Confined with the CEO and the Bodyguard

by Jordana Pearce

  “Not exactly.” There is nothing between us. I’m horny as hell for her, but mostly, I just want to rip the damn mask off and see what she looks like. “I think she’s hot. Or could be, if I ever got a glimpse of her.”

  “So, you’re not going to mind when I ask her for the sexy massage.” He winks. I know he’s teasing me, but I sense that he’s testing the waters. My instinct that Dakota is also angling to get into Sadie’s Daisy Dukes is on point.

  “If Sadie’s willing to do sexy massages, I better book two a day,” I say. Maybe three. The past couple of weeks have been torture. During the day all I do are boring fence checks, tend my garden and cook. Housework leaves plenty of time for thinking about all the ways we could—and then it hits me.

  “Hey.” My palms get so moist with nervousness that the watering can slips in my grasp. “Dakota. What if we said that for the next few weeks, until this pandemic blows over, we don’t have to play by the usual rules.”

  He gives me a searching look. “You mean...share?”

  “Only if she wants to,” I say hastily. “Sadie doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Her van’s ready to quit. I don’t know what her story is, but I do know she seems pretty happy to live alone in the cottage. I don’t want to run her off.”

  “If she’s into it, we could be a fuck pod. I like it.” He grins. “And I’m also looking very forward to feeling her hands on my...back.” His grin falls. “But mostly, I want to get to know our mysterious guest a lot better. She hasn’t been as chatty over text messages with me as she has been with you.”

  “Let’s think about how we might propose the idea of an extended threesome without scaring Sadie off,” I say. We clink beers.

  Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

  4

  Sadie

  I’ve set up my massage chair and table in the second bedroom of the cottage. Today is my first session, and I am nervous for reasons I am trying very hard not to think about. There will be one with each man. First up will be Beau, since he has a specific issue for which he needs treatment. I’m reviewing his intake form when he knocks at my door.

  Ha—no, it’s not “my door.” Just because this has been the best two weeks of my adult life, does not mean that it is my home, I remind myself. The cottage belongs to Beau Reed, no matter how much I wish it were mine. I am pretty sure that he’s the unnamed CEO mentioned on their website. Technically, the ranch is held by an LLC. I know from researching how to start my own business that this is a common way to protect the assets of an owner—not that I have any to protect, personally.

  Since I always see Dakota doing manual labor like fixing the fences and taking care of the horses, I assume he’s Beau’s assistant. But neither of them has explained much about the property. Most of what I know I’ve picked up by reading The Black Diamond Ranch website and peppering Beau with text messages on my new, borrowed phone.

  “Hi, Sadie,” Beau says in that sexy Southern drawl of his. It feels like a caress, as does the way his gaze skims down my body.

  I shiver. I am in my usual work clothes, a pair of leggings and a T-shirt. I am not wearing a mask. Beau and Dakota have effectively been quarantining, too, so there’s no point. The only other people on the ranch are the Hinsons, and I haven’t had any contact with them. His gaze comes back up to rest on my face. My cheeks heat.

  “Hi Beau,” I respond as evenly as I can manage.

  “You’re even prettier than I thought you’d be,” he drawls, cupping my chin. He tilts my face up to inspect me. It should feel invasive, but the brush of his fingers on my skin feels so welcome after so much alone time. I shiver again. My nipples pucker inside my shirt. I admit, I have spent a ridiculous amount of time fantasizing about both men over the past two weeks. They’re ridiculously good-looking, and lucky me, I get to work on their delicious muscles.

  Not that I will be anything other than one-hundred-percent professional about it.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  A smile ghosts over his lips. “Always so polite.”

  I grin. “No. Not always. But I try to put my clients at ease.” I gesture to the table which is made up in pristine white sheets and towels. I like white because it is easy to bleach and it gives the impression of cleanliness. “I see from your intake form that you’re thirty-six, and that you have ongoing pain in your lumbar region stemming from a recent injury.” He nods confirmation. “I’ll let you get undressed. Lay on the table face down. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

  “How old are you, Miss Banes?” he asks softly. I freeze mid-step.

