Finding Mr. Wrong

by A. m Madden

  Brae giggled at something preppy boy said before he handed both of us a white cotton robe. “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Please, go change, and then get under the sheet. You can leave your undergarments on—or not.” He winked at Brae, and I saw red.

  Back in the house, I set the robe on the chair while Brae went into the bathroom to change. Not giving a flying fuck if she saw me changing, I decided to strip down to nothing before putting on my robe.

  “Are you ready?” Brae’s hair was now pulled up into a knot on top of her head. Her sleek neck looked extremely inviting. “I’m so stiff, I could use a good rubdown. I hope Blase likes using oils,” she quipped, a glint in her eye.

  Just like always, she knew how to get to me. Not wanting to have a tent form under my robe, I thought of Svetlana’s mole and all was good. I knew what Brae was doing. Well, two could play at that game.

  A thin white sheet covered both tables, which were three feet apart from one another. This wasn’t like a spa. Being out in the open, hearing real waves rather than manufactured ones . . . it was relaxing.

  “This is lovely.” Brae said before releasing a calming breath. We stood between the tables, facing each other. She cocked a brow. “Do you mind?” Swirling her finger in a circle, she added, “Please turn around.”

  It wasn’t long until I heard the creak of the table. That’s when I turned, caught her eye, and dropped my robe onto the sand. Standing in all my glory without a care in the world, I smiled at her. Her eyes raked up and down my now naked body, and I almost did a jig at seeing her jaw drop a bit.

  Rather than saying anything right away, I stood there so she could get a good look, stretched my arms above my head, and twisted the upper part of my body toward the ocean, then back toward the house. “Nothing like enjoying a bit of nature.” With my hands now on my hips, I cut my eyes to Brae, assuming she’d be face down in the donut style headrest, but she wasn’t. Sparky was studying me. Her eyes were level with my dick, which was starting to show signs of life.

  Svetlana and Blase came around the corner and stopped dead in their tracks. Both—yes, both of them—stared at me. “You get on the bed and cover up. I not give happy endings.”

  Brae giggled, and I did as I was told. With the sheet barely covering the top of my ass, Svetlana rubbed her hands together before squirting something on my back. It smelled like flowers and was warmer than the sun beating down on us.

  “What type of massages are you giving us today?”

  “Looks like you picked the deep tissue, and this pretty lady picked the reflexology.” When I glanced up, Blase loud-whispered to Brae, “Great choice, by the way.”

  “Hold on a second. I didn’t pick anything.” Before I could stop what was happening, Svetlana rubbed me so hard, it felt as though her fingers were under my muscles and in my ribcage. I grunted in distress, and begged, “Can you please switch mine to the Swedish massage? I heard they give the best ones.”

  Svetlana let out a “pfft,” but changed her method—thank God. Finally relaxed and ready to doze off, I heard groaning. Then moaning.

  “Mmmm . . . ahhh . . . ohhh . . . yes . . . mmmm . . . just . . . like . . . that . . . mmmm.”

  What the fuck was he giving her, an orgasm or a massage? “You okay over there, Kitten?”

  “Mmmhmm. You have great hands, Blase. So strong. So intuitive. It’s like you know what my body needs and how to satisfy it. Sooo gooood.”

  “I was all-star quarterback. Wait, did you just call her kitten?”

  I lifted my head and glanced over Mr. All-American. “That’s right, I did. She purrs in bed.”

  “Is that so?” Dickhead smiled at me. “Sounds like a great story.”

  “Don’t pay attention to him,” Brae said, her voice sounding like a porn star’s.

  Without giving me anymore thought, Blase resumed his ministrations on Brae’s back, which was now glistening. I wasn’t fond of this feeling coursing through me. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but if I had to guess, I’d say jealousy—which was completely and utterly ridiculous.

  Svetlana started using her elbows rather than her hands, and it felt like she put all her body weight behind each push. I bet she weighed more than I did and stood just as tall. Rather than my muscles relaxing, they did the opposite and stiffened in pain. Between that and Brae’s orgasmic taunts, it was time to put an end to this.

