Stryker (Books 1 & 2) (Atrox Security)

by J. C. Cliff

  Before I can think about that fact, a deep, soothing voice flows over me, giving me the shivers. “Relax, sweetheart. You looked so calm when I first walked in, and now you’re jumpy. What gives?”

  My eyes bolt open wide at the sound of his voice; it’s oh-so-sexy and smooth. I stare, fixated on the patterned floor beneath me, trying to find my voice, but it doesn’t come. A pair of feet then come into view. Oh my gosh! He’s barefoot, and I don’t know why, but I find them rather sexy. Umm… but why is he in bare feet? My heart rate kicks up a notch, realizing I’ve only got on my panties and a thin white sheet to cover my body. Then it dawns on me Celia knew this and had the nerve to try and con me into going buck-naked!

  “Cat got your tongue, beautiful?” he prods.

  “I’m fine,” I squeak out, when really I’m lying my ass off as I try to suck it up and be brave. I suppose it’s too late to bolt for the door now, especially knowing I’d give him a show in the process. I know for certain if I didn’t have two glasses of liquid courage in me, I’d be far more on edge than I am right now.

  This was Celia’s plan all along, wasn’t it? Invite me out to dinner, encourage me to have a few drinks so she could get me behind a closed door with a man who’d be putting his bare hands all over me.

  “My name’s Matt,” he softly tells me, interrupting my thoughts, but his gentle voice does nothing to stop the jackhammering of my heart. “I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” His voice is full of promise as he drags the sheet downward, letting it come to rest right below my waistline.

  My ears are on high alert since I can’t see. His hands disappear from my heated skin then make a swishing sound behind me as if he’s rubbing them together. “I’m going to start off with some heated oil,” he says. When his hands caress over my shoulder blades, I lose my breath, the warmth of his palms combined with his deadly touch sending a full body shiver through me.

  “You’re not cold, are you?” he asks in his deep voice that stirs my lady parts awake. Goose bumps pepper my skin as he glides his hands along the length of my exposed back. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  “No,” I half squeak out.

  He chuckles at my high-pitch answer, then says, “No need to be nervous, but since you seem to be, we’ll start out slow ‘til I get you warmed up.” And boy does he get me warmed up. He’s affecting me in ways I shouldn’t be. So much so, I find myself tensing again.

  “Shh, you gotta learn how to relax,” he whispers near my ear, his air tickling my skin. “You’re way too tense. Take a deep breath and let me work out the kinks.” His hands slide back over my shoulders and then he presses his deft fingers into my stiff muscles. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, holding back a moan. Yeah, okay, this does feel good.

  He keeps to his promise, working out my kinks, and with each squeeze of taught muscle he loosens, my body sinks into the table. Celia was right; I’ve been a hermit for too long. I’d forgotten how good it feels to have a massage, let alone having a man’s hands all over me, and I almost feel guilty for it. I shove the negative thoughts away; it’s not like he’s here to fuck me or anything. This is a respectable establishment, and I’m getting a professional massage, and I deserve this night. With my mind made up to relax once and for all, I allow my body to become putty in his hands.

  The soft romantic music comes back into focus as Matt begins to give me the best back rub of my life. My body graciously gives in with every press and squeeze of my tight muscles, quickly turning me into a mass of Jell-O. His fingers are amazingly strong, and combined with the warm oils seeping into my skin, he’s put me in a state of pure bliss.

  “There you go, sweetheart. You’re learning to let go. Your muscles are starting to loosen up now.” His voice is deep and husky with a hint of a southern accent. “Why is a pretty little thing like you all worked up and tense, anyway?” he muses.

  I’m lost in my own world with my eyes closed, skipping right over his question as I imagine what kind of body is connected to those magical hands and that sexy voice.

  A raspy whisper flows into my ear, startling me, “Sweetheart, you still with me?” Oh, God, that deep tenor vibrates right through my soul. The warmth of his breath lingers over the outer shell of my ear, and in turn, a light fluttering swirls low in my belly. His heady cologne grips me in such a way I feel the need to graze my nose along his neck.