  Old enough to know I have no business wanting him the way I do. Beau Read is fourteen years older than me. I know from the form he filled out that Dakota turned twenty-nine last month. I peek over my shoulder. Ignoring the twinkle in his blue eyes, I inform him, “I am twenty-two.”

  Then, I leave.

  In truth there’s nothing I need to do. I am all set up. I wash my hands again, just to be thorough. The window in the other room is open and there’s a fire going in the kiva stove. There is no practical way to avoid getting infected if he is sick, but just in case, I’ll take as many precautions as possible.

  As it turns out, I am unable to take any precautions about the effect of seeing Beau’s naked back. There’s a towel draped across his buttocks, but he has eschewed the top sheet I had laid out.

  Oh, and he’s definitely not wearing underwear.

  My breath hitches. It’s not the first time I’ve run into a man in the buff on a table. A couple of times, I’ve had a client try to get me to give him a tug. It’s not that I don’t know how to. It’s that I refuse to engage in sex work—massage therapy is my way out of that world. I don’t want the two to intermingle in any way.

  Or at least I didn’t, until today. I turn on the music and busy myself with hot stones and lubricant. I use plain almond oil, since I know he doesn’t have a nut allergy. I inhale, and then lean over his prone body.

  The moment my hands touch him, Beau exhales audibly. He groans as I begin to knead my way from the center of his back to his shoulders. His very broad, muscled, tan shoulders. There’s a lot to admire about his physique. The low light and soft music make it very hard to keep my thoughts where they should be. Instead, I find myself thinking about the same things I’ve spent the past two weeks contemplating: sucking his hard cock, and riding him like a rodeo bull.

  Look, I’ve been lonely for a long time, okay? A girl can dream.

  “How’s the pressure?” I ask with all the professionalism I can muster.

  “You can do it harder.”

  My insides squirm. I force myself to focus and work down to his low back. I can feel the knots on either side of his spine. Beau winces when I goose a sore spot by accident.

  “Sorry,” I mumble. He smells faintly earthy with an underlying hint of masculine spice. He relaxes beneath my touch. “Now I know where your injury is.”

  He chuckles, though the sound is muffled. I feel it rumble under his ribs. It makes my heart skip a beat and my stomach drop as though I’m on the downside of a roller coaster.

  Here’s the thing: I have daddy issues a mile wide. Beau pushes every malfunctioning button I have.

  Older man? Check.

  Authoritative? Double check.

  Not likely to return my affections? Triple check. I’m just a 22-year-old nobody who’s seen too much of life. I’m projecting all my unmet needs for safety and love onto this man. My brain knows it’s unrealistic, but my hormones don’t.

  I close my eyes against the wave of desire that swells through me.

  “Time to turn you over, Mr. Reed.” I hold up the towel and stare at the opposite wall while he shifts position. I drop it over his groin, low enough to get a glimpse of his Adonis belt—the furrow beneath his hip bones. Unh. The sight hits me like a fist of pure lust.

  I remind myself sternly that I can’t afford to mess this up. All I have to do is keep my libido in check for a few weeks. I can do that.

&n
bsp; Besides, I know perfectly well that Beau isn’t relationship material. What I need more than a chance to work out my issues on the hard cock of a daddy figure, is a relationship—one that won’t crumble if I happen to show my body to the wrong person or, worse, people.

  But it isn’t Beau’s chiseled chin and blue eyes that come to mind. Instead, it’s Dakota’s firm hands and kind eyes. I inhale sharply and force myself to pay better attention to the task at hand. It’s’ll confusing to want two men at the same time, knowing that I can only have one.

  Do I choose Beau, the older man who represents all the figures who’ve rejected me throughout my life? Or do I reach for Dakota, the man onto whom I’ve projected the stability I crave?

  Dakota’s kind eyes are burned into my memory, as if to say, I be here when you’re ready. But you have to find the courage to ask me for what you want.

  I inhale and return my focus to Beau’s muscular chest. There’s a delightful whorl of hair between his pecs. Two flat male nipples peek at me from nests of crisp hair.

