I blew out the breath I’d been holding.
“What is this?” He held up a small amber bottle.
So much for staying steady. When he turned, and his gaze found mine, I practically melted.
“They’re essential oils,” I said, motioning to the matching bottles behind the black marble sink. “You pick the scent that you like best, and I mix it in the oil for the massage.”
“This one, specifically,” he said.
I approached, and took the small glass bottle, uncorked it, and breathed it in.
“Sandalwood,” I said. “It’s supposed to be calming.” Unless inhaled in concentrated doses, when it became an aphrodisiac. I wasn’t going to tell him that, though. The small, dim space was already brimming with sexual tension.
“It smells like you.” He slid closer and leaned down, the tip of his nose running down the wildly pulsing vein in my neck. “I can’t get it out of my head.”
He backed me into the counter, hands on either side, and eased his body against mine. He was so warm, even through the layers of our clothing, and his muscular chest rubbed my nipples to peaks. I nearly groaned from the pressure of his heavy cock against my belly. My breath came out in a shudder.
“Is this what you want?” I tried to focus, but it was quickly becoming impossible. “The oil, I mean. Is that what you’d like me to use on you?” I set the bottle down on the counter before I dropped it.
He pulled back and smiled wickedly. “Always with the teasing.”
Unexpectedly, he lowered and cupped the back of my legs with his strong hands. In one fluid motion, he lifted me up to straddle his hips. From this position, the soft parts of me found his hardness, and the friction alone was enough to bring me close to orgasm. I gasped, unable to hide the reaction as the blood rushed to my cheeks and the dampness flooded between my legs. My calves flexed around him and I grabbed his shoulders, eliciting a hiss through his teeth.
My skirt bunched around my waist as he turned and set me on the end of the table. When he stepped back, I had to bite back the groan of frustration. I was on fire, my breasts heavy and sensitive. If he didn’t kiss me soon, I would die.
He removed one of the black patent-leather ankle boots I was wearing. Not the wisest choice for working on your feet, but they matched my outfit, and today I’d dressed to kick ass. As he removed the other shoe, that well-laid plan crashed through the floorboards.
“What are you doing?” I whispered as his fingers skimmed over the bare strip of skin between my rumpled skirt and the straps of my garter belt. He unhooked both of the fastenings with a flick of his fingers. One smooth, practiced move. He’d done this before.
My gaze shot to the door. I was at work. I couldn’t do this.
But one of his fingers slipping beneath the top of my thigh-high made me forget everything but him.
He eased it down, fingers grazing the inside of my leg and tickling the sensitive skin behind my knee. When he got to my calf, he stopped, and began again on the other side.
“I told you,” he said, and I trembled as his fingertips came close to my sex. “I’m making it up to you.”
Embarrassment flushed through me. My desire was obvious, and I was making no attempt to cover myself up.
He knelt, his head even with my throbbing clit. Gently, he pulled the nylons free and left them in a puddle on the floor. My chest was rising and falling, my heart beating wildly. I held absolutely still, scared he would do what I thought he was about to do, but at the same time petrified that he wouldn’t.
He rocked back on his heels, and took one foot in his hands.
“I’m giving you a foot rub.”
The air whooshed out of my lungs. Oh. A foot rub. Of course. Automatically, I went to cover up my exposed hips.
“Don’t.” The word was hard, a command, and I froze at the sound of it. “Leave your skirt up. I want to see you.”
Slowly, I moved my hands back behind me, and rested on straight arms.
He began to knead my arches, working to the balls of my feet and then my heels. He had talent, I couldn’t deny it. In seconds, I was practically putty in his hands. I hadn’t realized how sore my feet were until he’d begun.
Minutes passed, and his silence began to make me nervous. Did he have a foot fetish? Was this something he did to get off? Or was this truly just for me? Still, the feel of his hands working my sore muscles was incredible. I didn’t want him to stop.