  “I think we’re done here.” I sat up, stood up, and wrapped myself in the robe. “Thank you, Svetlana, but I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “Oh, okay. Maybe go inside and take nap. Sleep is just as good for the muscles as is massage.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” With that, I left Brae outside and went in to cool down. The sounds she made coupled with that tool she was flirting with having his hands all over her bare skin pissed me off . . . and that confused the fuck out of me.

  Chapter 14

  Brae

  Walking into the house and seeing Jude lying on his side with the quilt barely covering his boxer shorts wasn’t what I expected. Guilt started to settle in my chest when I realized I’d ruined his massage. Yes, it was my intention because the man just infuriated me, but that made me no better than him. Why couldn’t he acknowledge what happened between us?

  Rather than shower, I decided to lie down. Every muscle in my body felt like a wet noodle. Blase had amazing hands, he truly did. I changed into a T-shirt and a pair of boyshorts. As slowly as I could, I pulled the covers back and slid into my side of the bed.

  Jude’s body shifted just as I laid my head on the pillow facing him. God, he was beautiful. Every inch of his skin was toned and perfect.

  “Sparky?” I smiled at his nickname for me. I’d decided it was much better than kitten since I knew I didn’t snore. With his eyes closed, he stretched his arm out, his hand landing on my hip. His lips curled up in a sweet grin, but he didn’t say anything. When his eyes opened, they settled right on mine.

  “Yes?” I asked, curious about what he was going to say.

  “Did you have a good massage?”

  “I did. It was amazing.”

  I prepared for an insult to come, or a snippy or snide comment, but with his eyes still pinned to mine, he simply nodded before saying, “I’m glad.”

  “Are you hungry?” I asked, trying to hide the shock in my voice over his civility. “I can make spaghetti. I’m pretty sure you can’t botch spaghetti.” By offering the gesture, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to say I was sorry . . . loophole.

  “Well, I’m sure you can find a way to, but I’m starving, so I’ll take my chances,” he teased with another sweet smile.

  Jude was even more gorgeous when he smiled. The kind of gorgeous that literally knocked the wind from your lungs, left you speechless, rendered you stupid. I knew I should have moved my ass off that bed, yet there I remained, lying on my side, still staring at him while smiling right back.

  The smile slipped off his face. The butterflies in my stomach felt like bats flapping their wings the longer I stared. Electricity bounced between us as if it was a living, breathing thing. He flexed the hand still laying on my hip. It was on the move, skimming my side, slinking under my T-shirt and around to my back, before it rested right above the curve of my ass. His touch was warm. Wondering what he was going to do next both scared and intrigued me to the point where I waited, stone still.

  “Sparky?” he repeated, his tone much huskier this time, much lower than a few minutes ago. The levity was gone, replaced with a heated, penetrating gaze.

  “Yeah?”

  He closed his eyes, and I watched his brows pull together. “Stop me,” he said, refocusing on my face.

  “Stop you from what?”

  As I waited for my answer, he shifted his entire body closer, eliminating the distance between us. His arm was no longer stretched straight, but slackened just enough, allowing him to rest his hand at the apex of my thigh and ass. His lips were so close, the slightest lean on my part would result
in contact. I debated, argued even, whether I should or shouldn’t. He had taken the liberty a few times now. It would only be fair for me to. Before I could act on my stupid rationale, he made the decision for me.

  “From this,” he said before pressing his lips to mine. The first few seconds were soft, sweet, tentative. When no resistance came, when the argument I should have voiced failed to find its way out of my mouth, he changed the kiss to something entirely different. Both hands now met on my lower back, his knee slid between my legs, and when his tongue skimmed over mine, back and forth, he tortured me in the best of ways.

  I should have been embarrassed by the moan I released into his mouth, but it really couldn’t have been stopped. And hearing it only seemed to fuel his determination. He pulled me into his body, causing the curve of his thigh to press perfectly against me. It provided just enough friction to cause an involuntary humping on my part. Again, I should have been embarrassed for shamelessly using his leg to try to get off, but I wasn’t at all. When his moan came, and he followed my motions with his hips, it fueled me even more.