  What I need is both men, together—as if that would ever happen. I sigh.

  “Beg your pardon?”

  My face flames, but I manage to maintain my professionalism by squirting a little more lubricant into my palm and moving to his thighs. I must have spoken out loud.

  “Nothing,” I mutter. “I was just thinking about...”

  Cock. Speaking of which, my face is about twelve inches from a very impressive lump under my crisp white towel. I feel my brows pull into a scowl. Like I need the temptation at this particular moment.

  “Thinking about where I’ll go if things don’t work out here at the Black Diamond,” I say quickly. “Where I’ll go if you kick me out.”

  “Do you have anywhere else to live? Family?”

  “No.”

  I dig my elbow into Beau’s iliotibial band, partly to cut off any more questions about my past. He tenses and then moans with release. This does not alleviate my desire in any way. I do feel momentary satisfaction that I’ve identified a problem spot, though. “We’ll keep working on this. Your hips are very tight, Mr. Reed. Your lower lumbar isn’t getting better because your pelvic region is locked up.”

  “Is that so,” he drawls. I may have pushed a little too hard. His face is ashen beneath his tan.

  I am saved by the bell, literally. A timer beeps quietly in the background. I turn it off, and when I return to Beau’s side, I find him watching me with hooded eyes. My stomach flips. I glance away. “I’ll give you some stretches to do. I’ll meet you in the living room after you shower and dress.”

  I open the door to the bathroom. Beau doesn’t wait for me to leave. He rolls over and off the side of the table, standing up. I try not to look—professionalism, Sadie—but I get a clear view of his naked butt.

  I drop my eyes and gather the linens. When I stand straight again with my arms full of bundled cotton, I find him inches from my side. He cups my chin. “You’re skittish, Sadie Banes. What happened to turn you into such a scaredy-cat?”

  I jerk away. My gaze drops to the floor. Heat flushes through me as I realize I’m staring at his erect cock. Wow.

  There are so many ways this could go wrong.

  I summon every last ounce of my hard-won discipline. I will not screw up this opportunity. “Ask me sometime when you have your clothes on.”

  He chuckles and swings into the shower.

  I toss the sheets into the laundry and wash my hands. There’s no point in changing my oil-spotted outfit. If I wanted to look sexy I’d have stuck with stripping.

  Dakota raps on the door the instant I fold onto the couch. “Hey,” he says. “Is this still a good time?”

  He smells faintly of mint and masculinity. I am so comforted by his arrival that I close my eyes.

  “Yes. Perfect. Beau is just taking a shower. I’ll set up the table as soon as he’s finished.”

  Dakota laughs. “That might be a while. He’s a bit of a princess.”

  “Really?” I snort. “I would not have guessed that about him.” I flip through Dakota’s questionnaire and try to resume my thin façade of professionalism. “So, you have upper-back tension that causes soreness in your shoulders. Is this related to phone usage?”

  “Like staring down at a device? No. It’s all about holding my arms out like this while training Diablo.” Dakota demonstrates.

  “Who’s Diablo?” I ask, thinking it might be a dog. I’ve seen one or two around the property. It wasn’t clear whether they were the same animal or different ones with similar markings. They seem to hang out around the barn, where the Hinsons live in a converted apartment upstairs. I know this because Beau has told me quite a bit about the inner functions of The Black Diamond Ranch over text messages.

  “The horse that threw Beau a few weeks ago.” Dakota flashes me a grin. My heart flutters in a very different way. More curiosity and yearning, less angsty wrongness.

  “Are you going to sell that devil beast?” asks Beau. His abrupt arrival startles me. I drop the pen I’m holding, and bend to pick it up. In retrospect, I should’ve spent my quarantine time doing just about anything other than masturbating several times a day to the thought of fucking these two men. It seemed harmless at the time, but now, being in the same room with them is torturing my nerves.

  Especially since they get to be naked.

  Professionalism, Sadie, I remind myself sternly.

