The Masseuse (7 page)

“Shit,” he hissed, and then he was capturing her hands, pulling them overhead and pressing them into the mattress. “You’re so tight, Jez...and wet...so damn wet.”

She moaned. “Faster.” She struggled against his hold. “I can take it.” She was being irrational. Her orgasm was building to a rushing crescendo, and she didn’t want him to slow the ride. She’d probably never get there at this pace.

He released her hands and she found him staring at her with an unreadable expression. His hand tightened on her hip the exact moment his lips crashed down on hers. She had all of a second to marvel at the change before he thrust forward, going so deep she couldn’t help but whimper.

Dear God!
She couldn’t describe it. Pleasure and pain coexisting in one ball of nerves. It was a deadly combination. He withdrew and slammed back into her, over and over, faster, and faster, and she locked her legs around him, enjoying it, him, them.

“So good.” His lips found her neck. “Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

She nodded. That was her goal and she was getting there. Yes, she was.

“You like how I fuck this pretty pussy?”

She nodded, and whimpered. “Yes.”

“This is going to happen again, and again.” He delivered a few strokes that practically pushed her up the bed. “I’m going to be in this pussy daily.”

She should have known he was good at dirty-talk. The man had a glib tongue, literally and figuratively. Jezebel loved it. She loved it so much she was creaming all around him, though it wasn’t even necessary. He was moving easily within her now, despite the snug fit. Now she understood why he’d made her come twice before revealing what he was working with...

“This is my pussy.” He stroked deep and hard. She whimpered. “Say it.”

Jezebel shook her head. It was hers, attached to her body, and—

He stopped moving. She blinked, blinked again, and then glared up at him.

“My pussy,” he repeated. “Say it.”

She barely resisted the urge to whine. Really? “What do I get in return?”

“A cock.” He licked her bottom lip, then sucked it into his mouth.

“
My
cock?” She wouldn’t settle for less.

He released a sound that was half-groan, half-laugh, and all pleasure. “Your cock.”

“Phallus,” she corrected. He blinked at her in confusion, but she stroked his back, before digging her fingers into his sides. “Fuck me, Ramsey. Fuck your pussy.”

In the next moment, he was doing just that. It didn’t take long for her to come. She groaned, gripped his ass, and allowed her body to soar. In the distance, she heard a grunt and a few curses, before he collapsed onto her, breathing hard. Normally, Jezebel hated being crushed under a man’s weight, but in this case, she drew her fingers over the hard ridges of his back and sighed.

Yes, it had been that good.

***

He awoke to the sound of a phone vibrating.

Opening his eyes, Ramsey surveyed the dimly lit, unfamiliar surroundings and allowed the night and early morning to come rushing back to him. He was in Jezebel’s bedroom, and next to him, naked, rumpled and dead to the world, was the lady herself.

He smiled, but quickly lost it when the persistent vibrating reminded him why he was awake just two hours after succumbing to sleep.

Taking a quick look at the number, he brought the phone to his ear as he made his way from the bed and over to one of the windows. “Yes?”

With an easy flick on his finger, he pulled the curtains back slightly, and peered outside. His car was still there, not that he’d expected to find it missing as Jezebel lived in a nice neighborhood. It had not been what he’d expected from a woman estimated to be worth many millions, but the neighborhood seemed “homey.” The streets were tree-lined, the house sizeable and lawns manicured.

“We still on for today?” His cousin’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yes.”

He noted there weren’t many cars parked on the street, making his and the dark blue sedan parked a few houses down, almost standout. Another red sedan was parked a few houses up. They probably had a block policy to park in garages, Ramsey decided with an amused sigh.

“Same place, same time?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to make the calls?”

Ramsey’s amusement faded. He’d met Vincent Seong when Vince had come to South Korea with his parents to celebrate Ramsey’s eighteenth birthday. Since then, the man had been blunt and straightforward, qualities Ramsey appreciated even more when he’d come to America for business school.