  I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him to ensure the kiss continued. His hands moved up my back, one stopping in the center, the other sliding around and cupping my breast.

  That was all it took. One simple cupping, a skim of his thumb over my hardened nipple, and I could feel the shocks of a small orgasm rippling through me. It wasn’t nearly as intense as the first one he gave me, but it was just as satisfying.

  He broke away, his breaths coming in short, forceful pants as he gauged my reaction to what just happened. Through my haze, I considered the orgasm score: two Brae—zero Jude. Even with my mind thinking out of sorts, I knew I needed to do something for him.

  The silence between us became deafening, making my heartbeat even more amplified than it was. I removed my shaky hands from around his neck and slid them down his bare chest. One of his hands fell away from where he held my breast, landing with his knuckles pressed against the skin below my belly button. His lips parted ever so slightly as my nails traced over every bump and ridge of his abs. I could feel his eyes pinned to my face, but I wouldn’t dare to look. If I was going to do this, I needed all the courage I could muster.

  During our heated make-out session, the lightweight quilt shifted between his feet. With an impatient hand, I tossed it to the floor. Holy hell, every inch of this man was sexy. His feet, his calves, the way the muscles defined his thighs—every part of him was all male.

  The fabric of his briefs left nothing to the imagination. My eyes focused on the outline of his erection as it impatiently pushed toward his waistband, desperately wanting to be let out. It pointed right toward the star tattoo closest to it, his tip causing a slight gap in the elastic running around his hips.

  When I glanced at him, Jude looked angry. I knew him well enough now to determine it was also the same look he got when he was turned on. The way his nostrils flared, the way his brows tilted toward the bridge of his nose, were all effects of what little effort I’d already put into this crazy plan. I could only imagine what his face would look like once my mission was accomplished.

  Refocusing on his lower half, I used my fingertips to peel away his underwear. Instantly, he sprung free. Without barriers keeping him confined, he stretched proudly toward his belly button. It could have been my tiny gasp, or the way my eyes bulged, or even the way my fingers halted their movements that caused Jude to say my name. Or, it could have just been his way of saying, please don’t stop.

  There he was in all his Swedish glory. God love a Swede. If I had a Swedish flag, I’d wave it with pride. If I knew his parents’ address, I’d send them a thank you card.

  My manscaping question was answered in the neatly trimmed hair showcasing his beautiful penis. I saw him outside before our massages, but it only now registered he was cut. “So, wait . . . you’re circumcised?” I blurted out, then clamped a hand over my mouth.

  He looked down and smirked. “Wow, look at that, Sparky. It seems I am.”

  “Very funny.” My entire body flushed from head to toe. “You’re European. Doesn’t that mean you wouldn’t be?”

  “My dad’s a surgeon.” After a long, uncomfortable pause, he said, “Do you want me to formally introduce you?”

  “Wait, to your dad?”

  “No, Sparky. My cock.”

  “I’ll take care of that introduction.” The smug look on his face intimidated me, but I’d gotten this far, there was no way I’d turn back now. I dragged his briefs down his legs and repositioned myself between his spread thighs. Being so close to his manhood almost made me giggle with thoughts that maybe I should introduce myself. A quick glance at his face caused the giggling instinct to immediately fade. Sporting his sexy angry face, his greenish-brown eyes drilled right through mine. Just as I placed his tip on my tongue, he groaned and bucked his hips, wanting more.

  A sudden surge of courage controlled my actions. Keeping my eyes pinned to his, I trailed my lips up and down his length. I gripped him at the base and stood him straight up, pointing toward the fan rotating above our heads. The first few seconds, all I did was tease him, working him up with every long swipe of my tongue. I had yet to cover him with my mouth, and the anticipation he felt was obvious in the way he flexed his fingers into the sheet beneath him.

