Chapter 8
The scent of eucalyptus and jasmine hung thick in the air of the resort’s world-famous spa, the aroma rich and intoxicating. The soft lighting came from dimmed sconces and flickering candles, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. The water feature wasn’t just a murmur—it was a wall of falling water, the sound soothing, the temperature of the room just cool enough to make the heated massage tables feel like a blessing. The towels were thick and soft, the robes plush, the sheets on the massage table crisp and warm beneath my fingers. The oil was warmed, the scent of it mixing with the eucalyptus, the texture slick and luxurious between my palms.
Maddie found me in the staff lounge, her silver necklace glinting against her golden skin. “You’re assisting with a VIP relaxation package,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Patricia and George Vale. They requested you specifically.”
My pulse jumped. The Vale name carried weight at Eclipse Mountain—old money, old power. And they’d asked for me.
I followed Maddie through the hushed corridors, the soft lighting and plush robes creating an atmosphere of quiet luxury. The treatment room was a haven of warmth and tranquility, the air thick with the scent of oils and the soft murmur of the water feature. Patricia and George were already there—she lounged on a chaise, her silver necklace with a diamond-encrusted charm resting between her ample breasts, while he lay face-down on the massage table, a towel draped over his hips.
Patricia’s voice was soft but commanding, the kind of tone that made you want to obey before you even realized you were being given an order. Her scent was intoxicating—jasmine and something darker, something expensive. Her hands were manicured, her fingers long and elegant, a single jeweled ring on her right hand catching the light as she gestured for me to begin. “Don’t be shy, darling,” she murmured, her smile sharp. “George likes a firm touch.”
I approached the table, my hands already warm with the oil I’d rubbed between my palms. George was broad, solid, the kind of man who carried his wealth in his posture as much as his bank account. His skin was warm beneath my touch, the oil slick between my hands and his muscles.
I began with his shoulders, my fingers kneading the tension from his muscles, the oil warm and luxurious. He was solid beneath my touch, his body responding to my hands, his breath coming in slow, even gasps.
“Harder,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “I like it rough.”
I obeyed, my fingers digging into his muscles, my body leaning into the work. The oil was warm, the scent of eucalyptus thick in the air. I could feel his body relaxing beneath my touch, his breath coming in slow, even gasps. My interiority twisted with each stroke—nervous, but curious, my body already responding to the intimacy of the touch.
He turned over, the towel still draped over his hips. “Lower,” he said, his voice a command. “My back’s been killing me.”
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the towel. I couldn’t massage his lower back without moving the fabric. And if I moved it...
George didn’t wait for me to decide. He simply lifted his hips, the towel falling away, his cock already half-hard, thick and heavy against his stomach. His hand shot out, gripping my wrist, his fingers rough against my skin. “Don’t stop,” he murmured, his voice rough with approval.
I swallowed hard, my body trembling. The spa was quiet, the only sound the soft murmur of the water feature, the distant hum of the lodge. Patricia watched, her eyes dark with hunger, her fingers tracing the diamond charm at her throat.
I obeyed. My hands worked lower, my fingers digging into the muscles of his lower back, the oil slick between my hands and his skin. His cock rose further, thick and heavy, pressing against my wrist as I worked. The heat of his body was a stark contrast to the cool oil, the sensation sending a fresh wave of heat through me. I was nervous, but I couldn’t deny the thrill of it—the way his body responded to my touch, the way his cock hardened beneath my hands.
“You’re good at this,” George murmured, his voice a low growl. “But I think we can do better.”
Patricia didn’t hesitate. She stood, her robe falling open, revealing her body—full breasts, a narrow waist, hips that swayed with every movement. Her silver necklace glinted in the dim light as she approached. “Strip,” she said, her voice smooth but leaving no room for argument. “Leave the necklace.”
I obeyed, my hands trembling as I shed my uniform, my puffer jacket, my pink shorts. The air was warm, but I felt more exposed than if I’d been naked. The silver chain at my throat was the only thing I kept on, the tiny mountain peak charm a stark contrast against my skin.
Patricia didn’t waste time. She guided me to the heated massage table, the surface warm and vibrating slightly beneath my skin. “Lie down,” she murmured, her voice a low purr. “Let me take care of you.”
