie stand and a hot dog vendor. The Smoothie Guy, as the stand was named, was run by Chuck, a man in his mid fifties who wore a long ponytail and sandals. The Dawg, where you could get a foot long hot dog topped with every darn condiment known to man, was run by George. He had a heavy southern accent and always wore the same white t-shirt and cargo shorts. They were great, entertaining neighbors, who, I discovered on the first day, were also in a romantic relationship.

  Chuck walked over to my cart as I began to pack up for the day. He was carrying a paper cup. "Macy, try this sample. It's got pineapple in it so I can't give it to George because his lips will swell up like balloons. I'm thinking of calling it Paradise, to go with a Hawaiian theme.

  I sipped it. "Hmm, yes, Paradise works. You should top it with a pretty umbrella."

  Chuck's attention had been diverted to something behind me. "Speaking of pretty." He looked over at George and motioned with his head. "Here comes Mr. Beautiful. Looks like he's just gotten done with an important lunch meeting."

  I turned and followed Chuck's line of sight. Mr. Beautiful, as Chuck and George had nicknamed him, was a rich, young man who lived in the penthouse of the building adjacent to the city plaza. I had to give it to my neighbors, they knew beautiful when they saw it. Aside from jet black hair and green eyes that stood out like precious stones, he was tall and well built with one of those easy, confident strides that made it seem like he was just gliding over the ground. I'd only been in the kiosk for a week, but I had yet to see the man leave or enter the building without a woman on his arm. Today, it seemed, he'd decided two was better than one.

  The woman on his left, who was having a hard time walking in her strappy heels, pointed in the direction of Sweet Spot. The man seemed reluctant at first, but eventually, the three of them walked toward my cart.

  "Ooh, looks like you're going to get your first close up," Chuck muttered through the side of his mouth. "He's a real nice guy too. I've talked to him a few times. I'm curious to know what you think." With that, Chuck headed back to his smoothie stand, his sandals slapping the brick pavers with each step. He made a point of nodding a hello at the trio.

  They stopped in front of my cart. The woman who had pointed out Sweet Spot twisted her lips in disappointment as she eyed the mostly empty trays. "How on earth do you make any money when you don't have anything to sell?"

  Mr. Beautiful pushed his sunglasses up on his head, revealing those jewel toned eyes. Chuck was right. There just wasn't any other word to use than beautiful. "I'd say she sold out of everything already." He smiled at me. "What happened to Yolanda?"

  "Yolanda?"

  "She used to run this stand. Only she sold muffins and these weird donut-like things."

  I shrugged. "I was on the waiting list, and this was the kiosk that came available. So I guess Yolanda and her weird donut-things have moved on."

  He stared at me longer than necessary, long enough for me to discretely flick my finger across my nose in case I had a pastry crumb stuck to it. Something certainly had his attention. Thankfully, the woman on his right broke the awkward scrutiny session.

  "Do you have something that's sugar free, fat free and gluten free?" the woman asked. She was one of those model thin people with long legs and perfectly shaped lips.

  I surveyed the remaining bakery treats left on my trays, as if I was actually searching them for her everything free pastry. I smiled up at her. "I've got water and black coffee."

  The other woman laughed loud enough to startle the pigeons perched on the telephone lines. The second woman was shorter and with plenty of curves. She had sparkling blue eyes that seemed to be made extra bright by colored contact lenses. "Nina, why don't you just draw in a deep breath. That's gluten free and sugar free." She stuck out a long polished nail. "I'll have that last cheese pastry and a water."

  I grabbed the pastry and a bottle of water for the woman.

  Mr. Beautiful took out his wallet. "Let's go, Nina, do you want something or not? I've got to get back to the office."

  Nina blew an angry puff from her perfect lips. "That's some thanks I get for trying out those body paints." She shifted her skin tight jeans around a bit, as if there was any free space between the denim and her body. "I think that blue paint is still in my—" She stopped and looked at me, seemingly just remembering I was standing there. "I'll have a coffee."

  I walked to the coffee pot. There was just enough for one more cup.

  "Could you add some of that hazelnut syrup?" she asked. "Oh, and a squirt of whipped cream."

  "So much for sugar free and fat free," her friend quipped.

  "You're right," Nina said. "Why stop there. Might as well clog my gut with some gluten. I'll take this last strawberry tart."

  I finished assembling the coffee and pulled out the tart.

  I looked up at the man. He must have been six foot plus because I had to crane my neck. "Would you like anything?"

  "No, I think that'll do it." He tossed a fifty dollar bill next to my cash register.

  I rang him up and reached in the cash drawer for change. "Keep it." He winked just before pulling his sunglasses back over his emerald eyes.

  Chuck and George walked over to join me as we watched the three of them stroll down the sidewalk to the parking structure.

  "That man should be walking down a runway, not the city sidewalk," Chuck practically hummed his words. He nudged me with his elbow. "What did you think? And you know he's filthy rich. He and three friends own the Plaything company."

  I turned toward Chuck with a raised brow. "Did you say Plaything? What the heck is Plaything?"

  George and Chuck laughed, and Chuck felt the need to follow up with a hug. "We need to get you back out on the dating scene, Macy. You've been off the market and out of the civilized world too long." This week, on a somewhat slow morning, I'd spilled my entire humiliating wedding story to Chuck and George. In general, they were great listeners, and I'd found they were much easier to talk to than my friends and, most especially, my mom. I'd gotten so much unwanted advice and analysis from my friends a
nd family that it had made the entire fiasco that much harder to swallow. But Chuck and George had no preachy advice to offer.

  "Plaything is a fairly new company, but it's already worth a cool billion, or at least that's what the rumors say," George continued. "It's a monthly subscription service. You sign up and each month a creatively packaged box of sensual items shows up at your door."

  "Ah, well, I suppose I should have guessed." I held up the fifty dollar bill. "And that explains the extra big tip."

  "Whooee," George crowed, "I guess Chase had an extra good lunch break up in that penthouse of his."

  "Chase? Of course. It fits." I peered up at the high rise apartments adjacent to the plaza. "Do you think that top window is his?"

  "Far as we can tell," Chuck said.

  I glanced out toward the sidewalk. My last three customers of the day had disappeared around the corner. "He's nice to look at, I'll give you that. But he is not my type. Besides, I've had rich, and frankly, I'm just not that impressed."

  "Sweetie," Chuck said, "how's that possible? That man is everyone's type."

  Chapter Four

  Chase

  It was earlier than I'd been up in months, but I was determined to get my workout routine in full swing, which meant an early morning run before the streets and sidewalks got too crowded. I walked to the window and pushed the button. The window shades lifted. The sun had barely poked through the thin clouds layered over the horizon. At least at this hour I'd beat the heat.

  As I pulled my gaze from the window, movement below in the city plaza caught my attention. It was the girl with the pastries and coffee.

  The early morning sun glinted off the dark pink sign on her kiosk. Sweet Spot. It was a great name for a bakery cart. I watched for a few minutes while she bustled around in her white shorts and blue t-shirt, filling her trays from boxes she'd carried to the stand. The day before, when she'd stared up at me with her big brown eyes, something about her expression struck me. Aside from the obvious, that she was extremely pretty, something else had caught my interest. I just couldn't put a finger on it.

 
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