The Masseuse

by Dubrinsky, Violette

  “Oh!” Lance shook his head rapidly, blond hair flying every which way for the span of five seconds. He’d been serious about that product he used in it because despite all of the neck-twisting, his hair remained perfect. “We’re just on a blind date...getting to know each other.”

  In other words, She didn’t matter.

  Oh excitement, Jezebel thought, seeing the slight humor in the situation. Meet life.

  Ramsey looked contrite as he stared between the two of them, but Jezebel had the distinct feeling that it was all for show. “I don’t mean to interrupt. You two must be getting to know each other.”

  “No!” Lance reached out as if to grab Ramsey and prevent him from moving away, but Ramsey halted and lifted a brow at her.

  “I was leaving,” Jezebel stated, having had enough excitement for the day. She stood, picking up her bag and draping her coat over one arm. “You can take my place, Ramsey.”

  Lance didn’t speak up and Jezebel didn’t need to look his way to know he was all for that. She wondered if Delilah knew her friend was gay. Well, she’d be telling her about it tonight. Delilah would laugh, and because she was sick, Jezebel would let her.

  Ramsey’s hand was suddenly at her back. She froze at the contact. “Since you’re here, I’ll just take ten minutes of your time to go over the proposal I sent you.” He looked down at Lance, who was staring at him hopefully, and offered his hand. “It was a pleasure, Lance.”

  ***

  Ramsey steered her away from her “date,” one hand applying firm pressure to her lower back when her stubborn streak raised its head. It was a trait that both intrigued and annoyed him. The annoyance must be minute because when he’d seen her seated opposite Lance, he hadn’t thought twice before approaching and interrupting. At the time, he’d believed Lance was a true date, someone she was interested in, someone she might take home or who would take her home, remove her clothes, fuck her until she was senseless, and something—he wouldn’t exactly call it jealousy—had reared its possessive head.

  He didn’t stop until they were on the other side of the restaurant, hidden behind a potted plant. He stepped into her space, and she took an unconscious step back, which made her almost collide with the plant. Ramsey caught her around the waist, pulling her forward, close to his body, and smiled. “I don’t think your date is into you.”

  Her full lips pursued angrily. “I obviously have the wrong package.”

  He grinned. She was right. Ramsey had been checked out by females and males before, and was aware when someone was doing it to him. “For him.” He licked his lips and looked to the slight V of her silk blouse. She looked like a walking Ann Taylor commercial in her business casual attire, but the violet colored blouse, though modest, still allowed for a tantalizing view of her cleavage. “But not for me.”

  Jezebel Carter was a beautiful woman but at thirty-four, and with his success, Ramsey had had his share of beautiful women. It wasn’t her face that had captured his attention, but her body. Jezebel was built like the pinup models of old, but better. Her breasts seemed large on her frame, but that was because she was well-toned, and with a flat, but soft belly. Her buttocks were a work of art. Her belly flared out just below her waist to showcase curvy hips and a full, round ass. Standing this close, Ramsey barely resisted the urge to grip it. That would be inappropriate. She was as women should be, in his opinion, curvy and healthy, and not the stick-thin that was currently being glamorized around the world.

  “Okay, we—you—are not going there.” She removed his hand from her side and tried to step around him. He didn’t budge and only smiled.

  “Are you stalking me?”

  He almost frowned before remembering that Jezebel was paranoid…almost to a fault. His employees hadn’t helped with that either, by trying to deflect attention away from him when he was out of the country. While the girl who worked the front desk wasn’t familiar with his English name, the managers and his legal team were.

  “No. If I was, I would have found you before now.” Before she could follow-up with another question, he asked, “Why did you stand me up for dinner?”

  Ramsey couldn’t say he hadn’t expected it, but he’d hoped she’d surprise him and show. When she hadn’t, he’d been disappointed, but not deterred. He’d always been tenacious, particularly when he wanted something as much as he wanted her.