  I swallow down the lusty images and manage a small croaky whisper. “Yeah, I’m with you. Just relaxing, sorry.”

  His lips brush my earlobe, as he hums, “Mmm. Glad you’re with me now.” Oh my God! Did this man just kiss my ear? I know I couldn’t have imagined it, because his lips are still hovering over my lobe, stirring something deep and sensual within me. I haven’t felt these types of butterflies in forever, and all I can think about is how I’m going to need a change of panties before this massage is over.

  He gives me an open-mouthed kiss right behind my ear. His tongue trailing over my sensitive skin. Warm, wet heat targeted behind my ear is the only thing I feel. “I plan to rock your world tonight. How’s that sound?” he murmurs, his voice laced with sexual innuendo. He then blows a long, cool faint breeze over my damp skin, which sends shivers down my spine. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my hard-as-steel nipples raised me off the table a full inch. I gulp for air, tryin in vain to not hyperventilate and give myself away, because the reality is… I’m seriously turned on.

  His deep, throaty chuckle vibrates through me. My body is reacting to everything about him. When his hot breath skirts over my neck in shallow pants, my sex clenches. “Cat got your tongue again, beautiful?”

  I can’t speak. I’ve got a hundred-pound bullfrog caught in my throat as I lay here frozen in some sort of lusty spell he put me in.

  “No worries. You’ll find your voice soon enough,” he promises.

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  I exhale a sigh of relief when he pulls away from me. At this point, he’s got me all worked up and turned around. I have to refrain from squirming, because then I’ll really give myself away, and Lord help me, I have no clue how to tamp down the growing arousal between my legs.

  I’m not sure how thankful I am that he’s turned all his attention back to the massage itself. His hands spread a trail of heat as he massages down the length of my back as his skilled thumbs press deep into the muscles on either side of my spine. He’s right about finding my voice now, because this time I can’t help it; an unhindered moan of intense pleasure erupts from the bottom of my toes and out my mouth.

  A rich, hearty chuckle ensues, and I shyly grin at myself for being so verbal. “Feel good, huh?” he asks.

  “Oh yeah,” I drawl out the words in utter contentment.

  “We’re just getting warmed up, sweetheart. This is only the beginning. I’ve got moves that are going to make you go wild.” His tone is consistently low and sultry, but I push aside the ridiculousness of my imagination. I’m certain I’m misinterpreting everything that’s happening here. This has to be me blowing everything out of proportion and misreading his intent. I let out a long sigh and let him mold my every muscle to his liking, dismissing his remark.

  “Place your arms out to the sides and above your head,” he softly demands. I note it wasn’t a suggestion. I slowly raise my arms out from my sides and lay them above my head. “That’s a good girl.”

  I’m glad the lights are low and he can’t see my blushing face, because I know I’m the exact shade of a ripe tomato. I’m pretty sure the employees in this establishment aren’t supposed to be talking with sexual undertones the way he has been, nor giving out little love kisses. I don’t quite know how to digest this experience. “Mmm, you have a sexy body,” he says with appreciation in his voice, as he runs his hands over the sides of my ribs.

  “Oh,” I groan aloud, as he hits a tender muscle. The man is good—damn good. His ministrations feel so perfect he has me curling my toes in ecstasy. I bite my lip, and at the same time, I smile awkwardl
y at the floor, thinking I can put up with his dirty talk and stealing harmless pecks as long as he keeps working out all my kinks.

  Feeling giddy now, I begin to think inappropriate thoughts, and I don’t stop myself from thinking them this time, either. A sexy masseuse who does a bang up job. I stifle a giggle at my own lame joke. I should drink a few glasses of vino more often. Celia was definitely right about making me come out tonight.

  CHAPTER 5

  ~ Valerie ~

  I’m going to owe Celia for giving me her regularly scheduled room tonight. The way this man pays extra attention to every tight and tangled muscle in my body has me either wanting to sing soprano, or give him the passwords to all my bank accounts, because I can’t decide if it’s pain or pleasure he’s giving me.

