Friends Wanting Benefits (4 page)

Ethan returned from the bathroom and slipped under the sheets. "I'm exhausted."

"Will it bother you if I read for a while?"

"No."

"Good, because you'll need your energy for tomorrow." She flashed him a sexy smile.

"What's happening tomorrow?"

"Oh…" she shrugged, "… I've got a few ideas."

"I never imagined cruising would be this much fun."

"Normally a cruise isn't this much fun, but it's cruising with me that's the difference."

"This is my first cruise, but I'll take your word for it."

They shared a laugh before he rolled over and let out a sigh seemingly born of tired satisfaction.

As he drifted off to sleep, she picked up the Jaclyn West novel and began reading. What started off a little slow quickly caught her interest when the beautiful princess was rescued by the gruff and manly knight. While still wearing his breastplate, pauldron, and plackart, the hero delivered the virgin princess her first ever climax.

Two chapters later the pair reconnected in a less erotic coupling that left Victoria frowning unsatisfied and eyeing her travel companion with keen interest. After tossing the book on the night table, she pulled off her night shirt, slipped down in the bed and spooned with her man. As her wandering hand made its way down his muscular chest to his flat abdomen then finally to something hard, really hard, he stirred awake and turned to her wearing a groggy smile. "What's going on?"

"I was thinking about you."

"Well, I'm… I'm right here."

They kissed and it was on.

The next day George entered the large open area Centrum which was circled by eight glass elevators soaring nine stories high. Adorned with tons of brass fixtures and railings, purple lights, and rich burgundy fabrics, the area was somewhere between tastefully decorated and flamboyantly gaudy. He spotted the huge line of women holding copies of their books to be signed. There were three separate stations setup— one for each of the famous authors involved in the event.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. There must have been at least eighty of them waiting in his wife's line. "Excuse me. Sorry." He made his way slowly through the crowd then stood beside the table.

Jillian glanced up from the book she was signing and smiled. "Do you spell your name with a 'K' or a 'C'?"

"Oh, it's a 'K'." The middle-aged woman beamed with excitement and swayed from side to side. "I just love your books."

"Thank you so much. I never get tired of hearing that."

"I have everyone in my book club reading them."

Grinning, Jillian handed her the novel. "I appreciate that and I hope you enjoy the new book."

"Thank you."

The woman headed away, and another happy reader took her place in front of the table handing over her book.

"Who should I make this out to?" Jillian asked.

"Laura," said the woman.

George cleared his throat and Jillian looked up to him. "Hey, George."

He made a face. "I've been waiting in the cabin for you."

"Why?"

Leaning down, he whispered. "We've got that couples massage in ten minutes."

Her eyes widened and she gave him a sorrowful look. "Oh, that's right. Sorry, we got started late and can you believe this line?"

"No," he grumbled.

"I just can't leave now."

"Well, it's too late to cancel. They'll charge us."

She cringed. "Sorry."

"Yeah, well I was looking forward to the massage. My neck hurts and—"

"Just go without me."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, we'll do another one together later in the week."

"Ok." He rolled his eyes. "You sure?"

"Yes, have fun." She smiled then returned her attention to the woman. "I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Laura… And I really loved your book
Knight Rider
."

Frowning, George shook his head as he headed off toward the bank of elevators.

In the waiting area of the Vitality Spa, George sipped champagne as he filled out his pre-massage form. Minutes later, two female masseuses entered the room and headed over to him. The taller woman looked to be in her late twenties and was thin, pretty, and wore a bright smile. The other masseuse was shorter, older and looked as though her previous career might have been with the Russian Olympic weight lifting team.

"Mr. Grayson?" The pretty woman said.

"Yes." Rising to his feet, he tore his eyes from the scary woman.

"I am Demetra and this is Bepa."

"Hello."

"You are here for couples massage?"

"Yes, but my wife could not make it so would it be possible for only me to get a massage today?"

"Certainly." Putting her hand to her chest, the lovely Demetra said, "I specialize in Swedish Massage while Bepa is our deep tissue specialist. With couples, I normally work on the woman while Bepa is with the man."

"Oh, really, um, I—"

"So I will leave you with Bepa."

"No, wait. I actually prefer the Swedish, you know, massage." He looked up to her hopefully.

"Yes sir."

"I mean if that's okay with you both?" His sympathetic gaze went between the two women then settled on Demetra.

Bepa mumbled something in Russian and waved her hand at him dismissively.

Demetra turned to Bepa. "Is okay?"

"Ya." Bepa turned on her heels and headed away.

"Please follow me." Demetra headed toward the client rooms. "Your wife is not feeling well?"

He walked behind her. "Oh, no. She's down in the Centrum signing books."

Stopping in her tracks, she turned to him wearing a bright smile. "Is your wife one of the authors onboard?"

"Yes, Jillian… But she writes under the name Jaclyn West."

"You are married to Jaclyn West?" Her jaw dropped open, and her smile was somehow even brighter.

"Yep, that's her," he grumbled.

"Oh, I love her books. I was hoping to get a book signed."

"I'll drop one off for you."

