The Masseuse (16 page)

I
couldn’t break up with him in the morning. It was a blur anyway—I was exhausted, and he had to be back at Mr. Stein’s early. We didn’t talk about what had happened during the night, and I was grateful for that. He dropped me off at my apartment and promised to call when he had a chance. Part of me wondered if he was feeling the same itch to run that I was.

I was grateful for the distraction at work. As Mr. Stein had requested, I had an appointment this evening with him—the time was sent via text by Ms. Rowe. But until then, I had eight hours to figure out what to do about Alec Flynn.

Ten o’clock found me slumped in Amy’s chair, getting my hair twisted into a messy over-the-shoulder braid while I peeled the cardboard sleeve off my coffee.

“Are you going to tell me, or do I get to guess?” Amy finally said.

“I love him,” I blurted out, without looking up. “And I’m going to break up with him tonight.”

“That’s a little confusing.” Amy added the finishing touches to my hair, as if I’d just told her it looked like it might rain outside.

“You’re telling me.”

“If you love him, why are you breaking up with him?”

“Because it’s the smart thing to do.”

“Oh,” she nodded knowingly. “Was that in your horoscope? Bad love in Mercury’s ninth house, better break up with the hot guy you’re dating.”

I gave her a nasty look. “Don’t be mean.”

“Don’t be stupid.” She frowned. “Look, I love you, but you can’t keep dropping everything every time things start going well. Most people wait until they go bad before doing that.”

“I’m not most people,” I said.

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “I know. But sooner or later you’re going to get tired of running.”

I pondered this as I made my way toward the front desk to greet my first client. Derrick, looking very fierce in his retro black boots and striped tee, informed me I had been double-booked at eleven, but that one of my clients could come back during lunch if I was willing to skip my break, which I was. The busier I was, the better.

“Now that that’s settled,” he said, pulling me off to the side. “I saw your sexy client last night.”

I groaned, taking this for one of Derrick’s sarcastic jokes. “Melvin Herman came here?”

“No.” Derrick shook his head emphatically. “Not Melvin. The other guy. Tall, hair like an Abercrombie model, perfect teeth.”

I swallowed. Alec did have perfect teeth.

“Alec Flynn,” I said.

“That’s it. Shame he isn’t gay; he was getting cozy with some redhead.”

“He was, was he?” I muttered.

I realized Charlotte wasn’t the only redhead in the world, but it seemed a little too coincidental they’d be out together after the last time I saw them at Mr. Stein’s house.

I busied myself straightening the comment cards. “Where did you see him?”

“At Peaches, down on the waterfront. Shady place, not my usual scene, but I like the bartender. We met last week at . . .”

“What time?” I asked.

“Oh God.” Derrick scratched his temple. “Late. I don’t know, it was after midnight. Maybe one? Why?”

I had a sinking feeling in my gut, and was almost glad for it. This definitely made my decision easier.

“No reason,” I said as my client arrived.

So maybe I’d planned on walking away from him anyway, but I would be damned if he was going to humiliate me.

Alec Flynn was a dead man.

*

By the time I pulled into Mr. Stein’s estate I was ready to rock. The hurt I’d felt when talking with Derrick had been squashed by anger—anger that had festered all afternoon until I was counting down the minutes until I could see Alec in person. I knew I should just cut my losses and walk away, but I couldn’t. Not when he’d made it abundantly clear that we were exclusive and Charlotte was only work.

He’d texted twice, but I hadn’t responded. I couldn’t without sounding pissed off, and I didn’t want to give him a chance to come up with an excuse. I wanted to see his face when he found out I knew he was a liar.

But as I walked up to the house, I faltered. I thought of how I’d met him on the street outside these walls, and how we’d had this unreal, intense sexual chemistry right from the beginning. I remembered the first time we’d been together, and how he’d made me feel things I hadn’t thought possible. I stopped before I made it to the front steps, feeling like the massage table over my shoulder weighed a thousand pounds.

“What am I doing here?” I murmured.

My skin prickled with the awareness that someone was watching me. I turned my head quickly and saw Bobby leaning against the black SUV parked on the opposite side of the fountain. He didn’t move, just continued to stare at me in that way that made me wish I was wearing a hooded parka and snow pants instead of my thin black yoga pants and fitted T-shirt.

“Creep,” I said quietly, and climbed the steps.

Ms. Rowe checked me off her electronic schedule and ushered me upstairs to the balcony. Alec wasn’t there, but as I finished setting up, I eyed the security cameras and wondered if he could see me.

