Third Wheel

by Lynn Burke

  “How ya doing?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

  “Amazing,” she said, drawing the word out on a groan and spreading her legs slightly wider. “A girl could get used to this.”

  “You’re an incredible woman and deserved to be spoiled, Jessica. Don’t settle for anything less.” I moved my attention downward to the back of her knee, peeking again beneath the towel I’d managed to rumple. Bare, pink flesh, glistening with moisture...

  Thank God for self-control. I kept my hands moving downward to her calf, her ankle, eventually her foot, my gaze glued on the moisture seeping from between the swollen lips of her pussy.

  “I’m going to pull down the towel to your waist so I can massage your back,” I managed to choke out while releasing her foot.

  “M’kay.”

  Every inch of bared flesh called out to my tongue, but I held myself in check, thinking of Jessica—her worries and cares, her need for pampering. Besides, I was a man of my word and had promised no sex. Didn’t mean I wouldn’t test her boundaries, though.

  I leaned over her body to reach for the oil, making sure my hard-on brushed against her. No flinching or shying away, I noted with satisfaction.

  Oil pooled where her back gave way to flared hips, and I set to work spreading the slickness up and down the length of her back, focusing on the muscles lining her spine. Seconds of palming her waist and circling my thumbs along her hip bones turned into minutes as I forced the knots of her lower back to release.

  The towel slipped lower, and I moved my hands along with it to massage the perfect globes of her ass. I focused on her face and slid my thumbs down the top of her crack. Her lips parted on a quick inhale, but rather than squeeze her cheeks together like I expected her to, her hips rose off the bed as if inviting further exploration.

  I made the same sweeping action, but pressing wide with my palms, pulling her cheeks apart enough for a peek at her little rosebud. Her moan accompanied the slide of my thumbs along either side of the puckered skin.

  Jessica ground her hips into the bed and shuddered a third time, her breath coming fast and heavy. Her brow furrowed, cheeks flushed. Moisture dripped from her pussy onto the towel beneath.

  I almost gave into the temptation to dive down head first and lap up her cream. God knew her body’s response to my hands said she’d let me eat her out, but like a true gentleman, I kept my fucking promises.

  My thumbs brushed the edges of her rosebud, and she gasped, goosebumps pebbling her skin. Oiled and slick, my thumb could press right past her ring of muscle with no resistance. The temptation of her responsiveness about drove me fucking insane.

  Another squeeze of her ass and I slid the pad of my thumb lightly across her hole. A deep groan came from her lips, and she shuddered, grinding her hips. I swept back up and over with slight pressure.

  Her body convulsed. “Oh, God, oh, God.” She pressed her face into the mattress, hands grasping at the sheets beside her as she came, the mattress stifling her cries as I continued to run my thumb across her rosebud hole. One last shudder rippled down her body, and I skimmed my hands all the way up her back to her shoulders. Tension began to gather beneath my fingers as her head turned toward the opposite side of the bed.

  “I-I’m sorr—”

  “Shh. Relax,” I said, leaning down to nuzzle her warm ear. “You’re beautiful when you let go.”

  She melted beneath my touch again, and I decided to push a little more. “If you want to roll over, I’ll massage your front.”

  Slow, but without hesitation, Jessica twisted and rolled, her eyelids fluttering open. I nearly drowned in her sleepy, satisfied eyes.

  I traced my fingers along her collar bone, our gazes locked, the sound of our breathing drowning the music coming from the other room. Moving my hands lower, I brushed my palms along the tops of her breasts.

  Her lips parted.

  My gaze trailed down along with my hands, over the swollen sides of her full breasts. Her nipples hardened beneath my stare. I circled my thumbs closer, and her areolas pebbled.

  I swallowed down against the need to suck the hard nubs soft again and glanced up to find Jessica’s eyes had closed. My attention turned to the askew towel covering her pussy and one hip bone, and how I could get it to move without actually baring her myself.

