Trickster’s Hunt

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Trickster’s Hunt Page 3

by Kel Carpenter


  Captain Birdseye approached my table, jowls wobbling as he moved, and stopped in front of me. His grey eyes scanned me, and I wondered if he was going to accuse me of cheating. He’d always been off with me, in the two years I’d been competing, and I sat forward in my seat.

  “Is that time up?”

  “You look as though you could manage dessert, Miss Reeves.”

  I smiled, leaning back, and rubbed at my full stomach. “Nah. That was really good steak. It hit the spot.”

  His eyes twinkled, face splitting into a broad grin, and he laughed. “Ladies and Gentlemen, will you please be upstanding for this year’s Competitive Eating Semi-final Winner, Miss Maia Reeves.”

  The room erupted into applause and I rose from my chair. I wasn’t that full, but I feigned it for appearance’s sake, and raised one hand. I felt Adam’s arm around my neck, and he pulled me toward him, kissing my head. “That was incredible! You saved a life, and won!”

  “That was too easy,” I said turning away. It was customary to do the rounds, exchange pleasantries with the other competitors and chat with the supporters, but I was too tired after all that drama. “Not that it matters. I’m exhausted. I want to go to bed.”

  “But the party…” He almost whined. I noticed him scanning the room, probably looking for the little clerk. He was welcome to him. I couldn’t be bothered.

  “Tell you what. I’ll go for a little sleep. You stay here. I won’t be missed, and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  5

  It was early when the knock on the door roused me. I only knew that because the sun was up, but not shining directly through the window. There was no sign of Adam when I looked to his bed. It hadn’t been slept in. Assuming it was him finally coming home, I rolled from the bed and padded to the door.

  “Nice of you to join me.”

  I was holding the door open with one hand, placing the other on my hip as I stuck it out to the side in my best sassy pose. I looked up and was met by deep brown eyes, smooth ebony skin and a look of…well, it wasn’t what I was expecting. It was somewhere between confusion and amusement, I think.

  But there was something else.

  Wearing nothing but a t-shirt and the thong I’d left on when I got in the night before, I earned a raised brow before I straightened and removed my hand from my hip.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Complimentary massage, Miss, to congratulate you on your win yesterday.”

  I grinned.

  Free massage. In my room. With this Adonis.

  Okay…I’m in.

  He wasn’t dressed as I expected a masseuse to be dressed. Not that I had much experience. As far as I knew, this stuff was done in a spa room, not in the comfort of your living room. Bedroom. Hotel room. Whatever.

  He was wearing a tight, plain black t-shirt that was stretched over the clearly toned contours of his upper body and plain black pants. I found myself wondering just how toned he was.

  He was gorgeous, and I was sure he’d been checking me out. That aside, he wasn’t coming in without proof of who he reckoned he was.

  “Do you have I.D.?”

  Lowering his eyes, his lips curved up in the corners. “Of course, Miss.” His thick Arabic accent sent a shiver through me.

  He bent to open a bag that was waiting at his feet, alongside what could only be a portable massage table, and unclipped a name badge from the handle. I felt stupid checking it as he held it out, but the hotel logo clearly printed alongside his name, role, and an employee identification number.

  He was looking at me intently, and I felt myself flush. Not just my cheeks, but my neck and chest all ignited as he dragged those molten chocolate eyes over me. There was the distinct possibility that I was overthinking the whole thing, but it had been a while since I’d had any male attention. I was just grateful that my t-shirt wasn’t covered in food.

  His credentials seemed okay, and he wasn’t giving off any bad vibes. Not that I would have picked much up over the tightening I could feel in my gut. He was gorgeous. Fighting to keep control of myself, I managed to smile.

  “Come on in.”

  Turning and walking back into the room, I was painfully aware of his presence behind me. My now racing imagination had me glancing over my shoulder to see him lift the table and bag effortlessly and follow me inside.