Mr. Stein’s massage went by excruciatingly slowly. He didn’t speak. I should have been glad for that after yesterday’s session, but instead the silence made me antsy. Part of me wanted to ask about Charlotte, but I figured that wasn’t exactly professional.

I was almost finished when the balcony door opened and Alec appeared.

Seeing him made my chest hurt. He was painfully gorgeous, and with that dark possessive look in his eyes it was impossible not to feel drawn to him. I almost felt bad for us. We were good together when I wasn’t weighed down with baggage and he wasn’t being a lying, cheating man-whore.

As he watched me slide my hands over Maxim Stein’s back, his fists bunched and then deliberately opened, making my anger rekindle. He didn’t get to be jealous after he’d left me naked in the middle of the night to be with another woman.

I focused on Mr. Stein’s neck and tried to act like Alec wasn’t there.

After a few moments, he cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, boss.”

Mr. Stein turned his head so he was facing Alec, but motioned me to continue with one hand.

“Is everything ready?” he asked Alec.

I moved down Mr. Stein’s oil-slicked back, watching Alec from under my eyelashes. His gaze was flicking between the balcony and us, and through his crisp, button-up shirt I could see that his shoulder muscles were tense. His discomfort wasn’t about me, I realized, but Stein. I could almost feel the strain in the space between them. Strange, considering Alec had said the man was like a father to him. It occurred to me I’d never seen them together.

Alec nodded. “You sure you don’t want your nephew on this one?”

“If I’d wanted him on it, he’d be on it. I need this to go smoothly.”

I didn’t know who Stein’s nephew was, but it didn’t sound like the boss had much faith in him. As I moved around to the other side of the table, he caught my forearm.

Alec stepped forward, eyes on where Stein and I made contact. For the first time I met his gaze, saw his jaw twitch and his eyes narrow, and then the way his expression smoothed to become unreadable.

“Stay on that side,” Stein said, oblivious to Alec’s concern. “I liked what you were doing there.”

“Please,”
I reminded him, removing my arm from his grip.

Stein smirked.

“Please,” he repeated. “I’ll say this much, Alec, your girl isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind.”

“No, she’s not,” Alec agreed. It baffled me that Stein couldn’t sense Alec’s discomfort. The air felt thin enough to snap in half.

“And she gives one hell of a massage.”

“I wouldn’t know,” muttered Alec.

I wasn’t sure if that was meant to make me feel guilty or not.

“Keep me updated,” Stein told him, an obvious dismissal. “I’ll see you in a few days when you get back.”

I tried not to let my surprise show. Alec hadn’t told me he was going away. But he hadn’t told me he was going to a bar with Charlotte, either.

He seemed torn on whether to stay or to go. Finally, he left the way he’d come, leaving us to finish.

The second Mr. Stein had cleared the balcony after his massage, Alec returned.

I was kneeling on the floor, gathering my supplies, and he reached under the center of the massage table to undo the latches so it would collapse in half. It bothered me that he was helping, that he was going to try to pretend everything was normal.

“If Max wasn’t the boss, I might’ve had to kick his ass back there,” he grumbled.

“It’s my job,” I said sharply.

“Even so, it’s not going down as one of my favorite moments.”

I threw the water basin into my duffle, where it made a satisfying clank against the wooden deck of the balcony, and then I stood and rounded on him.

“Was last night one of your favorite moments?”

One of his brows cocked. “Which part?”

I shook my head, snatching the table from him as best I could. It was big and clunky, though, and ended up tipping over onto the deck. I was so steamed I could have kicked it.

“Let’s see,” I hissed. “The part after you almost screwed me, but before you actually screwed me.”

He moved toward me quickly, making my breath catch in my throat. Before I knew it, he’d backed me into the balcony railing, and I was gripping his biceps, dizzy from the height.

“I don’t remember us screwing last night,” he said quietly. “That was something else. And if I recall, you didn’t seem to mind.”

I couldn’t look at him.

He leaned forward, lips brushing along my temple. My breath came faster against my will.

“If you want to know what I was doing with Charlotte, just say so.”

I pushed him back, throat burning. “You’re not even going to deny you were with her.”

He gave me a dangerous smirk. “Did you want me to?”

“No.” I frowned. Crossed my arms over my chest. “Yes. Shit. I don’t know. What were you doing with Charlotte?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

I threw my hands up and laughed coldly.

“Of course, you can’t,” I said. “You know, I actually believe that you don’t want to share me. But the same rules don’t apply to you, do they? You can have me all for yourself, but the second you see some hot cougar you’re all over it.”

His jaw flexed. “I told you, my relationship with her is strictly professional.”

I planted my heels and glared at him. “I don’t believe you.”

