The Land of Rabbits (Long Shot Love Duet #1)

by Aven Jayce

  “I’m first. How dare you treat me this way. I’m sick of it, Quinn.” Smack. “Sick of it, sick of it. I’m not even driving you back, you can walk from here.”

  “It was a mistake.”

  I poke my head around the doorframe, observing him on his knees—his chin held in her hand while she grips a piece of rubber garden hose in the other.

  “Get down.”

  “No, I’ve had enough.”

  His shoulder is hit with the hose once, twice, until he’s down on all fours.

  “Roxanne, I don’t want to do this. The men here fuck everything and anything, just like my dad, and I refuse to be like him. I hate him!”

  “Then stop violating the rules. You know your position here. Stick to it.”

  “I’m better than this!”

  “You’re a nobody. Garbage left on the street.” She pulls a chair closer, sitting before him with her legs spread and her hand pushing her robe to the side, uncovering her lower body. “Look up.”

  His head’s slow to rise.

  “Open your fucking eyes, Quinn... what do you see?”

  “Don’t do this,” he begs.

  “You were just about to kiss her, now all of a sudden you don’t want a woman? Which is it?”

  “Stop.”

  His head drops and body lurches forward as his back is whacked again.

  “Uh! Ow! Enough, I get it. You’re first.”

  She places a hand on his chest and forces him to an upright position. “You can fuck after you’ve been tested, not before, and not until I get my money. She pays. Everyone pays. Got it?”

  His back’s covered in red marks as he kneels in silence.

  “Quinn.” She grips his hair, bringing his face down to a trimmed, triangular shaped spot of pubic hair. “My beautiful boy, you’re gonna love it.”

  Ugh! I race back upstairs and dash to my suite, then race back downstairs, then up again, then down to the pool. Finding myself out of breath, wanting to leave, and not wanting to leave, and having no respect for anyone here.

  “Nadine, I’m calling the cops.” I stand over her with my hands on my hips while she inhales her fantasy man’s face. “I’m not kidding. Stop kissing for a moment and listen to me.”

  “Girl, take a chill pill.”

  “Is that all you know how to say, is girl? It’s annoying. You’re a fake. Everyone here’s a fake.”

  “Well yeah, girl, we’re characters.”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  Nadine swims to the side of the pool and touches my foot, coaxing me to kneel next to her. “What happened?” she asks in a sympathetic voice, lifting out of the water. My damp hair’s stroked and placed behind my ear with care. “And how much did you drink?”

  “My anger has nothing to do with alcohol. I’m calling the cops and getting that woman arrested. She’s attacking Quinn for no reason. She’s whipping him, for fuck’s sake. Hitting him with a garden hose. It’s abuse!”

  “Nah, that’s the norm downstairs,” Sean says. “I’m sure Quinn likes it.”

  “Addie.” Lines appear on her forehead as she gives me a troubled look. “It’s not unusual play. People have all kinds of tastes when it comes to sex.”

  “I’m not thickheaded! Give me a break.”

  “Honey, there may be situations you don’t understand with these types of fantasies. Believe me, a man his age wouldn’t stay if he were being hurt. See... there he is. He seems fine.”

  He staggers to the opposite side of the pool, picking up his wet clothes.

  “Look at his back,” I insist.

  “Yes, that’s familiar, like riding crop marks. You know, Brian and I—”

  “Oh God, don’t. I hate it that you’re brushing this off. I’m not overreacting to his beating because of my mom, if that’s what you think.” I move away and grab a beer from the bar, turning to see him walk by without saying a word. “You okay?” I call out before he disappears inside with no response—his excitement’s been stolen away.

  “We love cops,” Sean responds. “They know what to expect when they pay for a spank and a thrash.”

  I give him a disgusted look as Nadine swims into his arms. With her and Brian here, I can’t get the police involved. Brian’s career would be over if anyone found out he was at this place. College administrators hate bad press, and a story about their head football coach with a whore would be scandalous. He’d be disgraced.