  Not watching my arse, I noted, disappointed. Maybe he wasn’t checking me out. Knowing my luck, he’d be on Adam’s team. They were always on Adam’s bloody team.

  “How would you like me?” I asked as he walked toward the patio doors and pulled the curtains.

  It wasn’t until the words fell out of my mouth that I realised just how desperate it sounded. It had been a long time since…well. I felt like an ass.

  Without looking at me, he began setting up his table, then reached into the bag and withdrew a sheet. When it was draped over the table top, he looked over to me and clasped his hands before him. He seemed perfectly relaxed.

  I couldn’t say the same.

  “Your full body massage will take about an hour. You will change in the bathroom, return in only a robe, and lie face down on the table covered with a sheet. I will work on your body to help you to relax using an aromatic oil. Are there any problem areas you would like me to concentrate on today?”

  It was so well rehearsed it barely sounded sincere, but I shook my head and turned to the bathroom.

  I returned to the room to find him standing with his hands clasped behind his back looking out of the far window.

  “On there, yeah?”

  Not turning to face me, he said, “Yes, please. On your front. Please cover yourself with the orange sheet.” Then he reached up and closed the blind.

  I stripped off my robe and mumbled something about being ready as I lowered my face into the little hole in the table. I didn’t think I could feel more stupid, but I was wrong.

  Feeling him folding down the fabric, exposing my back, I closed my eyes. I could smell his aftershave as he prepared the sheet and I tried not to shudder as it settled at the base of my spine.

  His voice came soft and low beside my head. “Let me know if the pressure needs adjusting. I’ll begin now.”

  It was glorious.

  The oil smelled just as spicy as his aftershave and I was certain my pulse had increased. The way it allowed his hands to glide over my skin sent heat deep into the muscles beneath his palms. Heat that spread as he worked his way up the backs of my legs. Stopping just before the edge of the sheet, he removed his hands and covered my legs.

  I was glad of the break. I know I said it had been a while, but the reality was it had been well over six months, and being presented with him, Mr. Hot, running his hands all over me…it was almost too much.

  I know it was pervy. I knew it was out of order. But he was my little gift and I was going to enjoy him. Well, I’d enjoy his hands.

  From there he moved to my back and shoulders, giving every inch of me his full, expert attention. I was caught somewhere between incredibly turned on and so relaxed I could fall asleep despite the fourteen hours I’d already had. And the sound of his voice was somehow hypnotic.

  “I will assist you to turn over, Miss.”

  I didn’t even think about it and turned over, his strong and capable hands guiding me. It wasn’t until I was on my back with my eyes wide open, staring directly into his, that I realised I was naked, save for the sheet over my hips. Then I felt another textile cover my chest as I stared unblinking into his eyes. They held me with a softness I hadn’t been expecting, and I felt my muscles liquefy.

  “Legs, abdomen, arms, chest, head.”

  I didn’t think his lips had moved, but I heard him list the areas he would be working on.

  “Close your eyes.”

  Request? Command? Whatever it was, I obeyed, sighing as his hands began working on my legs. As he crept up to my thighs, I had to stop myself from squeezing them together.

  God, he was good.


  He was silent, working slowly and carefully to relieve the tension in my body. The way his hands flowed over my abdomen felt incredible, until he paused, and I heard his sharp intake of breath. He’d moved the sheet down to expose my right hip, allowing him better access to work the muscle there when it happened, and I instantly sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest as it slipped off.

  “What? It’s only a birthmark.”

  His eyes widened. “I apologise, Miss. It was cramp…”

  I felt like a bit of a dick. Not only for overreacting toward him, but for being so self-conscious of the weirdly shaped patch on my hip. I’d always had it. Most people had one of some sort.

  He recovered quickly, stepping behind me, and placing his hands on my shoulders. “I apologise, Miss. Please, lie back.”

  Warm hands.

  Firm hands.

