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Authors: Elena M. Reyes

Teasing Hands

BOOK: Teasing Hands
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Teasing Hands

 

The hands kneading my flesh into submission are strong, yet gentle. Rough, yet tender. His talented fingers dig deep into my naked flesh, applying the perfect amount of pressure, bending me to his will.

 

His will that now entices and burns itself into my every pore, ruining me for any other’s touch—but his. Once a stubborn and independent woman, I find myself wanting to submit; to give him all that I am and power over everything I can be with his guidance.

 

Camden Daniels has a voice full of sin built to destroy my mental walls. The dulcet sonnet of his tone controls my resolve with but a single utterance from his lips:

 

“Undress for me.”

Copyright © 2014 by Elena M. Reyes

 

Malfunction Erotica

(The House of Malfunction)

 

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

Edited By: Marti Lynch, K.I. Lynn, N. Isabelle Blanco

 

Cover Art By: N. Isabelle Blanco

 

Photo credit: 123RF/ @ Daniel Krol

Acknowledgements

 

This book is dedicated to all my fans and friends. To those that make me laugh when I get frustrated. To those that love my characters as much as I do. To those that send me messages of encouragement, and share my work with others, simply because they are passionate about my books.

To all those people I say thank you.

 

Prologue

 

 

 

 

“Undress for me.”

 That was all he said. No preamble or false pretense concerning what we were—I was—here for. It was all for pleasure. A fuck. He would never offer me more than that.

The s
ad part was that I now craved that illusive even more: a relationship with all the benefits that came with being owned by Camden. Too bad for me, it would never come to be, and that was a reality I’d come to accept. Decisions had been made.

With a small nod, I
acknowledged his command, then disrobed before him. A shot of melancholy raced through me while the standard-issue spa robe fell to my feet. Today would more than likely be the last time I entered this room and served him my body. No longer would his hands squeeze and mold my pliant flesh.

My heart
stuttered at that thought. Was he going to let me leave this room as just another client, the session having come to an end? Or would he stop me?

Camden’s feet
came into view, bare and perfect. Just like the rest of him. My gaze traveled upward to the soft white linen pants he wore whenever I was in his space. They were threadbare, almost nonexistent, and indecent. The sweetest of tortures for me. His cock was thick and hard, pressing at the thin fabric and doing nothing to hide his size or the drops of liquid visibly seeping through the engorged head of his shaft. It twitched under the heat of my gaze, and I licked my lips. How could he be so beautiful? Be everything I never knew I wanted, but now desperately needed?

He isn’t yours.
 Those three words brought things back into perspective. I would be strong. Had to be …

“Look at me.” His voice
; fuck him and the things they did to me. “Please,
gatita
.”

My eyes
snapped up and met his, which looked tortured and desperate. “I need you here with me, not miles away. You know the rules.”

Rules.
Funny.

The snort that
escaped me wasn’t cute. It wasn’t meant to be. “Which rules are you referring to? The ones that protect you from loving me?”

“Amanda, please let’s not ruin our time—”

 I ignored his bullshit and continued to push. “Or are you referring to the ones that make me feel like nothing but a dirty little secret? Like I’m your whore?”

Camden’s nostrils
flared and his fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t you fucking ever—”

“Or what?”
I laughed bitterly. There was no going back for us.

“Fuck
, little girl.” He growled and reached out to grab my arm, but I was quicker and pulled back.

I moved
until my back hit the wall; the space between us gave me just enough breathing room to get my point across. “Don’t,” I begged. My voice was hoarse from having to keep my emotions under control. “Don’t feed me your lies or excuses. It is what it is. I’m the client and you, my masseuse. Just do what you’re being paid to do.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Camden
stalked forward, lithe, like a jungle cat trapping his prey. “Is this because of what happened at Rage?”

I
didn’t answer and looked away. Seeing him there, with
her
of all people, had crushed me.

“You know nothing happened,
gatita
. I would’ve told you if it had.” He caged me in then, hands on the wall to either side of my head. There was no escaping his perfection when he was this close. “You can’t go all jealous on me and throw a tantrum when I don’t belong to you.”

His
words stung, yet they were just what I’d come to expect from him. What I needed to hear to cut the emotional ties that held me his captive. “That goes both ways, you know?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The rumble in his chest
made my knees feel weak.

“Exactly what it states.
I am not yours to hold onto anymore.”

Camden
banged his fist once against the wall before pulling away. He was too possessive of what he didn’t want to own.

“Amanda…I can’t.”

“Neither can I,” I added in a remorseful whisper, then pulled myself off the wall.

My feet
carried me over to the bed in the center of the room, but before I laid down on the cold surface, I walked over to my purse and pulled out a pair of panties. It wasn’t much in the way of coverage, but my point had been made clear.
Camden’s normally clear, blue eyes were stormy, flickering from mine to my legs, and the physical representation of the invisible wall I was erecting between us. He stayed silent as he stared at me.
It was better this way. Hurt less.

Lying down, I
grabbed the plain white sheet he kept for show on the small table next to the bed and pulled it over my lower half. The weight of his stare made my movements jerky. Thick tension surrounded me. His eyes burned me.