  The exterior door swings open and Roxanne appears, stepping outside to light another cigarette.

  Don’t waste your time hating people. Promenade your ass away from them.

  Not this time, Mom.

  I strut in her direction, rolling my hoodie sleeves and thinning my lips. I’m ready to give her a taste of my... I’m gonna... I’m... she better get ready for...

  There’s no hesitation as she prepares with crossed arms, so fucking pleased with herself. She’s ready to devour me whole.

  I chicken out as I approach, apprehensive and uneasy, choosing the comforts of my beer over a confrontation. Maybe if she were wearing clothes under that robe... or if she wasn’t two inches taller than me and twice my weight.

  “Can I help you?” The glowing end of her cigarette crackles, plummeting ash onto my feet.

  I drink.

  Smoke shrouds my face.

  More beer.

  More smoke.

  I take a step closer.

  She walks straight up to me and presses her big areolas against my chest.

  “What do you want? Speak your mind.”

  “I want him.”

  “The massage room, not yours. And the door stays open.”

  “Fine.”

  “A grand.”

  “Fine.”

  “Quinn!” She snaps her fingers. “You’re on the clock.”

  Chapter Four

  EUPHORIA

  WHITE CANDLES burn beside a meditation fountain on a steel table in the corner of the room. I remove my towel, draping it across the arm of the red leather club chair next to the open door.

  I’ve never had a massage.

  My adrenaline’s pumping, my arms and legs are covered in goose bumps, and my nipples are erect under my bikini. I hope I can relax enough to enjoy this.

  “Ahem.” Quinn clears his throat, stepping into the room.

  I sit on the edge of the massage table and fidget, struggling to get comfortable, looking as inelegant as someone trying to ice skate for the first time. My legs cross then uncross. Cross and uncross.

  He smiles and places a bottle of lotion and a washcloth on the table. I don’t know if I should be on my back, or my stomach, or what the fuck I’m supposed to do.

  “I’m not one bit relaxed.”

  “You will be.”

  His adorable smile’s contagious and I’m glad he’s in higher spirits than when he came up from the basement.

  He dims the lights and a predictable soundtrack of a babbling brook with chirping birds plays overhead.

  “I can put some music on instead. Or turn it off if you’d like. Just say the word.”

  “It’s fine... are you wearing boxers under that towel? Because... I thought this was just a touch. There’s no sex involved, like I shouldn’t expect an adventurous finger to slide in me, or any penetration, or tongues, or... damn it. I’m so nervous. I’m getting a massage, that’s all. Right?”

  He places two fingers under the waistline of the white towel that covers his dick, delaying his next move. “It’s your choice. Most women expect full-frontal when they have this done.”

  I fall back on the table and spread my arms. “Oh my God!”

  “I guess I’ll leave it on.”

  “I don’t want to see it before I get to see it.”

  “What?” He laughs. “I’m not following.”

  “Well, it... it should be in a different context. I just... Jesus, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I didn’t want to
pay for a man... for you... but I have a feeling going back to what we started in the pool won’t be possible for the rest of the night.”

  His head shakes. “Sorry, nope. That’s not gonna happen.”

  “Are you okay?” I sit upright and twirl my finger for him to show me his back.

  “Enough!” Roxanne shouts from the room across the hall. “Explain the rules and get on with it. Stop the chatter!”

  A line appears between the groomed brows of his heart-shaped face. He squirts oil onto his hands, giving them a gentle rub before patting the table for me to recline.

  “You swear you’re not a prostitute? I’ve got your word that you don’t fuck women who come here. You’re not sold for sex?”

  He stands behind me, kneading his fingers down the sides of my neck. “Shh. Let me explain. What’s going to happen is simple... my job is to provide you with pleasure. I’ll be touching your body from head to toe, and if you’re uncomfortable, just ask me to stop. You can request the towel on or off my waist at any time. You’re allowed to explore every inch of me with your eyes, but you can’t touch. I’m the one in control of what’s caressed.”

  “Why?”