  My eyes rolled back as he pressed his thumbs into the trapezius, all tension draining from my body. I allowed him to guide me back and groaned when his hands left me to move back down the table, the peppery scent of him wafting by as he went, and I sucked in a breath as his hands glided up my sides.

  The strokes had changed. He didn’t stop as he reached the sheet at my chest, his thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts as he kneaded my ribs. I gasped, or I thought I did, but he continued back down my sides, over my stomach, over my hips.

  His strokes seemed to follow a rhythm. A pattern.

  As if those hands knew every inch of me so well they knew where they could and could not go if I were to maintain control of myself. I was almost certain he was hovering over me. I daren’t open my eyes to check, but I could smell him. Feel his warmth as he moved around the table.

  In the silence of the room, I realised I was short of breath and so incredibly turned on. I could feel it. Not just in my veins. It was ridiculous. It was embarrassing. He was just doing his job, which wasn’t to work me up into a horny mess, but there we were. I’d obviously been celibate too long.

  I felt him take my left hand, and the process began again until my arms, shoulders, chest, and head had all been thoroughly oiled and massaged. When he was done, he bent over the table, his hair brushing my forehead, and murmured, “Will there be anything else, Miss?”

  I opened my eyes to find myself face to face with him. There was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, an intensity that made me feel weak somehow. I couldn’t rationalise it. There was no explanation for it, other than I was gagging for whatever else he was willing to give me.

  I considered answering his question honestly.

  Yes, there was something else. There was a lot else. But, I didn’t have quite that level of confidence. Not after…

  I mean, what if he had a girlfriend and she didn’t know he was sticking it in his clients? The horny bitch in me said so what? Not my problem. But I knew how it felt to be the trusting girlfriend at home.

  So instead, I said, “N-no, that was fine, thank you,” and sat myself up, clutching the sheet to my chest.

  His lips twitched, the hint of a smile that made his gaze less intense. “Then I shall straighten the room. Drink plenty of water today. And may I suggest a bath or shower to continue the relaxing benefits of the massage? I hope that you have a good day, Miss Reeves.”

  The way he inclined his head, and the look in his eyes made my stomach turn over. I watched as he turned away and began opening the curtains. The way he reached up made something ripple in his back, those lithe muscles flexing and…Adam was right, it’d been far too long.

  And then he turned around and caught me staring.

  Frustrated more than embarrassed, I wrapped the sheet around myself and tried to walk on shaky legs to the bathroom. I locked the door and looked down at the sheet bunched in my fist.

  Yeah, I’d be spending time ‘relaxing’ alright. He was probably up for it and I’d said no, so it was on me.

  Hello, me time.

  6

  Adam rolled in at eleven. He had the decency to look a bit sheepish.

  “You missed the complimentary full body massage. The masseuse was fucking beautiful. Exactly your type: dark and mysterious. What was so important you had to ditch me, anyway?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. You didn’t come back to the party, so I came to check on you and you were out cold, so I went out and…”

  “He’d better have been good, Addie. You left me for him!”

  I was whining. I didn’t really begrudge him the lay. Really, I was glad one of us was getting some, but the whole mess of me making a fool of myself earlier that morning could have been avoided if he’d been there. But then I wouldn’t have had the experience…

  “Are you at least going to have lunch with me before you piss off home to work?”

  He screwed up his face. “You make it sound like I want to go home without you.”

  I gave him a sort of apologetic look. He really did hate his job and I felt a bit bad that he had to go home. He hadn’t had the luck I had. He needed to pay his board. Pay his bills. I know I was technically his landlady so I could just not charge him rent, but then I’d have to have a job and…well, fuck that.

  I was perfectly happy as I was, thanks very much. I had my little house, my dog, my face-filling job, and my lodger/makeup artist/hair stylist/ lifestyle coach. I had enough money coming in from my social media videos and the rent from Addie that I didn’t need a proper job. I was okay with it.

  “Fair enough. Come on, I’m famished. I’ll buy you lunch.”