  I brushed my thumbs along the bottom of her nipples, and she arched into my touch with a quick breath. Smirking and throbbing like a mother fucker, I palmed the undersides of her breasts and kneaded, gently running my fingers across both hard nubs.

  Jessica released a deep groan, her hands grasping at the sheets again.

  I rolled the hard peaks between my fingers, waiting as each rise of her hips revealed more of her hip and thigh.

  “H-holy shit.” She gasped. “I’m going to come again.”

  Pinching her nipples brought another cry of release that rolled over me like a tsunami. I gritted my teeth to keep from ripping off my slacks and pounding into her.

  The towel slipped free from her body as one last shudder rippled through her, and my gaze zeroed in on the bare swell at the top of her splayed thighs. I slid my slickened hands down over her stomach, noting a few stretchmarks, but honed in on the cream coating her thighs and swollen lips of her pussy. Her erect clit.

  Talk about fucking drool.

  The sweet scent of her brought my inner caveman front and center, and all I could think was I just might shoot off in my pants without stimulation. Fighting for control, I spanned her waist with my hands and moved them down, my thumbs gliding along her pubic bone, down the insides of her thighs.

  Eyes clenched shut, Jessica shifted as though restless beneath my touch. Her brow furrowed, lower lip caught between her teeth.

  I brushed a knuckle up and over her soaked lips, and she pressed into my touch. An invitation if I’d ever seen one. I swept my thumb over her clit, and she gasped, eyelids flying open. Her gaze latched onto me.

  I circled her clit with my thumb and dragged the pad down over the top into her slick folds. Her deep groan and the haze of desire in her eyes…

  Fuck, did I want her. “Want me to stop?” I forced myself to ask.

  “No,” she whispered, hips rising in invitation.

  Her cream coated my exploring fingers, and when she lifted her hips again, I slid one inside of her tight sheath. I pulled out and pressed in deep with a second.

  Pupils dilated, mouth open and panting, Jessica stared at me as I fucked her with my fingers. Her breath came in gasps, her inner walls tightening.

  One more, I thought, running my thumb over her clit as I buried my fingers deep inside her again and curled them.

  Her pussy clenched down, and her eyes closed, back arching as a third climax rolled over her.

  I made soothing noises until she grew lax beneath my hands and lay as one dead. Skin flushed and glowing. A small smile on her lips.

  Unable to resist, I lifted my hand and sucked her cum off my fingers. Tangy and sweeter than anything I’d ever tasted. Goddamn, I had the worst case of blue balls. Jaw clenching, I pulled the top sheet and comforter up over her body.

  A heavy sigh escaped her as her face turned, cheek pressing against the mattress.

  I leaned down and brushed my lips across the damp hair plastered to her temple. “Sleep,” I whispered.

  Knowing my self-control neared its end—and the fact I’d be unable to keep from hollering the second I jerked off—I left the bedroom and softly closed the door behind me.

  My shaft and balls ached to the point of pain, but I ignored the discomfort and grabbed my suit coat off the couch. I fished my card from the pocket and stared down at it in my hand for a few seconds. I couldn’t stay the night and not fuck every hole in her body. No fucking way. But, I wanted to see Jessica again.

  I scribbled my cell number on the back of the card and left it sitting on top of her purse. Within two minutes, I righted the bag supplied by Elite and left the hotel room.

  Chapter Eight

>   Jessica

  I woke and stretched beneath my blankets, ecstatic that for the first time since her birth, Skye had slept through the night. My smile faded as I cracked open an eyelid.

  The previous night came back in a rush, and I sat up. No Reid. The other side of the bed hadn’t been slept in. The alarm clock read seven AM. We had another hour until the limo would pick us up outside.

  I yanked the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around me. No sounds came from the bathroom. He wasn’t in the living area either, nor was there a trace of another person having spent the night in the suite.

  Disappointment wormed its way into my mind, but I huffed a breath at myself. “He’s a man whore. What’d you expect?” I muttered to myself while staring out over Boston’s skyline. “Breakfast in bed? Good morning kisses?”