“There’s somewhere I need to be within the next hour
.” My low tone sounded like a loud wail inside the small sanctuary, a room where opulence and soothing music played in the background. This space was meant to be warm, relaxing, and what others used to forget their worldly troubles. To let go.

For me
, though, it was a different kind of release that came with each session. I now yearned for what his fingers could make me do. The way he tore pleasure from my body without asking permission. None was ever needed. Camden conquered and dominated my body.

Only he
could give me what I craved, both mentally and physically. The way those masterful hands rubbed and extricated my troubles, attracting my naturally submissive sensuality to come forward and play, was all Camden.

His hand
reached out and grabbed the sheet covering me. He fisted the thin material in his hands but didn’t touch me, and I felt the scorching waves of heat which rolled off his body.

“Where do you have to be, Amanda?” His question
came out as a low rumble, animalistic and hypnotic. “Its off-season, and you don’t have practice.”

I
shrugged and closed my eyes. “None of your business.”

“The fuck it isn’t
,” he all but snarled and pulled the sheet from my body. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To finally move on.”
They were the wrong choice of words; I knew they would be the moment they passed my lips.

“Never.”

One word
was all he gave me before his hands flipped me over and his mouth took possession of mine. Camden’s kiss told me everything he couldn’t.

That
I was his.

He
wasn’t letting me go.

It also
said he knew I was aware of his ownership over my person. The same way he acknowledged my submission to his male dominance. There was no 
other 
person for either of us, yet he wouldn’t give in to me.

Sadly, between his bullshit excuses and
client non-fraternization rules, all I would ever be was Amanda Brooks to him. The daughter of a city council member, a women’s college basketball player, and a client.

It
killed me to accept what had been plain to see, when all I wanted was to forever be his sweet little
gatita

 

 

1

 

 

 

You got this
, Amanda … it’s just you and the net. Right now you’re outside your house practicing. No pressure. You got this.

The crowd
was on its feet as the final minutes in the game wound down. We were dominating, destroying our opponent’s defense, and exposing their weakness to every fan who watched from the stands.

It felt good.
Too good.
The inner bitch in me wanted to gloat in front of their angry faces while they tried to block me inside the paint. Fuck that. The women of Florida State simply had no answer for the united power house of University of Miami. Their team was more focused on the greatness of one player than the unstoppable force of a whole unit working together.

T
he cacophonous stomping of feet reverberated throughout the stands and shook the gymnasium. The UM fans were loud; the buzzer hadn’t even gone off and already they were celebrating the newest addition to the school’s trophy case.

The united chant of: “
Let’s go, Canes!”
filled the gymnasium. It pulsed through me—pumped me up with pure adrenaline while I got ready for the last play of the night.

“Amand
a!” Coached yelled out, and I looked over. He made the signal for a time-out, but I shook my head. That would only give them time to counterattack if I missed. This way, if push came to shove, we would head into overtime.

All we needed was one more basket
, and the trophy was ours.

“End this shit
,” Jennifer, our center, shouted over the roar of the crowd. She passed by me, leaving her post near the rim to push away the two players guarding me. It worked, and the opening I needed was created.

Right outside the three-point line.

The ball landed in my hands with just under seventeen seconds left on the clock. The pass was rapid, almost too fast for the other team to follow. Courtney, my best friend and forward, smirked then did her signature two-finger hand wave.

“You got this,”
she shouted then blocked the other team’s point guard from getting in my way. The sound of the seconds ticking away was loud while that final buzzer wound close.

My brows scrunched in concentration
; the entire school’s basketball season rested on my shoulders. Right. No pressure.

After
I took one more glance at the clock, I made my move. The ball hit the floor and the room grew quiet. My hand manipulated the ball. It bounced rapidly once, twice—my arms rose up, my wrist tilted back, and before I could blink, all I heard was the
swoosh
of the net
.

Just like that
, we were champions. It was a high the likes of which I’ve never felt before. The screams and uproar that came from the stands were overwhelming. Deafening. The band began to play and my legs were swept out from under me when I was placed upon my teammates’ shoulders.

I didn’t spare the other team a second glance.
 

Gatorade coolers were being
picked up and tipped over the coaching staff’s shoulders. Everyone rushed onto the gym’s floor. We were soaked and not giving a shit.

“We
’re champions, baby!” Courtney yelled and wrapped her slender arms around my shoulders the moment I was put down.

We squealed and laughed. Best feeling in the world
. Nothing would ever compare.

“You know they are waiting?” I shuddered and turned to look over at the stands. They were waiting. Proud mothers were the worst in moments like these
. At least ours were.

She looked at the waving socialites and cringed. “We
’ll be showcased like prized stallions.”

“We could just head back and escape with one of the girls. Or Coach
,” I deadpanned, but it was too late as eye contact was established.
Fuck
.

“There is no escaping.” Court grasped my hand tightly and looked at me with scared eyes. Those two—the women
who’d birthed us—were anything but simple. They loved glamour and high-end fashion, while we were simple girls. How we could be total opposites no one understood, but it was true, and made for some very interesting battles in our homes.