"Really?"

"Sure. Demetra is it?"

"Yes."

"How do you spell that?"

"D.E.M.E.T.R.A."

"Uh, just like it sounds." He smiled. "I'll leave it at the front desk for you."

"Thank you so much."

"No problem."

"Right through here." She opened the door to the massage room where two tables were setup side-by-side about two feet apart covered with large white towels. The gentle sounds of spa music filled the air, and the room was decorated in soft colors. Floor to ceiling windows covered one entire wall with large drapes covering all but one of the window sections. In one corner, there was a glass enclosed circular shower.

"If you would like to shower first I can—"

"No, I just showered in my room."

"Good."

He looked out the uncovered window to the vast ocean and the wake of water being caused by the ships powerful engines.

"Wow, so she's your wife."

"Yep," he replied in a tired voice.

"Please tell her I really loved
Saving Chance
."

"I will. I will." He returned his attention to the woman.

She looked toward the ceiling and sighed. "Your wife, she really knows now to write a, um… how you say… Love scene."

He frowned. "Oh, yeah, she knows how to
write
them all right."

"Yes, she does."

He looked her in the eye. "So, have the books helped you, and your boyfriend, you know, in the bedroom? Lots of women come up to my wife and thank her."

She looked away shyly. "No boyfriend."

"Husband?"

"No, not married."

"Wait a minute… A beautiful woman like you." Giving her a skeptical look, he tilted his head. "How is it possible that you're not married?"

She shrugged wearing an embarrassed smile. "I don't know." After an awkward couple seconds, she asked, "Have you had a massage before?"

"Yes."

"Good, yes, so you know… I will step out. Take off all your clothes except for your underwear and get under the towel face down and I will return."

"Okay."

Demetra slipped from the room and closed the door. George unbuttoned his shirt looking out the window at the endless blue water of the Caribbean Sea. Preoccupied, he followed a single foamy wave as it faded away in the distance.

After pulling off his pants, he folded them neatly along with his shirt and placed them on the shelf. Then he took off his socks and added both to the pile. Wearing only his underwear, he looked down to the bulge growing below and rubbed his chin. A grin spread over his face, and he quickly pushed his boxers off his hips and down his legs, then slipped them in the pile hiding them.

Bare-ass naked, he moved to the massage table, lifted up the large towel and lay down with his head in the towel-lined cradle before reaching back to carefully cover up his body. Grimacing in pain, he lifted up his midsection and repositioned his semi-excited manhood before lying back down on the table.

After a light knock on the door, he heard it open. "Okay Mr. George, are you comfortable?"

"Yes," he replied without lifting his head. A grin spread over his face, and he adjusted his position so he could breathe easier through the hole in the face cradle.

She adjusted the towel to cover his lower body more fully then placed a second towel over his upper body. Next he heard the sink running and the sounds of her washing her hands. Moments later she folded down the towel off his back and squeezed hot oil all over his skin. He groaned in pleasure as she worked it into his muscles.

"You tell me if the pressure is too much."

"It's fine," he replied in a soft relaxed voice.

For the next fifteen minutes, he lay there melting into the table as she worked the oil into his back, arms, and neck. Moving down to his legs, she folded up the towel just below his rear end and began by working his calves. He groaned quietly in pleasure as she slowly made her way up to his thighs. With her, every touch, his erection grew just a little more, and the pain of it pressing into the table and being confined between his tightly closed legs became almost unbearable but so, so worth it.

"Okay, Mr. George, please turn over now."

He took a deep breath, cringed then as she held the towel up blocking her view of him, he flipped over. She placed the towel back down over him, and his manhood stood at attention proudly tenting the towel. Her eyes went to it.

He craned his neck to look at it. "Sorry, I, uh—"

"Do not worry Mr. George." She looked away. "This happens sometimes." She repositioned a second towel over his upper body before rolling up a small towel and placing it carefully over his eyes. "Just relax."

"All right."

Uncovering his shoulders, she squirted some oil over his upper chest then started to work it in.

He felt his erection throbbing even stronger now. "Again, sorry about that."

"No worries, Mr. George."

"This feels like something my wife would write about. You know, gorgeous masseuse massages lonely man whose wife pays absolutely no attention to him."

She giggled softly.

"She spends all her time coming up with exciting stories about
other
people."

"Oh…" She rubbed his shoulders more firmly as she moved forward pressing her midsection slightly against his head.

She worked the oil into each of his arms, and his erection held steadfast through all of it. Then she moved to the other end of the table and folded the towel back over his left leg. He felt for the first time cool air spread over his penis.

She gasped. "Oh, Mr. George, I said to take off your clothes except for your underwear."

As he lifted his head up, the towel fell from his eyes. "I thought you said
including
my underwear."

"No." She looked away from him.

"Sorry, I uh—"

"Is okay. I just cover it." After readjusting the towel, she moved to the side of the table and went to work on his leg. He placed the towel back over his eyes, but in such a way that we he could still see her. He watched as she worked his muscles seemingly preoccupied and glancing down occasionally to his huge bulge.