“Careful,” he warned. “You know what it does to me when you get all worked up.”

My skin flushed, and I felt that deep, familiar ache inside of me. I turned my back on him before I did something stupid like kiss him. “This is fun for you, isn’t it?”

I heard him approach behind me, and when his hands slid down my arms, my muscles warmed, and relaxed. His voice was quiet when he spoke.

“I told you I’m not with anyone else. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“How am I supposed to trust you when you don’t tell me anything?”

He glanced up at the overhang. A security camera rested there and was pointed directly at us.

“We can’t talk about this here,” he said.

I took a step back and picked up my duffle bag, holding it in front of me like a shield. If Alec was with me, either I was being taped or someone else—probably Bobby—was watching.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said.

I let him escort me to my car, but even then I didn’t feel as if our conversation was private. Dark emotions swirled inside me. I couldn’t be so close to him without my heart hurting, but he was wrong for me in so many ways. He couldn’t even be honest about what he was doing with another woman in the middle of the night.

In silence he loaded my car, and before I was in the front seat, he took my hand and brought it to his lips.

“There are things I want to tell you,” he said. “Some I will, someday. Some I may never be able to. I’m not asking for you to wait forever; I’m just asking for you to trust me right now. I haven’t been with another woman since I first saw you, and I won’t be until we’re over.”

My stomach twisted. He sounded so sincere.

“What if we’re already over?” I asked.

“We’re not. We’re just getting started.” He said it with so much confidence, I almost believed him.

He opened my car door, and I sat inside.

“I’m coming over as soon as I’m done here,” he told me. “We’re going to talk about what happens when you doubt me.”

He shut the door and walked away, leaving me annoyed, confused, and ultimately curious.

H
e worked quickly, I would give him that. By the time I got back to my apartment, there was a package on my doorstep. A green box tied with an elaborate copper bow. On the top was a small typed note that just said,
Anna, I’m sorry. See you soon.

“You’re damn right, you’re sorry,” I muttered, unlocking the dead bolt and pushing inside. I flipped on the lights and took the box to the kitchen, searching for the scissors to cut the ribbon. They weren’t in the usual junk drawer where I kept pens and notepads; Alec had probably gone looking for them and put them back in the wrong place. I found them where I kept the knives and I cut off the ribbon. If he thought a gift could fix what had happened, he had another think coming. But as I opened the box, I wavered a little.

Chocolate, really good chocolate—handmade truffles on some ridiculous white satin pillow. It was a cheap shot to say the least.

I popped one into my mouth—I deserved it after the day I’d had—and groaned out loud. Delicious. But that didn’t address the issues at hand. Alec had railroaded me back at Stein’s house. I’d walked in expecting a good-bye, and left with the opposite. I probably should have felt weak about my lack of resolve, but instead I felt relieved. Maybe Amy was right; I had been being stupid. Alec didn’t want to let me go, and that had to count for something.

Still, I was just prolonging my heartbreak. Each day that we got closer would make it harder to back away.

I told myself this as I lit a few candles, brushed my teeth, reapplied my lipstick, and put on a black satin thong.

The knock came at the door an hour later. It was almost seven, so I thought he might want to talk over dinner, but that didn’t appear to be the case. There was a predatory look about him, a sharp hunger in his eyes and a coiled tension in his muscles that had me taking a step back.

“Stand by the bed,” he ordered, stalking toward me.

“You can’t just . . .”

“Now.” He removed his jacket, folded it in half, and laid it over the back of the love seat.

Irritation stoked through me, but the rumble in his voice excited me.

“Fine.” I walked to the bed. He sat on the end, facing me, and leaned back on straight arms. The position made his shirt pull across his body, giving a mouthwatering view of his pecs.

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

I had changed into leggings and a peasant top, but hesitated before doing what he asked. I’d imagined doing this, but not at his command. Still, his tone had me pulling at the strings that closed the collar of my shirt.

“Slowly,” he said.

I told myself it was part of the show, but I turned away because of the sudden dose of nerves that had boiled over in my belly. With my back to him, I twisted my hair over one shoulder and pushed the soft cotton down my arm, letting the wide neck give a broader view of my upper back. I became aware of every sensation: the brush of the material, the tickle of my hair against my neck and chest, his stare, moving over me like a physical touch.

I glanced over my shoulder and found him unmoved, except for the obvious erection straining against his pants.

“Keep going,” he said.

The nerves in my belly turned to water. Anything that had happened earlier was forgotten. All that existed now was the rising need between us.