Court and I smiled
then waved while walking backward toward the locker room entrance. We might have to face them at some point, but it wouldn’t be right that second. Hell, no. My buzz would not be diminished by the fuckery Mom always had up her sleeve.

“I say we head back and get dirty.”

My brow rose high in question while I continued to smile at our moms across the distance.

“My interest has been p
iqued.”

“Do you hear those screams of glee?”

I nodded, and her words began to make sense. Get dirty celebrating, then come and share the wealth with them. Perfect.

 

 

“Holy shit!” Courtney yelled the minute we stepped into the
locker room. The chaos we had walked in on was scary in the best of ways. The semi-naked bodies of my teammates were spread about every inch of the room. Everyone was there, except for Coach Miller—and any other member of the staff with a penis, of course.

They were dancing, jumping around, and grinding against each other
while they celebrated what we’d worked so hard for. Months of practices and drills that had left us in physical pain the next day. Not to mention quite the collection of bruises and scrapes from intense camps and learning new plays.

It
had all culminated to this: The University of Miami’s Women’s Basketball Team were state champions. Fuck, it felt good to say that.

The entire room was filled to capacity. A weird mixture of Gatorade and champagne dripped off every surface in the room.
Who managed to get this in here? It would be our asses if we were caught.

I c
ould only begin to imagine the faces of the janitorial staff later tonight. We’d be cursed to hell, that’s for sure. Good thing the couple who did most of the cleaning after our home games were fans.

A bottle of Moet was passed to me, already half gone
while I stood in the threshold, taking it all in. Helping myself to a big pull of the bubbly, I walked through the doorway and into the craziness before me.

Jennifer was down to her sports bra and shorts
, shaking her ass off to the latest club hit and laughing at something someone said. “Get your asses in here,” she called out over the music and sauntered our way. “We earned this shit!”

“Damn right we did.” I laughed and passed the bottle over to Court.

“About time, girls.” Stephanie, another teammate, pulled me into a hug while Courtney drank the remaining contents of the bottle.

“Fuck, I needed that.”
Court gave us all a lazy smile. “Especially if the firing squad’s still outside.”

“You too, huh?” Stephanie
had grown up with us and knew the drill. While her mother wasn’t as bad as ours were—it was still an equal-opportunity pony show.

“It’s to be expected. We figured we’d let the crowd outside die down before we go see them.”
I shrugged and threw my hands up in time to catch an unopened bottle being tossed my way. “By the way, who snuck in the booze?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you
,” Steph laughed and took a sip of her own drink. “Just enjoy, and know all has been taken care of.” Well that was vague.

“Can I just say that I don’t envy you girls one bit?” Jen
interjected before I could continue to badger Steph. Jennifer’s mother was different. In a good way. She was as proud as our parents, but less in your face about it. The woman was reserved and quiet. Blending in to the background and praising in private.

“Bite me
, Jen,” was my eloquent response.

“Maybe tomorrow?” Jen sassed before walking back over toward Courtney, leaving me in a fit of giggles.

“You know who I heard was back in town?” Stephanie’s voice had gone soft. Low.

“No. Who?” I shook the bottle in my hand and pointed it at one of the
seniors on the team. If my aim was dead on, she’d be hit in the boob with the cork.

“You seriously don’t know? Well
, shit.” There was a guarded edge to her expression that sobered me up.

The bottle opened
, and the cork flew straight for my victim. I heard her curse at me. Even felt the plastic bottle of water hit me in the arms. Nothing registered; my eyes were focused on a suddenly worried Steph.

My mouth opened
, and the question sat on the tip of my tongue. Stephanie looked away from me. “Who, Steph—”

“We are champions!” Somebody screamed from the other side of the room
, and everyone erupted in cheer. More bottles were popped and shaken—spraying us all in the sweet bubbly.

“Where are we heading to tonight?” Courtney
yelled out from atop the bench she stood on, oblivious to my conversation with Steph. She was tipsy, her red hair damp and sticking to the side of her face. I could tell the alcohol was hitting her hard by her impromptu strip tease on one of the benches in the locker room. She’d thrown her hands up to sing along with Jennifer while they dropped it low.

“No clue
,” Stephanie answered, still not meeting my eyes. She ignored the sudden elephant in the room.

“What about Rage?”
Jennifer asked everyone and I watched the smiles take over my teammates’ faces. Guess that answered that. 

Steph bumped me with her shoulder. “Cute guys and liquor…what the hell else could we need
?” I got it. She was trying to steer me away from our previous conversation. Luck wasn’t on her side.

“How about some answers? Why are you being all weird over bumping into someone? What’s going on
, Steph?” I demanded, taking a hold of her hand.

“I’ll tell you tonight, I swear. Let’s not ruin our day with shit that doesn’t matter.” Her eyes plead
ed with mine to understand, and accept.

Nodding, I gave her hand a squeeze and let go. “Fine
, but tonight, you
will
tell me.”

“Agreed.”

BOOK: Teasing Hands
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