  I covered the head of his cock with my mouth, and he hissed at the contact. The angle of my body between his legs wasn’t working well, so I lifted to my knees, allowing myself the access I needed. I took him as far into my mouth as I could, my hand working the part of him that wouldn’t fit. I tightened my lips around him as I slowly moved down toward my fist, then loosened them as I dragged my tongue back up his underside toward his slit. Hard and firm going down, loose and teasing going up . . . over and over.

  He dug both hands into my hair and had a firm grasp on my head. If any other man ever did that to me, I would have immediately stopped and walked away, but having Jude do it caused a delicious clenching deep within me. I was as turned on now while pleasuring this beautiful man as I was when he pleasured me.

  The moans coming from his mouth, the way his fingertips tightened on my head, and the way his thighs flexed beside my knees all told me he was dangerously close to reaching his breaking point.

  “Brae, I’m coming.” With his admission, he tried to pull my mouth away from him. I removed one hand from his base, and slid it under his thigh to anchor myself to him. He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to stop me again. Instead, he clutched the pillow behind his head, his eyes closed shut. I took the opportunity to study his reaction. His abs flexed, showing their definition through every bump and crevice. The muscles of his arms bulged as he white-knuckled the pillow. And then, his lips parted just as he released into my mouth with a guttural groan.

  Never had I been so eager for a man to finish as I was in that moment. Never had I wanted to accept every drop he offered without wanting to flinch away once I did. For the first time in my life, I enjoyed every goddamn minute of a blow job.

  “Holy fuck,” he said when he opened his eyes. I remained on my knees, leaning back on my heels. “Brae.” He reached for me, and I accepted his hand to lay beside him on the bed.

  I waited for him to say something, anything—and once again, he frustrated me with his silence. I tried not to let my anxiety bubble to the surface, but the longer I lay there, the harder it was. He tilted my chin upwards with his thumb and index finger. His face searched mine before he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I rushed out, my eyes deceiving me by cutting to the side.

  Based on the confused look on his face, he clearly wasn’t buying it. But he obviously didn’t care enough to say anything else. What was I expecting him to say, anyway? Oh hey, thanks for doing a stellar job sucking my dick. No, but something like “that was amazing” would work. I knew he enjoyed it, that was blatantly obvious . . . but it would have been nice to hear that he did.

  While still holdin
g my chin, he leaned closer and kissed me. Before it could progress, I pecked him back and darted to the bathroom. “I’ll be back,” I called over my shoulder.

  With the door firmly closed, I stared at my reflection and sighed. A soft knock preceded an even softer, “Brae?”

  “I’ll be right out.” I needed time to think, and quickly jumped into the shower to buy that time.

  As I figured it, I had three choices. Go out there and pretend it meant nothing, just as he did. Go out there and talk to him about it. Or, go out there and tell him off. If there was one thing I wasn’t good at, it was pretending. My parents always teased me about how my feelings were always so visible on my face. So, option one would probably not work well for me, and option three wouldn’t work well for him.

  Either way, I couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever. After drying off, combing out my hair, and dressing back into what I had on, I opened the door, expecting to see him lying on the bed, his eyes focused on the door. What I found was an empty place where his stunning body had just been.

  The sound of pots clanging clued me in. I turned the corner and there he was in his briefs preparing dinner. Just as he flung a dishtowel over one shoulder, he looked up and smiled.

  “I can do that,” I said, coming closer to take the pot from his hands. “I did offer to cook tonight.”

  “No, I’ve got it. Go relax. It’s the least I can do after you . . .” He glanced up, and upon seeing my face, stopped mid-sentence. “Um . . . did my laundry yesterday,” he finished with a devilish smirk.

  “Okay.” He raised a brow at my lack of a comeback. Undeterred, I poured myself a glass of wine and went outside to my happy place.

  Jude

  I was determined to figure her out. It was frustrating as all hell. Just when I thought I had, she threw me off once again. I’d teased her before, both verbally and physically with random kisses and touches, but never had she responded like she did today.

  When she pushed herself against me as we were kissing and humped my leg to climax, my initial thought was that masseuse riled her up. However, when she blew me as fucking fabulously as she did, I knew it had to be me who riled her up.