I obeyed, my body trembling as I settled onto the table. The heat of the surface was a stark contrast to the cool air, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure through me. Patricia’s hands were warm, slick with oil, as they began to explore my body. She started at my shoulders, her fingers working the tension from my muscles, the oil slick between her hands and my skin.
“You’re tense,” she murmured, her voice smooth. “Let me help with that.”
Her hands worked lower, her fingers tracing the curve of my spine, the dip of my waist, the swell of my hips. The oil was warm, the scent of jasmine thick in the air. I could feel her breath against my skin, her body pressing against mine as she worked. Her touch was possessive, her fingers exploring every inch of me, her rings cool against my skin.
George watched from his chaise, his eyes dark with hunger, his cock thick and heavy in his hand. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His presence was a command, his hunger a promise.
Patricia’s fingers dipped lower, her touch possessive, her fingers finding my pussy. I gasped, my back arching, my body responding to her touch without thought. “You’re already wet,” she murmured, her voice a low purr. “I think you’ve been looking forward to this.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She simply straddled my face, her pussy hovering over my lips, her thighs pressing against my cheeks. I could feel her heat, her scent filling my nostrils, the taste of her already on my tongue. I looked up at her, the angle disorienting, my breath coming in sharp gasps as I struggled to coordinate. I didn’t hesitate. I simply opened my mouth, my tongue sliding against her, the taste of her filling my mouth. George’s hands found my hips, his fingers digging into my skin, his grip possessive as he positioned himself at my entrance.
He didn’t ease in. He thrust, hard and deep, filling me in one stroke. I cried out against Patricia’s pussy, my body trembling as I took him in, my struggle to breathe only heightening the pleasure. The table was warm and vibrating against my skin, the scent of jasmine oil mixing with the musk of sex. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers rough against my skin, his cock driving into me with relentless rhythm.
Patricia began to move, her hips grinding against my mouth, her pussy slick against my lips. I could taste her, the flavor of her arousal filling my mouth, my tongue working her clit with practiced ease. George didn’t stop. He kept fucking me, his pace relentless, his grip on my hips bruising. The angle was perfect—Patricia above me, George behind me, my body a bridge between them.
The spa was alive with the sounds of our pleasure—the wet slide of tongues against slick skin, the sharp gasp of breath, the low groan of our need. The dim lights cast long shadows across the room, the scent of jasmine oil thick in the air.
Patricia came first, her body shaking, her voice a raw cry as pleasure tore through her. She screamed against my mouth, her thighs trembling around my ears as she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm. George didn’t stop. He kept fucking me, his pace relentless, his grip on my hips bruising.
He pulled out, his cock thick and heavy in his hand. Patricia didn’t hesitate. She simply moved, her mouth finding his cock, her lips sealing around his shaft. I followed, my mouth joining hers, our tongues swirling around his cock, meeting at the head, our eyes locking over his shaft. Patricia guided me, her hand on the back of my head, her voice a low murmur. “That’s it,” she whispered. “Take him deep.”
My jaw ached, the memory of Pierce’s cock still fresh in my mind, but I didn’t stop. I worked him with my mouth and hand, my tongue swirling around his shaft, our tongues meeting, our lips sliding against each other. The oil was warm on my skin, the scent of jasmine thick in the air.
George came with a groan, his cock pulsing, his release spilling over my breasts, the cum thick and warm against my skin. Patricia didn’t stop. She simply leaned down, her tongue sliding over my skin, licking up a stripe of cum from my belly. Then she kissed me, the taste of him—and her—filling my mouth, her lips warm against mine.
The pleasure built inside me, a coiling, tightening sensation that made my toes curl, my body trembling. The table was warm and vibrating against my skin, the scent of jasmine oil mixing with the musk of sex. I came with a cry, my body convulsing on the table, my inner walls clenching around nothing, my voice raw as wave after wave of pleasure tore through me.
The spa was quiet afterward, the only sound the soft murmur of the water feature, the distant hum of the lodge. Patricia and George dressed without hurry, their movements efficient, their eyes warm with satisfaction.
I stayed there for a long moment, my body still trembling, my skin slick with oil and cum. The silver necklace glinted against my skin, the silver chain a stark contrast.
A staff member entered to clean up, her eyes flicking to my necklace, her smile knowing. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.
I touched the charm at my throat. The metal was warm. The $47,000 seemed smaller now, a distant concern. I had given them everything. And I would give more.