“No.” He allowed the curtain to fall back into place and went in search of a bathroom. He found one attached to the room and easily slipped in. “I sent emails and text messages yesterday. They’re not children in need of reminders.”

“You need me to do anything before the meeting?”

“No.”

Locating the bathroom mirror, Ramsey approached and took a good look at himself. He had red marks on his neck and his chest. He peered harder. A few of those were bite marks.

Stifling his chuckle, he told Vince he’d see him at the meeting and surveyed Jezebel’s handiwork. For someone so proper and put-to-together in public, Jezebel Carter was a wildcat in the bedroom. Brushing a hand across his sensitive lips, he smirked.

He’d been serious last night. This would happen again, and again, until he got her out of his system, which he anticipated would take months, at the very least. He’d never had a relationship last more than six months. That was the amount of time it took for him to get bored, and most times, it was less.

Remembering last night and how Jezebel felt wrapped around him, her slick, tight sex pulling at him, her thighs clasping him to her, her legs wrapped around his buttocks, urging him on…

He eyed his rising cock with a little smile. Six months then, he decided. He already sensed Jezebel was different. She intrigued him beyond her face and body, and that made her different.

Chapter 5

“Why are you walking like that?”

Jezebel turned from where she was whipping up eggs and bacon to glare at Delilah seated on one of the bar chairs in her kitchen, watching her curiously.

“Like what?” Playing dumb sometimes worked. She hoped this was one of those times.

“Like you’ve been getting it from all angles,” her sister teased.

Jezebel instead chose to focus on the breakfast. Saturday brunch was their thing. Even before Delilah had been diagnosed with cancer, they’d done it as often as possible. They’d both had demanding schedules, so Saturday brunch usually happened once a month, if so often, but now, Jezebel made the time, even where it seemed like there was none, for her sister. Life was short. Her thin, frail looking sister reminded her of that daily.

“I know it’s not Lance—you already told me that was an epic failure.” She sighed and dragged a hand over her face. “I at least thought he was bi.”

Jezebel glared at her over her shoulder. “You set me up with a bisexual guy?”

Delilah blew out a dismissive breath. “I just wanted you to get laid...which it seems like you managed all on your own.” She laughed. “Do I know him?”

Turning off the six-burner, Jezebel reached overhead for the plates and scooped eggs and bacon onto them.

“I’m not going to let this go, you know. I’m living vicariously through you...remember? No sex for cancer girl.”

“Stop calling yourself that.” Jezebel glared at her.

“It’s true.” Delilah smirked.

“How many slices of toast?”

“I can toast my own bread you know,” Delilah murmured, but at Jezebel’s glare, rolled her eyes and murmured, “One—lightly toasted please.”

When they were sitting around her dining room table, Delilah delved right back into the topic. “Do I know him?”

Jezebel groaned. Her sister was like a dog with a juicy bone, relentless. But she forced Jezebel to go back to last night, remember in vivid detail what Ramsey Stone had done to her body. This morning, she’d awoken sluggish, stiff and sore, her lower being feeling like she’d run a marathon without any training. Last night had been wild. They’d had sex not once or even twice, but three times. Ramsey was unlike any other lover she’d experienced. Not only was he incredibly well-endowed, the man’s stamina was out of this world.

And that was why she was walking like she had a bowling ball between her legs, because that was how it felt. Sleeping with him was probably not the best idea, but they were adults, capable of making decisions solely for short-term pleasure. Taking him three times in the span of hours, however, was absolutely stupid. After her first orgasm from having him inside of her, he’d allowed her to rest a few hours, then she’d wakened aroused, his fingers playing with her clit. In the span of minutes, he’d made his way back into her body. The third time was a haze...she just remembered feeling so good...having him fuck her slowly, leisurely...He’d spoken low in her ear, alternating between English and another seductive language...

“Do I?”

Jezebel was pulled from her memories. Her sister was staring at her curiously. “What?”