  The truth sucked, but I shuffled into the bathroom and turned on all four jets to full blast—and hot. I forced my face to relax. Reid Sullivan’s absence wasn’t worth my frown. I’d had an amazing night full of good conversation, laughter, and … well, the most incredible orgasms I’d ever experienced.

  Water sprayed on me from all sides, and I closed my eyes, remembering the feel of his hands on my body.

  Two good, self-induced orgasms later and pruned like a grape, I climbed out of the tub and readied to go home. At ten of eight, I reached for my purse. A card fluttered to the floor.

  Reid Sullivan, Elite Escort in simple black script on a snowy white card, I noted while crouching down to pick it up.

  Nice, I thought with sarcastic snark. He left his calling card. Unable to help myself, I lifted it to my nose hoping for a sniff of his cologne. Nothing. I flipped the card over and found a phone number scrawled in blue ink.

  I stared for a few seconds, fingertip tapping the card. An invitation to call, obviously, but why? He knew I couldn’t afford to book him for another night out. More disappointment—another frown. I stuffed the card in my purse and hurried out to meet the limo.

  ****

  I blew a wayward hair out of my eyes and reached into the toilet, sponge clutched in my rubber-gloved hand. The final chore of my Saturday morning before sitting down to my bills and a near-worthless checkbook.

  Blues Clues’ theme song drifted in through the bathroom door. I’d left Skye on her Dora chair, plastic cup of fishies in hand while I finished scrubbing.

  Heaving a sigh, I allowed LaLa Land to take over my mind as I’d done all week long since my mommy’s night out. I’d spilled the goods to Christine over two cups of coffee at my table the Saturday before when I’d gotten home. God, did she grill me for details … gave me shit over the fact I’d said no to sex, too.

  Well, not real sex. Not really. Fingers didn’t really count in my mind, but Reid’s had definitely given me a taste of what I was missing. The hard ridge that had pressed against me while he’d been massaging my back would have felt ten times better, though.

  Heat flushed through me, and even though I squatted elbow-deep in a toilet bowl, I considered getting myself off again. I’d never touched myself so much in my life. Even when Devon and I had first started fooling around, I’d never been so horny, my body weeping for penetration.

  Should have slept with him, I thought for at least the hundredth time. Should have shagged the night away until I couldn’t breathe or think. Should have been pleasantly sore come morning.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  How many times had I said the same while fingering his business card? I hadn’t called. Never would, either. I couldn’t afford Elite Escort’s fees—I’d checked just because I needed the proof. Why would he want me to call, anyway? He got laid a lot. Probably a few times a week with different women every time. He wasn’t the type of man a woman could trust. Just like Devon.

  “I don’t need to be another notch in his belt, thank you very much,” I grumbled while wringing out the sponge and tossing it into the bucket beside me.

  Maybe he’d felt like a failure and wanted to hook up for his man-pride.

  I flushed the suds down the toilet and stood, hands on hips. No. Reid was too much of a gentleman. Too … real to think something like that.

  “Too bad I didn’t meet him on that damn dating site.” I yanked off the yellow gloves with a snap.

  “Mah!” Skye called from the other room, a giggle in her voice. “Mah!”

  Smiling, I dropped the gloves and went to see what else little miss Mini-Me needed.

  Chapter Nine

  Reid

  I shifted my truck into park and stared at the front door to the LaCroix residence, a sprawling single-story mansion on the ocean. A salt-scented breeze blew in through my opened window, and my mind turned to whiskey-colored eyes and a sweet smile.

  Fucking coward.

  I should have just jerked off in the bathroom and crawled back into bed with her. Should have pulled her up against me, breathed in her strawberry scent, and enjoyed the idea of her. Should have taken advantage of every second beside her. Fuck the fact I didn’t want to like her too much. Fuck the fact I could have fallen for her and ended up breaking her heart.

  She’d been my last job of the weekend before, and I hadn’t been able to think of much else all week long while framing out the first of five houses Blake had gotten approval for on the two acres he’d bought on the North Shore. Other than roofing, framing was just about the toughest part of building a house from the ground up. Wore an ass out, but thoughts of Jessica had kept me up at night—every night.