  It does not help matters to find both men subtly eyeing the front of my ratty shirt when I sit up again. “Beau, let me show you two stretches for your IT band and lower back.” I cross my legs and bend forward until there’s a gentle pull up the side of my thigh. When he doesn’t mimic me, I stand up.

  “You want me to do that?” he asks. His eyes twinkle with teasing humor.

  “Yes.” To my surprise, he complies. I admit that I enjoy watching his body contort. The fresh gray Henley-style shirt he’s wearing is rolled up to expose his sinewy forearms. You’d look too, okay?

  Besides, they’ve been checking me out since the day I arrived here. Turnabout is fair play and all.

  “Great. Now cross your legs the other way and do it again. Hold that stretch for thirty seconds on each side, and repeat the exercises twice a day.”

  I am proud of myself for regaining my equanimity. I briskly scoop up my clipboard and cast a glance at Dakota. “Ready?”

  “Didn’t you say there were two exercises?” drawls Beau.

  So much for my composure.

  “Right.” I drop the objects I’m holding onto the couch and stretch my arms overhead. Both men watch me intently. Suddenly, I feel the side of me that gyrated against poles for the pleasure of men (and occasionally women; honestly, they were the best tippers) take over. I enjoyed performing when I was on the stage. It was dealing with the lap dances and working the floor for tips that I didn’t care for, but that’s how you make the real money as a stripper. Guys will tip you a hundred bucks to flirt with them in a booth for half an hour, but you usually get a single dollar for wiggling your ass in their face. It’s all about the personal touch, so to speak.

  Anyway, I stick out my chest and reach my arms overhead. The thin cotton pulls over my boobs. My patients instantly take notice. “Like this. Take your wrist in your hand and bend sideways.”

  I demonstrate. The men watch me, and I give them a little smirk of my own. Then I drop my hands to my sides and slap my thighs briskly. “Try these exercises for a few days, Mr. Reed, and then we’ll add on a more challenging stretch,” I say. Then I look his companion directly in the eye. “Are you ready, Mr. Wilson?”

  He rises. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I am mesmerized by the quirk of a smile that plays on his lips. Given my already-aroused state, I duck my head and internally whisper a prayer that I can keep my mind where it belongs—on my future. If these men let me stay after the lockdown is over, I’ll be able to save money and I won’t have to worry about housing. I’ll have the time and space to start execu
ting the plan I developed during my quarantine period.

  One thing is certain: getting into bed with these men would be the fastest way to screw things up.

  5

  Dakota

  Having Sadie’s hands on me is both torture and bliss. There’s no question that she is a very good masseuse.

  “How do you like the pressure?” she asks. Her voice is a little husky. The sexy sound hangs in my ear. For the next forty minutes, I lay face down as she glides her strong hands up and down my back, digs into the spot under my shoulder blades that always hurts, and soothes the tight bands at my neck. It’s bliss. The best part, though, isn’t her quiet efficiency as Sadie moves around my body. It’s basking in her presence, listening to her breathe and feeling her hands slip over my skin.

  By the time she asks me to flip onto my back, I am in a predicament. I’m not going to demean her professionalism by asking for a “happy ending,” but I do think about it for a minute, which doesn’t help matters.

  She makes it easy for me, though. Sadie holds the sheet in front of her face and looks demurely away while I turn over, then drops it over my midsection. It’s strange, being able to watch her work. She’s so efficient.

  Then I remember I can talk to her.

  Only I can’t think of anything to say. Sadie has me feeling awkward and tongue-tied. For a while, I lie there and let her press my aching arms. It hurts a little, but then, everything does when you’ve fixed miles of washed-out fencing.

  “How long have you been riding horses?” she asks as she runs a hard finger down my bicep.

  “Since I was a kid. My dad bought me a pony when I was eight. I had—have—ADHD and it helped me learn to focus. I guess it’s a technique used in France or something. Anyway, I started jumping, learned dressage, won some awards in shows.” I say this nonchalantly, but this was one place I could excel above my hyper-achieving siblings. “I fell out of the circuit for a while in college and after, but I always knew I’d spend all day with horses if I had the opportunity.”