“Do I know him?” Delilah suddenly blinked, then her eyes narrowed. “It’s not Kirk, right? Please tell me that you didn’t go back to Kirkland
Douche-bag
Ross.”

Jezebel frowned. “No.” Her sister couldn’t possibly believe she’d give that cheating whore another chance. She’d been with Kirk for three years and he’d probably cheated on her for three of those years.

Delilah nodded. “Good.” She sipped her tea. “Well, where’d you meet him? Is he hot? How good was it? Is he big—looks like it.” Her sister smirked. “Are you going to do it again?”

With a slight shake of her head, Jezebel quipped, “My business, not yours.”

“I told you all the deets of my relationships.”

“I never asked for them.”

“That’s just unfair.” She sighed dramatically. “Here I am, stricken with cancer and funless, and you’re having a blast and withholding information from your sick—”

“Guilt-tripping me doesn’t work half as well as it did when you were first diagnosed.”

“I can still try.”

At Delilah’s grin, Jezebel chuckled. Deciding to give her sister a slight bone, she murmured, “His name is Ramsey.”

She should have known better.

“The pharaoh from
The Osiris
? You’re banging your masseuse?” Even without Ramsey’s unique, pharaoh-reminiscent name, Delilah had a memory that put most to shame. She squealed in excitement. “Jez, that’s so unlike you. I love it! Details! Details!”

“That’s all I’m saying.”

“Okay, okay, one more question and I’ll leave it alone.”

“What?”

“Are you going to do it again or was this a one-off?”

Jezebel thought about it. This morning, she’d awoken to find Ramsey gone. On his pillow had been a sticky note,
Didn’t want to wake you, beautiful. I’ll see you later
. In her mind, that was as good as a declaration that what had happened had been a one-time thing. His dirty words last night had been just that: dirty words. He didn’t intend on anything long term, even if was just sex—and she was perfectly fine with that.

“One-off. Now, stop being nosey and eat your breakfast.”

“Who would have thought that you, Ms. Ivy-League-Educated-CEO, would have ever had a one-night stand with your masseuse?” Delilah’s eyes widened in exaggeration and then she brought both hands to her heart. “Mother would be so proud.”

Jezebel tried to be serious, but in minutes, they were both chuckling. It was true. If she knew, Ilyana would be very proud.
Carpe diem
was the woman’s motto. This was one of those things her mother would understand, and even approve of.

***

Jezebel dropped her sister off at her mother’s house, where Delilah was currently staying, and was heading back to her car, when the text message came in.

How do you feel?

Staring at the unknown number, she responded,
Fine. Who is this?

Ramsey. Are you sure you feel...fine?

She remembered him telling her that he’d gotten her number from the spa logs and she knew exactly what he was referring to with “fine.” Of course she wasn’t fine. She constantly felt like he was still pushed up inside of her, despite checking to make sure he was no longer there.

Just peachy.

No tension?

Should I have tension?

Yes.

Why?

He didn’t respond and she hopped into her car, and started the ignition. A beep made her look down at her phone.

What are you doing right now?

I’m busy.
She wasn’t. She had to do some grocery shopping and would probably go through a few proposals that she had to look over by Wednesday, but otherwise, she was free as a bird.

Doing what?

Busy things.

Come to the spa for 4 p.m.

Can’t.

I’ll make it worth your while.

She frowned. If he thought she was having sex with him the day after he put her poor kitty in a coma, he had another thing coming.

No you won’t.

No?

I won’t be your booty-call.

But you’ll be my one-night stand?

Yes.

Nothing wrong with that in her book. They were adults. If she wanted to be a one-night stand or a booty call, she could. Hell, if she wanted to whore, she could do that too, but she didn’t have the stamina for it.

She smirked.

Come to the spa. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.

No.

You enjoy being difficult, Jezebel.

She rolled her eyes.

Come to the spa...please.

Why?

I’m sure you could use a massage after last night.

Honestly, she could. A hot shower had relieved some of the ache but not all, and her back, which had been overextended last night, had a dull ache.

Just a massage?