“Do you accept my apology?” he finally asked. There was something endearing about this sexy man kneeling on the floor, touching me this way.
I nodded, still unable to speak. When he went to the other side, I sagged, my head tilting back. But when his tongue slid up my instep, I sat bolt upright. He kept kneading as though he’d done nothing different, but the move sent bolts of electricity straight up my legs into my core. Instantly, the ache became a throb; it was almost painful that he wasn’t touching me where I needed him most. For one crazed moment, I considered doing it myself. One rub, that was all it would take to push me over the edge, I was sure of it.
“Good,” he said. “Because you still owe me.”
As I looked down my body into his eyes, I knew he intended to fuck me. Right here. Right now.
I shook with anticipation and trepidation. A tiny part of me was aware of the people in the adjoining rooms, of my coworkers and friends on the other side of the salon. The doors didn’t lock, and though the music was on, the walls weren’t soundproof. But the rest of me needed him to finish this, to take me now before I lost my mind completely. The feeling was completely foreign; I never gave up control when it came to sex. Sometimes I pretended to, sometimes I even came close, but until this moment I’d never needed anything so badly that I’d let my guard down enough to take it.
He kissed my ankle, then my calf, his tongue drawing a slow circle on the inside of my knee. He pulled me closer to the edge of the table, and my hips began to churn and move of their own accord. I couldn’t wait much longer.
“Hurry,” I whispered.
He stopped, and pulled away.
I blinked down at him.
“I have a full hour,” he informed me. “I intend to use it.”
An hour? I wasn’t going to last thirty more seconds the way this was going.
He started again, fingertips tracing up my thighs and higher to my panties. Tender kisses covering the inner surface of my thighs. He made me feel wanted, worshipped, even loved, though I knew that couldn’t be right. Love was not something I expected to feel with men I brought to bed.
But I hadn’t brought him to bed. We weren’t even on a bed.
With a jerk, he thrust my legs open, leaving me straddling his face, just inches away. All concerns evacuated from my mind. My legs hung down, unable to reach the floor, puppets to his placement. His touch grew soft again, skimming the backs of my calves. He licked a straight line up my inner thigh, stopping just short of the mark, and then nipped the flesh with his teeth.
I groaned, fisting the now crumpled sheets, unable to look away from his exquisite torture.
“Are you going to tell me to stop?” He pulled back, staring up into my eyes.
Was he joking? I shook my head, back in that terrible cycling dream where he backed away every time he got close to giving me the intimate touch I so craved.
“Good,” he said. “Because I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I first saw you.”
He bit me lightly again, and I gasped.
“So do it.”
“Patience,” he cooed. “I’m going to take care of you.”
My muscles were beginning to flex and shake. I couldn’t hold still.
“Easy,” he whispered, breath hot on my skin.
Finally, his thumb trailed over my slit, and I bucked against his touch.
“You’re so wet, Anna,” he growled. “I can feel how wet you are for me. I can see it, soaking your panties.” He stroked me again and I quivered. “Look how ready you are.”
&n
bsp; He drew back, licking my opposite inner thigh. Every time he got closer he backed away.
Payback. So this is what he meant.
“Please.” I would have gotten on my knees and begged if he wasn’t already there.
He looked up, dark eyes blazing. Very slowly he kissed my damp, aching center, right through the fabric. My sex clenched. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.
“Is this what you want?” He kissed me again. “Is this what you need, Anna?”
“I need you inside me,” I said, shocked by my own admission.
He pressed his lips against my panties and laughed, the rumble nearly sending me to pieces. I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out.
“Soon,” he said, growing serious. “When I have more time, I’m going to fuck you just how you need. Long, and hard, and over and over. You’re going to give me all of this sweet, hot body, and I’m going to take it. And just when you think we’re done, I’m going to make you come again.”
His words made me that much more desperate. I had never been so hot for someone before. In that moment, I would have done anything he wanted.
“But for now, you owe me this. I can’t get you out of my mind, Anna. I need to see you come. I need to taste you.”