  His hands glide effortlessly over my skin like warm honey, and as the last of my tension evaporates into thin air, I find myself floating on a soft cloud of euphoria. He must’ve known how truly nervous I was, because he even kept my modesty intact the entire time by leaving the sheet over my bottom, allowing me to stay relaxed.

  It’s almost as if he’d been worshipping my body with appreciation the entire time, and I’m almost certain he enjoyed himself as he ran his hands over every dip and curve. I’m not in top shape, but I’m not out of shape either. I’m also no spring chicken, so he’s definitely been a boost to my ego. He leaves my side for a moment, the air movement leaving behind a faint, wispy scent of his masculine cologne. I inhale, filling my lungs with it, because it does strange and heady things to my insides.

  The music that’s been infusing the room with relaxing sounds comes to an end, and what takes its place is a tempo that screams edgy, forbidden, and sultry. When he returns to me, he places his hands on my lower torso, skimming over the curves of my hips in a way that makes my heart go still.

  It’s as if he’s choreographed his own moves to the music, and with his every touch, every maneuver, he seems to get bolder. I mean, I know where he’s touching me is normal for a massage, but it’s the way he’s touching me that has me questioning his motives.

  His palms slowly glide through the warm, slick oil on my bare skin, daring to push the sheet off my hips inch by inch. My heartbeat begins to match the music’s tempo, and not in a good way—or maybe it is. Either I’m seriously overreacting, or he is; I’m not totally sure who at this point.

  When the thin white sheet slips off once and for all, exposing my barely-there panties, my heart catches in my throat. Yep, I’m more than certain it’s him who’s blurred the lines on this massage. The energy that was once permeating the room with relaxation takes a sharp left turn the second his hot hands squeeze my ass cheeks.

  This is not happening, I tell myself in full-on denial, because things like this don’t happen in prestigious spas. Behind me, he lets out a low hiss just loud enough I can hear it over the music. His hands have stilled, each palm cradling an ass cheek almost reverently, and in a way, it makes me think I’ve still got it.

  I suddenly remember the type of panties I had put on for this evening: a scanty, red lace thong. My pulse goes wild, and I can’t breathe as I envision what this man is getting an eyeful of. No wonder I feel like he’s losing his composure. My ass is so absurdly exposed I feel the heat from blushing go straight to the tips of my ears.

  He slowly kneads my flesh, working his way downward, right to my creases. Both his thumbs are getting awfully close to my center, causing me to tense. He must not notice, because he says nothing, nor does he stop what he’s doing. He’s too focused on keeping time to the beat of the music, his fingers working to a sensual rhythm of their own as he takes his fill of my backside.

  His voice startles me as he sings a stanza, “Give me your body,” from a song in which I never heard before. The lyrics coming out of his lungs are rich, husky, and so damn sexy. Someone needs to slap me out of this lusty stupor, because this can’t really be happening. I can’t be mixing up all the signals, because my body sure as hell isn’t. Warmth floods between my legs as I try to break the spell he has me under by speaking up. “I… I’ve never heard this song before. Who sings it?”

  “It’s an exclusive song by The Chippendales,” he answers, right before he sings another chorus line.

  “Oh,” I say nervously, feeling as if I need to keep the conversation going as if it would stop things from getting any weirder. “I’ve never been here before.” The sexual energy in the room is stifling, his deep lyrical voice is not helping matters either. He has the most gorgeous voice. I swallow the lump of anxiety in my throat, and add, “Actually, I’ve never had this kind of a massage before.”

  His hands briefly pause on my legs, and his fingers tighten on my flesh as if I said something wrong. “Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully, then murmurs, “Well, then, you’ve come to the right place.”

  His hands glide upward to my shoulders as he leans over my torso, and then he rasps, “I will most likely ruin you for all other masseurs.” There’s a bit of arrogance to his husky tone, but I suppose he’s earned that title, since he’s been able to put me under his spell.

  “You sound so sure of yourself,” I breathe warily.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” As soon as he lets those words out, the only barrier between us is gone in a flash. He’s ripped my panties in half, and I’m now bare naked. Not that the thong was hiding much, but still, I felt like I had a level of self-preservation with the thin material.