  Coconut scented hands slide down my chest, radiating a heated sensation above my tits. His unhurried touch and comforting presence are a nice change from his aggressive behavior when I first arrived. He’s focused on the moment, making sure I’m at ease.

  “I’m not here for you to fondle. There’re other men at Afterglow for that. My job is to give you a release with the gentle care of my hands across your beautiful body. This is all about you. The sheet underneath you can be used to cover your body during the massage. Blindfolds and earplugs are also available. I suggest the blindfold to block the flickering candlelight if you’re not interested in seeing my dick.” He slips a rolled bath towel under my head and lights a woodsy scented incense stick. “Okay so far?” he asks.

  “Yes. Blindfold please.” Soft fabric slides over my head, transporting me into total darkness, and a moment later, a heated washcloth’s used to bathe my arms, torso, legs, and feet, easing some of my nerves. “Now, you can remove the towel.”

  “Really? That’s a first. You want the towel off, even though you can’t see me?”

  “Is it strange?”

  “No, stimulating. I like it. Let your imagination run free.”

  My foot’s raised to rest upon his abdomen while his oil laden hands work my ankle and calf.

  “My touch can be hard, soft, or anywhere in-between, again, that’s your choice.”

  “Soft... no, hard... soft and hard.” I smile.

  “Okay, soft and hard it is.” His moist lips press below my knee and I’m taken off guard by the kiss. I inhale with a protruding chest, experiencing a slight arousal. “I’ll be close to sensitive areas of your body,” his hand advances toward my bikini bottom, “but stay calm,” my inner thigh clenches, “my touch will never cross any forbidden lines.”

  “Fuck,” I mumble, as his hand retreats down my leg.

  “Maybe someday,” he teases, sneaking another kiss, this time on my ankle. “I also promise to give you total satisfaction. I’m skilled at evaluating the guests when they arrive and can sense what a person needs when they walk into this room.”

  “What do I need?” I ask.

  He answers by lowering my foot to meet his mammoth erection. In an instant, my hand’s covering my mouth, capturing a big gasp. Shit.

  He leans closer, putting pressure between his flesh and mine. “You, Adlyn, need to know what it’s like to lust after a man,” he says in a velvety voice. “To have urges you can’t control... to want a guy so badly that you can’t eat or sleep. A lust so strong it hurts... hurts when he’s gone and hurts when he’s standing right by your side. That’s what you need.”

  Once I have a chance to swallow, I say, “Lust isn’t love.”

  “But lust can turn into love. Sex comes before marriage.”

  I laugh. “That’s true for most people. What about you? What do you need?”

  He pauses. There’s no movement for a good minute. I tug the sheet over my stomach, wanting to feel protected as I wait.

  “Quinn?”

  He guides my hand to his scars, staying quiet so Roxanne doesn’t catch on that I’m touching him. I trace the shape, trying to make out the injury. Jagged lines... five... ten. At least twelve marks.

  “One final rule to follow. You can tell me about yourself, but don’t ask about my life outside of Afterglow. It’s not allowed.” His soft fingertips graze down my stomach, hip, and leg, stopping with one finger on the end of my toe. “Lie face down and we’ll begin.”

  “I thought we already did.” I turn over and rest my head on the towel.

  It’s a gradual start. My leg muscles are worked like they’re being sculpted—up and down with deep rubs. His hands climb until he reaches the side strings of my bikini bottom. It’s untied, but kept in place, giving him room to explore my hips with no clothing interruptions.

  I begin to lose myself in his touch. Long, strokes turn into detailed rhythmic waves rolling down my sides and back.

  “Wow,” I whisper. “That’s amazing. How long have you been doing this?”

  “A year. Started last summer.”

  “You’ve been here for an entire year?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “And you haven’t slept with anyone? Like, not even other employees? How about the cat my uncle’s with? She’s pretty.”

  “Hmm, no.”

  “No, she’s not pretty, or no you—”

  “Shh. Focus on my touch... breathe with me.”