  He sat back shaking his head at me as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “You said no?”

  “He was a masseuse, Addie. I didn’t know where he’d been!”

  That was my story and I was sticking to it as far as Adam was concerned. I wouldn’t tell him I’d been offered it on a plate and I bottled out. Not even he would argue against safety.

  His mouth turned down in the corners as he shrugged. “With the room void of me, you could always pick up some essentials and book him again.”

  I chuckled, pushing my tongue into my cheek. “Now there’s an idea.”

  Draining his champagne flute, he dropped the napkin onto his plate. “Well, I wish you luck in your sexual endeavours, my love.”

  “That you off?” I didn’t even try to hide the disappointment from my voice. I did not want to be alone in that city.

  “Yeah. You stay. Finish your drink. I’ll be okay getting to the station.”

  I frowned at him. I didn’t want him to go. “You sure?”

  “Yep. You may have more butch in your little finger than I have in my whole body, but I refuse to be escorted everywhere by my bouncer.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him as he leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Be safe,” I said quietly as he pulled away.

  “Get laid,” he said with a wink. “I’ll be back on Friday. Order me the duck with quince and artichoke, and I’ll be here for nine.”

  He sauntered out of the restaurant leaving me to make a note of his dinner request for Friday night because there was no way I was remembering that. For someone that ate a lot of food, I didn’t even know what quince was.

  I looked around the little restaurant at the other diners. I wasn’t sure if they were all guests at the hotel, but I recognised two couples: one was the female contestant who’d flunked the contest, and the other was the runner up. They were at opposite ends of the room, as far from each other as they could get, but I couldn’t help watching them.

  The woman was laughing and smiling at whatever her partner had said, and I felt like I was intruding on something so looked down at my plate. I could hear the guy rumbling to his partner. It sounded like a string of complaints and the longer I sat there, the more I got the feeling I was being watched. I hated the way people made me feel at times.

  Looking up again, I saw he was leaving but was still in deep complaint to the woman at his side. Not him then. I continued to scan the room, not that I’d confront whoever was staring. I just wanted to know who was making
me feel edgy. It couldn’t possibly be my imagination. No, my instincts had never served me wrong. Someone was staring at me.

  Glancing over my shoulder I caught a glimpse of the garden I’d sat in the night before. I know I looked a bit mad, but I grinned at the window. My obnoxious little mate was back, sitting on a table and staring at me, unblinking.

  Creepy little shit.

  I wrinkled my nose at him and got up. Ms. Flunked-the-Comp was still giggling at whatever her bloke was saying as they sipped cocktails, and other diners were preparing to leave. I thought that was a good idea, so I shoved in my chair and grabbed my handbag.

  Heading back to the lifts, I saw the corridor in which the spa was located. The memory of that morning’s massage set my muscles clenching, and before I could talk myself out of it, I made my way down there. I don’t know what I planned to do. Book him again? Just see if I could get a look at him?

  The door opened on silent hinges and the humid, fragranced air caught in my throat. It was nothing like the smell of the oil he’d used. This was fresher. Lemon and something…probably lavender. I could feel myself relaxing.

  “Welcome to Eden Spa.”

  I hadn’t even realised there was a small reception desk off to the left, and I would have jumped if the receptionist wasn’t speaking with a forced softness that made my scalp tingle.

  “Umm. Hiya.” Was I really going to request a male masseuse visit me in my room? Was I that much of a desperate perve? “I wondered what time the spa facilities are open until?”

  She gave me a serene smile. “Of course. The pool, relaxation area, hydration pool, sensory showers, steam room, ice room, sauna, and experience showers are accessible to hotel guests until 11:30 p.m. Lockers and robes are provided; quieter times are usually after 6:00 p.m.”

  “And if I wanted a treatment?” I was trying to sound merely curious, and not desperate to jump one of her colleagues.

  “All bookable twenty-four hours in advance.” She raised her pen. “What were you thinking? Massage?”

 

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