  I let out a mortified gasp. His hands seem to be everywhere all at once, and no longer kneading my muscles. It’s more like he’s feeling me up in a sexual way. This has got to stop, so I raise my torso up off the table and lean my weight on my elbow as I twist my neck around to give him a piece of my mind. I’m in utter shock and disbelief over this man’s sheer boldness.

  The second I lay eyes on him for the first time, my mouth goes horridly dry. This isn’t real; it can’t be. I no longer have to guess what kind of body lies behind those hands of his. He looks exactly like one of those Chippendales. He’s sure as hell dressed like one. His broad chest is ripped with muscles, and his thick neck sports a black bowtie. He has tattoos seemingly everywhere, but the room is spinning, everything is a blur, and I can’t process a damn thing. The combination of muscles, tats, and his bad-boy persona is alluring and captivating. For a fleeting moment, I think of Celia, wondering if she has me on some stupid hidden camera shit, because I wouldn’t put it past her.

  I’m stunned, immobilized in a moment of I don’t know what. Every muscle in my body is on lockdown, especially my tongue. I don’t know what to do, what to say, but the atmosphere has turned highly unprofessional, and it needs to end. I don’t care if the man is Channing Tatum’s twin; this is wrong.

  The words that have been bursting to get out of my brain and spill from my mouth are on the tip of my tongue. Just as I’m able to form a cohesive sentence, he leans his well-oiled and sinful body over me and nips at my neck, directly above my pulse point. My mouth is so dry I think it’s permanently glued shut, and when his hot lips wrap around the lobe of my ear, my eyes flutter closed. The sensations feel so good I know I’m done for. I’m seriously struggling, because let’s face it. Don’t we all have these types of daydreams? I just never thought the dream would become a reality. The hot, sultry breath he exhales from between his lips enters my ear, and shivers of lust rip through me like lightning strikes. There’s no mistaking the electrical crackle in the air, and he has to feel it too, because he lets out a low, feral moan, which throws me into a tailspin of confusion and desire.

  His warm lips, and slick tongue caress the outer shell of my ear, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my sex. A rich hum from his chest vibrates against my skin, and just that quickly, I forget what I was going to say. Can I blame the slight buzz I have going on from the wine?

  He has me so turned on I can’t think straight. Where is my conscience? My morals? Before I get a chance to venture into those questions, he nips my earlobe then gently tugs at it wi
th his teeth. My heart skips a beat, and it’s apparent I’m soaking wet for this man. “You are so fucking gorgeous,” he whispers in my ear. Butterflies are swarming nonstop, low in my belly. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to become so sex-deprived over the past year; it’s all catching up to me now.

  A hand slips between my thighs, expert fingers trailing a slow sultry path to my dripping sex… and I can't breathe. What the fuck is going on here? Why am I allowing this? My brows pinch together in both pleasure and confusion, and just as I push past the shock of it all, gathering my thoughts to give him a piece of my mind, he somehow manages to silence me yet again as he flips me over onto my back.

  My mouth is agape as I stare wide-eyed at this bold jackass, or Adonis; I haven’t decided which one yet. Could be the wine impairing my judgment. But lying this way, I get a full-frontal view of the man. And God is he ripped with muscles, and the way his tattoos wrap around the thickness of his arms and shoulders only accentuates his bulky build. He’s like a damn linebacker, and his six-pack looks as if it’s chiseled out of stone. He could definitely be a fitness model, but the lights are so dim I can’t really make out his finer features. And really—at this point, does it even matter?

  His mirrored sunglasses, however, are mocking me, and his straight, white teeth are gleaming at me in the dimly lit room through a huge knowing smile. A piece of his brown hair slips in front of his eyes as he leans inward, hovering over me. My heart beats triple time as I wonder what he’s going to do next. He acts like he’s going to touch me, but then he surprises me when he doesn’t. He reaches past me for a bottle of heated oil, a light chuckle escaping him. Is he playing a game now? I lose that thought when his cologne mixed with his own scent drifts under my nose. I inhale every bit of it and it damn near makes my eyes roll to the back of my head. I stifle a moan by clenching my teeth tightly together. He pulls away from me and pours more of the massage oil into his palms.