  She hadn’t called. I wanted her to, but yet I didn’t. I reminded myself of my youngest sister who didn’t know what she wanted, and when she did finally decide, she always changed her mind a day later. The worst part? I had clients inside waiting for me.

  I glanced at the double front doors.

  Doc LaCroix enjoyed having control over his submissive wife—he also enjoyed allowing other men to pleasure her while he sat back and watched. Good thing the missus didn’t mind other men giving her pleasure to please her master.

  I’d been with them once before not long after starting with Elite. A petite blonde with shapely legs and a pale, bare pussy…

  “Just pretend it’s Jessica,” I grumbled at my flaccid dick stuffed into my jeans, “and we’ll be fine.”

  Fucker didn’t so much as twitch at the thought of being between Jessica’s legs, but we had a job to do.

  Doc opened the door and greeted me with a slight French accent. At five feet and a few inches, Doc looked more like a pre-pubescent kid than a forty-something neurosurgeon. He certainly didn’t lack in the confidence department, though. Even though I towered over him and his scrawny-as-hell body, the man could hold his own. He had this quiet, tough aura about him. His slender fingers performed surgery every week, but after seeing the marks he’d left on his wife our first go-round, I decided I’d never mess with him.

  The missus, though, I’d been happy to mess a hell of a lot with her last time, allowing the good doc to boss me around like a sex slave.

  As I followed him to their play room, I couldn’t muster any excitement I would have felt if the appointment had been pre-Jessica.

  Goddamnit. Get your head in the game.

  Doc LaCroix had tied his wife spread eagle on the bed against the far wall. Red welts crisscrossed her abdomen and thighs. Ropes bound her large breasts to the point they’d begun to turn blue-ish. Her plump lips wrapped around a ball gag, while a black blindfold hid her eyes.

  I followed Doc into the room and paused beside him at the foot of the bed.

  His wife’s body, minus the grotesquely squeezed breasts, looked so much like my memory of Jessica that my chest ached.

  “Her pleasure has been earned,” Doc said, turning toward a leather chair in the dim corner. “Show her what a good pet she’s been.”

  Focusing on the memory of the need in Jessica’s eyes and the sounds of her moans, I tugged off my shirt. I reached for the button on my jeans and paused, my attention far from the job in front of me. How
the hell could I fuck another woman when all I could think about was Jessica?

  “Can’t do it, Doc,” I said, grabbing my shirt off the floor and pulling it back on. “I’m sorry.”

  “Is everything okay, young man?” he asked, catching up to me as I strode back down the hallway toward the front door.

  “Yes. I just … can’t.” I couldn’t meet his gaze, even when he clasped me on the shoulder.

  “Shall I reschedule, or would you prefer we ask for another escort to play with us next time?”

  The muscle in my jaw ticked as I considered his words. “Perhaps another would be best.”

  He nodded. “I’ll call Elite and let them know.”

  “No.” I held out my hand. “I’ll call and make sure you’re fully refunded. And, next time you utilize Elite’s services, I’ll take care of it.”

  Elite paid me to satisfy customers, I reminded myself while pulling out of the LaCroix’s driveway, the setting sun blinding me.

  They needed my cock and oftentimes to merely be eye candy, nothing more. They expected me to do whatever was necessary to please their clients. Even if every single word, every touch and moan were lies.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have it in me to lie—not when my mind set itself on a lovely lady. I needed to find out if she was even worth thinking about.

  Screw the contract I’d signed with Elite about client privacy … I needed to see Jessica again.

  Chapter Ten

  Jessica

  Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids, and I snuggled my face into Skye’s warm neck, the jingle of another Disney Junior cartoon blaring from the TV. Mini-Me smelled like her lavender bath wash, her footie nightie like dryer sheets. I landed a few smooches before she pushed a hand up to block my lips.

  “No way!” she barked, attention glued to the screen.