  “I-I didn’t stand you up.” Jezebel shook her head but dropped her gaze to floor briefly in a manner that struck him as guilty. “I told you I wasn’t going to dinner with you.”

  He shrugged. “You missed a good meal.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Ramsey continued to stare at her. She held his gaze until finally, unable to take the intensity, she snapped, “What?”

  He grinned and asked in a low voice, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “Something.”

  “Do you enjoy being difficult?”

  “Don’t you have a date?” she groused.

  Ramsey nodded. Yes, he did have a date. He gripped her hand and headed toward said date.

  ***

  “Ramsey!” Jezebel hissed, forcing a smile on her face so as not to make a scene. If there was one thing Jezebel hated it was making a scene. You never knew who your next client would be, especially in places like these, and people were always looking for a reason to pull her down—woman, black, young. She hated giving them reasons, no matter how unfair.

  He didn’t stop until they came to a secluded corner, and an empty table. Well, it wasn’t empty. There were two plates, two glasses, and scattered loose-leaf paper, but the chairs were unoccupied. Ramsey froze, releasing her hand as he moved forward. A small, dark head suddenly popped up and giggles exploded from her lips.

  Ramsey put his hands at his waist and shook his head, but turned to look over his shoulder at Jezebel.

  “Meet my date, Jezebel,” he called, moving out of her way to give her access to the child who stared curiously up at her. Like Ramsey, she had the most captivating eyes, and looked more like a delicate bird or flower than a little girl. “Lily, this is Jezebel...Jezebel, this little imp is Lily, my niece.”

  She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. His niece. She’d thought the girl was his daughter, and with that thought had come the subconscious thought of a mother. He’d said he wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have babies...because who wouldn’t want to give him babies? She shook her head. No, she wasn’t going there.

  The child gave her a quick, unsure smile and Jezebel beamed down at her. “Hi, Lily. You’re very pretty.”

  She wasn’t that experienced with children—she had no nieces, nephews or small cousins—but she liked them.

  “Thanks.” She looked at her plate a bit shyly, before looking to Ramsey in askance.

  “Jezebel’s my friend from work, Li,” Ramsey told her with a smile. He removed his jacket from the back of an empty chair and indicated it.

  Jezebel bit her lip, knowing he wanted her to join them.

  Oh, Ramsey Stone was good. Very smooth.

  She had no problem walking out when it was just him, but the little girl was staring up at her with hopeful eyes and although Jezebel had no problem being vicious to adults, she didn’t have the heart to deny children. She’d lost much of her childhood because she’d grown up too quickly, and thought children should be children for as long as they could.

  Placing her jacket behind the chair, she took a seat. Lily—who couldn’t be more than ten—stared at her all the while. Ramsey stared at her too. He seemed to be enjoying the grilling his niece was putting on her.

  “What are you doing there?” Jezebel asked, looking at the papers next to Lily.

  “Homework.” The girl picked up her pencil and rolled it between her fingers. She continued to stare at Jezebel.

  “Math?” Jezebel recognized the simple mathematics equations.

  Lily nodded and asked, “Do you like math?”

  “Very
much.”

  She smiled. “Me too.” Lily looked down. “I’m good at it.”

  Ramsey scoffed and Jezebel turned to him. He was grinning ear-to-ear. “Lily, stop being so modest, you’re not good, you’re great.” His eyes twinkled as Lily laughed. “She’s at the top of her class in every subject, but she’s almost two grade levels ahead in math.”

  “Uncle Ramsey,” Lily murmured, her cheeks glowing pink, but her face lit up like an over decorated Christmas tree.

  Jezebel smiled at the easy affection between the two. Beautiful, seductive, knew how to massage a woman, and he cared about his family? What? Was he perfect or something?

  Ramsey’s eyes caught hers. Lily had gone back to her homework, and Jezebel had allowed him to order her dessert, telling herself she would leave in fifteen minutes. She was only doing it for the child, who was practically ignoring them both as math and whatever was floating into her ear from that one iPod bud, absorbed her life.