  Two... three... four deep inhales and exhales combined with the warmth of the room, the smell of incense, and the pleasing combination of sounds—his low voice, hands kneading my flesh, and the running water in the fountain—all come together to ignite my senses.

  “Forget what I said earlier about not being relaxed. You have the magic touch.” I speak in a quiet voice, hungry for privacy from the open door leading to Roxanne’s room. “Are you happy?” I ask, lowering my arms to my sides.

  “Right now I am.” He gives me a delicate kiss on my palm before mounting the table and straddling my upper legs.

  My pulse leaps... his dick just swiped my thigh. It’s such a beast, much larger than the other ones I’ve... it’s... it’s sliding further up... a solid length resting on my bikini bottom... right over my ass!

  “Remember, tell me if you’re uncomfortable and I’ll stop.”

  “It’s extraordinary.” I exhale a shameless moan.

  His touch is gentle, yet powerful and erotic, and I doubt this saddle straddle is the norm.

  “Glad you like it.”

  I blush and position my arms under my chest. “Did you do this before you came here?”

  “Sorry, can’t say.” He manages to remove the towel from under my head without disrupting my peaceful state of mind. “Lift.” He pats my ass and the rolled towel’s placed under my abdomen and clit. “The pressure of it will awaken you... every push, stroke, and twist of your skin... each movement forward will force your body into motion along with mine. When you slide with me, you’ll feel an arousing energy. As we move back, you’ll feel it again. A gradual build will be achieved, stimulating all parts of your body.”

  His firm hands are on my lower back, pushing forward, massaging my muscles all the way to my shoulders. Our bodies flow back as his hands tumble down my spine. He does it again and the folded towel rubs my clit. It’s fucking incredible.

  “That’s provocative.”

  “And comforting?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t expect that. My head’s being caressed along with my muscles. It’s wonderful. Plus the towel down there...”

  “I was hoping you’d like it.”

  He puts his weight into a deep rub over my shoulder blades. My moans are louder, causing his dick to twitch over my ass. He continues the m
ovement for thirty minutes, our bodies becoming one, synchronized, gliding back and forth on the table in harmony. I don’t have a clue how he did it, but I’ve never felt this at ease with a guy—and not just with his behavior, his body too. Usually, it’s the other way around.

  “You wet?” he whispers. “Are you thinking about me?”

  “Maybe.” I stay face down so he can’t see my smile.

  “Turn over.” He lifts, giving me enough room to flip and reposition. I hold my bikini bottom in place, except the top piece slides up, subjecting him to my small chest. Damn it. I grab the fabric, but then the bottom piece drops. No! I’m sure the rash from my bad shave job is exposed. Ergh! Fuck. I’m a mess. My hands are in a frantic state until they’re intercepted and lowered by his.

  “That’s my fault.” He casually sets both pieces back in place. “I untied you.”

  “I don’t have much to hold the top in place. It must’ve been a hideous sight, sorry. My body’s average. Bland compared to the women you see every week. I have no chest... it’s not sexy... and I’m depressed and not eating right, so my ribs and hips stick out.” Stop rambling, Addie. You sound like an idiot. He doesn’t care. “I’m missing the nice curves real women have. Sorry, are we finished? Should I leave?”

  “No. Of course not.” His tender fingers brush across my cheek, hinting that it’s okay. “Average to some can be exquisite beauty to others. It’s too bad you see yourself that way. You’re far from average, but I hear it a lot.”

  “Not here.”

  “Yes, here. Most women paying for my care just want to be touched by a man one last time... they have cancer or other medical problems... and some are too old to enjoy vaginal sex. They need care in other ways. They’re single, divorced, or widowed, many of them extremely lonely. Some say it’s hard to find a guy who’ll touch them once they’ve reached a certain age or a later stage of their illness, even if it’s just for a massage. They can’t get what they need. Isn’t that fucking sad?”

  “It is sad.”

  “And if I’m the last man they’re with, I make sure I offer a special evening to each one, even if it’s just words. Sometimes that’s enough.”