I reached for my clit, unable to stop myself, and he grabbed my wrist, and moved it aside.
“This is mine right now, do you understand?”
I nodded reluctantly.
“This,” he licked me through the fabric and I moaned, “is payback.”
Softly, he bit at the silk, now soaked with my desire, and pulled it back. My knees snapped shut but he wedged them open with his broad shoulders. His fingers slipped within the elastic and eased down my cleft, staying on either side but not entering me.
Then he pushed aside the satin and blew. The cold air on my hot skin brought new sensitivity, and my back arched.
“So smooth,” he said. “I wondered if you waxed.”
I’d begun to pant. He was taking his time and killing me in the process.
“There are perks to working at a salon.”
“You’re beautiful.” He parted my folds, exerting pressure with his thumbs as he massaged up and down. I don’t know where he learned that little trick, but I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming.
Finally, one finger pushed inside of me. It was enough to drive me right to the brink. He eased out slowly.
“So tight,” he said, face taking on an almost pained expression. “I can’t wait to slide my cock in you, Anna. I’m going to fill you completely.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He added a second finger, twisted, and gave my clit the lightest pressure with his thumb. All the while he watched my face, watched as I fell back to my elbows and squirmed on the table. He paused only to draw my panties down my legs and leave me bare, exposed.
“Fuck, you’re hot.” He lowered his head to suckle one lip, then the other, tongue flicking into my slit just long enough to make me insane. So close—he was so close to my clit, but each time I thought he would kiss me there, his thumb returned to cover it, as if hiding it from his tongue. His lips pressed against my bare mound.
“Do you want to come now, Anna?”
“Yes.”
He leaned down and replaced his thumb with his mouth. One suck on my clit and I shattered, back arching, and shoved a fistful of sheets into my mouth to muffle my scream. The heat inside of me erupted, flooding fire through my veins, centering the pleasure in my nipples and cunt. I saw stars. My knees snapped shut around his head, and he pinned me down in place with his free hand.
“Again,” he said.
“No . . .” I grabbed a fistful of his hair, and tried to push him back, but he’d begun to lick in long strokes, pulling me into his mouth for another suck after each one. “I can’t so soon.”
He didn’t cease; the movement of his tongue changed to a fast flick, and already I felt the ache building inside of me again. His fingers increased their tempo, in and out, in and out, curving and rubbing upward in a way that made me groan. I squeezed my breasts to relieve some of the pressure. Then his tongue was spearing inside of me as his hands spread me wide. No one had ever done that to me before. Little scrapes of his teeth sent ripples of heat through me.
“You taste so good,” he muttered between thrusts, and then returned to my clit, swirling over it.
The orgasm tore through me, unyielding spasms making my body a taut bow. I couldn’t breathe. I could only feel. The blood was rushing through my ears, blocking out the soundtrack of rain coming through the speakers.
He didn’t stop, and my oversensitive sex convulsed again, bringing on a third climax right on the heels of the second. His fingers continued their assault, pushing up to the palm, and I clenched around him uncontrollably.
It didn’t stop. I kept coming. Writhing, bucking, kicking.
“Anna.” My name brought me back.
I collapsed, my back hitting the table while my chest heaved. Sweaty hair stuck to my face. He brought me back down, fingers easing in tempo, tongue drawing slow, lazy circles around my pulsing clit. He finished with one soft, reverent kiss there, and another on my thigh before moving over me.
I tried to rise, but my arms were weak. And as I pushed myself up to a seated position, I wobbled. He caught me before I collapsed, pressing his lips to my collarbone. His arms wrapped around my waist and I clung to him weakly, letting him support my weight, and for several minutes he held me until the shaking had passed.
“Damn,” he said. “I should have booked the rest of your afternoon.”
I giggled, feeling completely reckless and light as a feather. “Now that I know what’s in store, expect a lot more teasing.”