  “How did you get here?” he asked, using a dessert fork to cut into the creamy cheesecake on his plate.

  “Excuse me?”

  He smiled slightly. “Did you drive?”

  “No.”

  Ramsey nodded. “I’ll take you home.”

  She frowned.

  Was she convinced he wasn’t a stalker?

  Do stalkers bring their nieces along to stalk people? the rational part of her brain screeched.

  Maybe.

  “I’m not stalking you, Jezebel,” he murmured, looking more amused than anything else. “I just enjoy your company. I drove, and I’m dropping Li home. Since you did stay longer than you expected, it’s only gentlemanly for me to drop you home.”

  “I don’t live in the city.”

  “Oh?” He seemed surprised.

  She nodded. “It’s fine. I’ll take a cab.”

  “How far out are you?”

  “Astoria,” she finally murmured.

  “Astoria, Queens?” Ramsey clarified. She didn’t have to look at him to see the amusement on his face. It was all in the incredulity of his tone.

  “You know that’s still considered the city—” He broke off when she glared at him, giving her an easy smile. “I’ll drop you home.”

  “You really don’t have to.”

  He stared at her long and hard, before he leaned forward, and in the most serious voice she’d ever heard him use, said quite clearly, “I really want to, Jezebel.”

  ***

  Well, she was home.

  Jezebel stared at her four-bedroom Victorian from the front seat of Ramsey Stone’s SUV—go figure he drove a massive black truck—and contemplated how to end the night. Technically, they hadn’t been on a date, though maybe they had?

  After he’d declared that he really wanted to take her home, and she hadn’t protested, Ramsey had changed the topic, asking her about her business, her role in the SBA, talking about his business, his niece. They’d ended up getting coffee after dessert, but poor Lily had fallen asleep on the table. It was then they’d realized it was almost ten o’clock. Ramsey helped the tired girl into her coat, wrapped her scarf around her and gathered up pencils and papers. It was clear he’d done this routine countless times and was a pro. After securing Lily into one arm and grabbing her bag with the other, they’d left the restaurant.

  Lily slept through the ride home, which was barely ten minutes from the restaurant. A petite Asian female was waiting for them on the curb and took Lily. She tried to peep around into the truck, but Ramsey remained firmly planted in front of her until she went back into the house. He hadn’t offered any explanation of who she was, and Jezebel decided it wasn’t her place.

  The ride to her house was much longer and although they spoke, Jezebel couldn’t remember any of the conversation. All she could think was he was dropping her home. Should she invite him up? Did he expect that? Did she care if he expected it? This was not any type of way to begin a relationship. Was she even looking for a relationship?

  She hadn’t had sex in over a year. It was only natural to be...worked up. And if the moistness between her legs was any indication, she was incredibly worked up.

  “Thank you for dropping me home,” she said, turning to give him a forced smile.

  He didn’t reply. In fact, he didn’t move. He only continued to stare at her, no smile, no nothing.

  “Well...yes.” Jezebel reached for the door handle, but froze when he called her name. She released it and turned to him, wondering if she was forgetting something.

  “If I ask you a question, will answer truthfully?”

  Jezebel swallowed. His eyes narrowed and he lifted a brow. Slowly, she nodded.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded again.

  “Do you want me to come inside?”

  Her heart pounded and she laughed it off.

  “You promised to be honest.”

  Laughter faded. “Yes.”

  He moved so quickly it was impossible to see him. In the next instant, his lips were mere inches from her own, his hand buried in her hair. “Good.”

  Before she could consider his meaning, his lips pressed against hers. At the first touch of his soft, yet firm mouth, Jezebel melted. There was no other word for it. Her body went limp, and Ramsey knew it. When he licked against the seam of her lips, she parted them, moaning when his tongue slid in. He tasted of coffee, and a hint of the strawberry cheesecake, but mostly, he tasted strong and masculine and intoxicating and...Ramsey.

  He pulled away slowly, and she moved with him, wanting, no…needing more.

  “What—why’d you stop?” she murmured.