I slid my thumbs into the waistband of my pants, already feeling the breath rasp my throat. He was just feet away, but he could have been stroking my back with his fingertips, lowering his mouth to my neck. I closed my eyes, knowing he could see the rise and fall of my shoulders. There was a creak in the bed as he sat up.

I bent at the waist and leaned forward, slowly sliding the skintight fabric down my smooth legs. He made a small noise of appreciation at the view of my behind, but made no move to rise or come closer.

I stepped out of the pants, one leg at a time. I turned now and faced him, suddenly brave and reckless. He gripped the comforter, and his jaw twitched as I reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. I never once broke his gaze.

I stood before him in only my bra and underwear, a matching satin set by La Perla that I’d blown half a check on a few months back. I’d never actually worn it until tonight.

“Your bra first,” he said, strained.

I reached behind and unfastened it, then slid the straps down my shoulders. My breasts fell free, heavy, peaked, and ready for his hard caress. I shuddered as the cool air made contact with my flushed skin.

Heart hammering, I awaited my next command. He stared at me for several long beats, gaze rising, lowering. Hand moving over his pants to adjust his cock.

“Finish it,” he said.

Adrenaline raced through my veins. With trembling hands I lowered the sides of the thong, one at a time, over my hips, down my thighs, over my calves. I stepped free, completely naked.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he said, rubbing a hand absently over his chest. And right then, in that moment, I felt more beautiful than ever before.

“Come here,” he finally said and, as if I were walking through a dream, I complied. I reached for him, but he grasped my wrists and directed me to the bed.

I let him put me where he wanted me, which was on all fours, facing the headboard. He hadn’t taken off his clothes, didn’t seem to want to yet.

“Clasp your hands and rest your cheek on them.”

I did as he said, attempting to lie on my stomach, but he held my hips in place so that my knees were bent and my buttocks lifted. In this position, my damp folds were exposed, swollen and ready for his touch. Displaying myself in this manner made me a little self-conscious, but he seemed to like what he saw. I wanted to please him; I wanted to drive him crazy.

He laid his hand on my lower back, sending shivers straight to my loins. Up and down his fingertips stroked, lowering over the back of my thigh and then skimming back to where they started. He kneeled beside me, placing his other hand on my shoulders.

“When you came to the house tonight, you thought I’d been with another woman.”

My heart ached, one hard pang.

I didn’t move.

He continued to trail his fingers over my skin.

“You didn’t answer my texts today for the same reason.”

I still didn’t respond, but my muscles were beginning to quiver in anticipation.

His fingers slid between the globes of my ass, gently prodding, then skimming lower, over my center. My back arched involuntarily, giving him more access. One finger circled my clit, never actually touching it.

We’re going to talk about what happens when you doubt me.

I should have known he didn’t intend to talk. He intended to punish, with a sweet torture that would drive me insane.

His fingers rose to my back, then lowered down around to the bend of one knee. My muscles flexed everywhere he touched.

“Why would you think that, when you know what you do to me?” He asked calmly. It was rhetorical, so I didn’t answer. “Did you think I would touch her like this?”

I bit my lip, fighting not to break so easily.

“Did you think I would put my fingers inside of her?”

His index fingers traced my slit, and then pushed, painstakingly slowly, inside. My muscles contracted involuntarily, and I tried to push up on my forearms, but he held me down.

“Did you imagine me fucking her, Anna?” He added a finger, and began to slide in and out. In and out. “It’s okay. Answer me, baby.”

Eyes pinched closed, I nodded, cheek still pressed against my knuckles.

He removed his hand, making me gasp. My inner walls squeezed together, missing him. Needing him.

His hand slapped down on one buttock, not hard enough to hurt me, but enough to sting. My eyes shot open. The breath huffed from my lungs. Then, as if it had never happened, he returned to his gentle caress. Up and down. Up and down. Soothing the heated skin.

“You think I could be inside another woman when I had this waiting for me in my own bed?”

He spanked me again, cupped hand breezing off my flesh in an upward motion. The vibration of my body struck my center, making my pussy clench. He had caught me by surprise, but as he returned to his soft touches, I stayed taut and ready.

“Do you still believe I could?”

I wanted to tell him no so that he might finally take off his pants and finish me. I needed him to fill me, to rub that place inside of me that would break the tension and erase the images of him in another woman’s bed.

But I nodded yes.

He sighed. “I thought so.”

Easy strokes, grazing my now soaked folds. I wanted to weep, I was so tied up in knots.

“I don’t like it when you doubt me, Anna.”

Another slap, this one a bit harder but still not painful. He blew across the skin to cool it, holding my shoulders down. He had to feel me trembling now; the whole mattress was practically quaking.