His teeth found my earlobe, reminding me that he’d yet to kiss me.
“Payback’s a bitch,” he whispered into my hair, breathing deeply. His fingers traced my spine, and with his hips and still raging hard-on nestled between my thighs, the move felt more intimate than anything I’d ever experienced.
The sheets were a mess; a blanket had landed on the floor. He moved back, creating a space between us, and I lowered my hands down his chest to his belt, feeling the need to touch him.
He stopped me with a tight grimace.
“Not now,” he said. “Soon though.”
I liked the promise in his tone.
“I want to make you feel good, too,” I said, unfamiliar with the vixen I’d suddenly transformed into.
“You did.” He moved my hands to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “I think I enjoyed that as much as you.”
“I doubt it.” I could see from the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the bulge in his pants that he was still painfully aroused. This surprised me; I’d never met a man who enjoyed giving oral sex so much.
The sound of rain transitioned into symphony music, bringing me back to where we were, and what we’d just done.
“I want to see you tonight,” he said.
I wanted to see him, too. If this was a preview of what was to come, I wanted to leave work now.
But I had already committed to Amy. I considered canceling, but I needed a chance to cool off, to let the anticipation build again. What I was feeling for him felt too intense. I needed some time and space to make sense of it.
“Sorry, girls’ night,” I told him. “I’m free tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow night you have an appointment with my boss.”
He stepped away, and the heat departed with him. A veil of awkwardness slid between us. I smoothed my skirt, feeling the slickness between my thighs. I wasn’t wearing any panties. I searched the floor, but instead caught a glimpse of red fabric peeking out of his jeans pocket.
The thought of him keeping them like some kind of trophy turned me on all over again. I retrieved my stockings and pulled them up while he straightened his shirt. He wouldn’t look at me. Just seconds ago I’d felt so connected to him, but now he was distant. Cool.
I
picked up the sheets.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to see Mr. Stein until next week.” I asked, focusing on his words.
“And here I thought it was just me you were ignoring.” He straightened the bottles on the counter, his back to me. “Ms. Rowe called. So did I.”
I hesitated. “You did?”
“After you turned down my coffee, I had to get your attention somehow.” He helped me retrieve the sheets and pile them on the table.
“Well, you succeeded,” I said. “So tomorrow night, what time does Ms. Rowe need me?”
“Early, I think. Six. Let me have you afterward.”
Let me have you. I closed my eyes for just a moment to imagine what that might mean.
Our time was drawing to a close. I had another client coming. Still, I couldn’t convince myself to move any faster.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead.
“Tomorrow night,” he murmured. “We’ll see if I can survive that long.”
With that, he fixed his pants to make his hard-on slightly less obvious, and sauntered out the door, leaving me staring at a table I would never look at the same way again.
Nine
Four hours later, I pulled into a guest spot at Amy’s apartment complex and climbed the steps to her second-floor two-bedroom home. The remainder of the workday had passed by excruciatingly slowly. Convinced someone had heard or seen something, I stayed as hidden as possible, keeping myself to laundry duty until the receptionist found me for my next appointment. I had even managed to avoid Amy, who’d left early to pick up her daughter from preschool.
I couldn’t believe what I—we—had done. I wasn’t a prude by any means; I liked to flirt, and even bring the occasional man home to share my bed. Okay, it had been a while, but that was just because I’d been getting used to the area. But despite that, I wasn’t particularly adventurous in that arena. The woman who had climaxed not once, but three times, at her workplace was no one I even recognized.
That I wanted to do it again confused me even more.
Alec was right; he had called. Twice. When I turned my phone back on, I’d seen his missed calls, and listened to two voice mails. One from Ms. Rowe explaining that Mr. Stein was in the midst of a large merger right now and therefore in need of my services. She’d given the time and date—tomorrow night, just as Alec had said—and asked that I be there. Clearly she was a woman who wasn’t used to hearing the word no.
The Masseuse Page 7