  His thumb traced her bottom lip. “Would you like me to continue?”

  Jezebel blinked. Was he serious?

  Ramsey smiled. “I need you to say it.”

  “Say it?”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “What?”

  He learned forward and caught her bottom lip between his teeth. “I love your lips—they are so full and plump—but I think the bottom one is my favorite.”

  As his lips closed over hers again, licking at her tongue, her lips...before pulling away, Jezebel sighed.

  “Invite me in.”

  He kissed her neck, dragging his tongue down to her clavicle.

  Oh my God. Her body was on fire.

  Ramsey groaned in her ear. “You have the sexiest whimpers, Jezebel.”

  Had she whimpered? She wasn’t a whimperer.

  A shriek left her lips as his teeth grazed her neck, but it quickly turned to a moan when his lips closed over the slight injury and his tongue soothed it.

  She had all the reasons lined up as to why she shouldn’t invite him into her home: she didn’t know him, it was her home, she didn’t know him, it was the place she laid her head, and she didn’t know him!

  And only one reason why she should: she really wanted him to fuck her. She didn’t want to be made love to, no, she wanted something more...primal, animalistic, and she sensed that was exactly what Ramsey was offering. She could see it in those dark eyes, the way he touched her, kissed her...

  “Invite me in,” he prodded, his voice low and husky. “We both need it.”

  Jezebel nodded against him. “Yes.” His lips brushed hers and his hand, which must have been working her jacket, was suddenly cupping her breast over her blouse. She moaned, wanting to feel his skin against hers. “Yes. Come in.”

  Chapter 4

  His lips caught hers in a kiss so passionate, so intense, she whimpered again, and found herself in his lap. She didn’t know how she got there, but Jezebel wasn’t complaining. Her jacket was open, her skirt a belt around her waist, and seated as she was, she could feel the thick, hard length of him under his work pants. She rubbed against him, and his head fell back against the headrest as he groaned as if in painful ecstasy. Jezebel moaned softly, enjoying the feel of him against her through their clothing. Because his reaction called to the very carnal part of her being, she did it again, worki
ng her hips in a sensual, slow way.

  Ramsey’s eyes half-masted, giving him a mysterious, seductive look, and then his lips caught hers again in a quick, hard kiss. Somewhere in the distance, she heard a click, and then the brittle January air rushed her body, snapping her from her haze. She’d barely pulled the jacket closed before he was moving, sliding her down his body and onto the sidewalk.

  Suddenly self-conscious, Jezebel looked around at the surrounding houses. It was dark but tall, yellow street lamps cast dim light on the roadway. She lived in a good neighborhood, a family-oriented, quiet neighborhood, but her neighbors—especially the stay-at-home wives and mothers who needed entertainment—were nosey. She’d been to a few block meetings only to find out they all knew where she worked, who she was dating, almost everything they could know from peering out their windows at her. Not a week after she’d broken up with Kirk, Maggie, who lived in the house to the left, baked her an apple pie just because “she looked like she needed it.” Some of the others had sent pastries, and offered to help with garden-work in the summer. She wasn’t even a gardener. Jezebel couldn’t dislike them—they were too nice for that, dammit—but she could glare.

  So busy was she scouting out the dark windows, she didn’t see or feel Ramsey exit the vehicle until his large body was practically enveloping hers. His heat at her back felt so good, she couldn’t help but lean back.

  “What are you looking at?” His voice was low and husky, seduction in its purest form.

  “Nothing.” She shivered. It had nothing to do with the cold.

  “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Ramsey’s lips pressed to her neck and she groaned before stepping away quickly and turning to face him. They were still outside...

  He had one brow lifted, and wore an easy smirk.

  Jezebel shook her head. “No.” Because she wasn’t. This was about two adults fulfilling a basic need. She needed him; he needed her. It was just for tonight.

  Without another word, she brushed past him. Heading for the gate before she drew up short. She was spinning to tell him she’d left her bag in his car, when it suddenly appeared in front of her face.