He spanked me again and again, each time stroking upward. I’d never been touched like this; it had never sounded like something I would have liked. But as he continued, a fever took control of my body, and the pleasure turned to something else, something more carnal.

“This body is mine,” he said, drawing a feral groan from my lips as his hand moved inward, and he began to pat his flat palm against my very slick center. The wet rhythmic sound should have embarrassed me, but it just made me that much hotter.

He alternated pressured spanks against my bottom, with lighter pats between my legs. He spread my knees wide, and then rubbed my labia, and tapped my clit with his middle finger. Just when I became used to the assault he would switch course.

I could hardly hold myself up. I squirmed, muscles trembling.

“Do you still doubt me?”

I cried out as his fingers thrust into my vagina. Deeply they reached, until his knuckles were flush against my outer lips.

“Damn you,” I muttered. I was on the verge of spinning out of control.

He finger-fucked me hard, and then suddenly emptied me. Before I could object, he’d reached beneath my hips and dragged me to him, then bent down and began to tongue me. His palm rubbed against my clit, a strong, relentless friction. My hips rotated, giving him more room to turn his head. As he scraped his teeth lightly over one lip, then the other, I lost what little control I had left.

I came hard, gasping for breath. My legs shot straight back, pushing him away. My hands fisted the sheets as I buried my face in the pillow. My muscles spasmed in waves—unending, unyielding waves.

He flipped me onto my back, discarding his clothes like they were on fire.

“I crave the taste of you,” he said, burying his face in my pussy again. He licked frantically, spearing me with his tongue, spreading the surface wide and then swirling around my clit. I arched back, fisting his hair to pull him away.

“Too much,” I managed. “Too much.”

“Not enough,” he said, rearing back and then driving his cock into me in one claiming stroke.

I gripped his shoulders and hung on while he thrust fast and deep. My body shook with the impact, nipples aching as my breasts jostled. He lifted my knees, pulled them together against his chest to find a different angle. The pressure squeezed the bundle of nerves between my legs, dragging me up the ridge of a tidal wave, bucking, reaching desperately for something to cling to before he sent me careening over the edge into oblivion, crying his name.

He held still, lodged deep while I clenched around him, while I went blind and began to seize in pleasure. It went on, hot tendrils pulsing through my cunt, forcing me to swallow him deeper into my tender flesh. Then he pulled out, leaving just the head of his monstrous erection inside.

“My body belongs to you,” I heard him say through the ringing in my ears. “I am yours just as much as you are mine.”

There was no reprieve. As soon as I could open my eyes, my gaze became trapped in his—in the deep blue of his irises and his pupils, dilated and filled with emotion. Perspiration had dewed on his brow. He slipped out and back in, enticing me with his tip, bringing a new layer of sensitivity to that small, hungry mouth.

His muscles clenched, but before I could prepare myself, he drove in hard, all the way to the base. Slowly, he withdrew. A shallow stroke, a deep stroke. He varied, just as he had with the spanking. And as I felt myself rising again, he pulled out completely, and lowered down my body, kissing my breasts, my belly button. Forcing my thighs apart and then sucking my clit into his mouth while his fingers pushed me up and over the edge.

It was too much. Too good. I was lost on some plane beyond reality, where there was nothing but sensation. Thoughts ceased to exist. There was just him around me, against me, inside of me. The ridges of his abdominals, the hard tips of his shoulders, the slippery sweat on his back. His toes sliding up my instep, his knees spreading mine farther apart.

He rose, kissed me as his cock slid inside me again. His hand cupped my breast, massaged it with just enough pressure to urge little gasps from my throat. He took my earlobe between his teeth.

“What are you doing to me?” I panted.

He seated himself deep. “Showing you.”

Showing me what? What I’d be missing if I walked away? The very thought of it seemed impossible now.

It began again. He withdrew an inch, pushed back in. He stayed close that way, keeping the tempo slow and intimate.

“Do you doubt me?” he whispered between strokes.

“Alec.”

He lifted my legs, tossed one over his shoulder. He pushed in all the way, turned his hips and held, searing me with a pleasured pain that compressed my organs.

“Feel how deep I am.” He slid out, buried himself again.

My head thrashed against the pillow. “Yes.”

“Feel how much I need you.”

“Yes.”

“All for you, Anna.”

“Yes.”
Tears streamed down my face.

“This is real, baby.”

I was rising again, impossible as it seemed. It was starting in the center of my core, sending bolts down every nerve ending. My feet flexed. My fingers numbly reached for him.

“Alec,” I panted.

He released my legs, leaned over me, and held me tightly as he hammered home.