Chapter Four #2
I nod as we continue on, reaching the spa which isn’t too far off from the solarium—one of my favorite places in the house.
There is nothing like sitting in the hot tub with a glass of whiskey, looking out at Elliot Bay.
It’s a ways away, at the edge of the property, but the view from here is spectacular.
“Here we are,” I say once we’re in the spa room.
Like she did to all the other rooms, she looks around in wonder.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been to my son’s condo.
Five years, I suppose, considering that’s how long he’s lived there.
It may not be as big as this house, but the same woman who decorated my office and my house did his, as well.
This young woman can’t be this impressed over my home, can she?
It’s not like she hasn’t seen money if she’s been with my son for so long.
“I can’t believe you have this in your house,” she says in shock as she moves deeper into the room. It’s not a big place, just enough for what it needs to be.
I look around, never having thought much of having a spa in my house. I don’t use this room as often as I thought I would, preferring the solarium when I’m home. But it’s good to have in case I need it. Like today, for example.
“Is that…” She takes a few steps deeper, then laughs. “That’s a shower.”
“To rinse after a massage. I don’t like the way the oils stay on my skin.”
“Have you tried different products?” she asks, looking over the wall of lotions and oils.
Her fingers run along the bottles as if they are fragile and not plastic.
“This brand tends to be oily, but they have some that rub in better. You go through more of it because of it, but if it would make for a better experience.”
Seeing her hands running over bottles of oil and speaking of massages and rubbing has me thinking of her touching my dick again.
“I’m fine showering afterwards,” I say, knowing I’ll likely never use these products or any other brand again.
I’ve lived in this house since I moved to Seattle and have never once gotten a massage here.
In fact, I’m not even sure the table will hold me, it’s so old, but I guess we will find out.
Had I intended on getting a massage when I called her, I’d have ordered a new one.
The only reason I know the oils leave a residue is because they’re the brand used by the massage therapist I went to years ago, after dislocating my elbow.
“Whatever makes you comfortable.” She plants her hands on her hips. “So, we should get started. Do you have sheets for this table? Is it plugged in already?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly.
She raises a brow at me. “Okay,” she says carefully. “Can I have a moment to figure it out?”
“Please.” I gesture to the table.
She walks over to it, gets to her knees, and bends over to look beneath it.
I grit my teeth, unable to pull my gaze from the way her thighs squish together, or how her ass is so perfectly round and just begging for my mouth.
It takes everything in me not to drop behind her, tear her panties down, and bury my face between her cheeks. I bet she tastes as sweet as she acts.
My dick is fully hard now, and I quickly tuck it up between the waistband of my slacks and stomach before she gets to her feet. Which is two seconds later.
“It doesn’t look to have a heating option. I was sure you’d have a top-of-the-line table,” she says with a wink.
“It’s old.”
She nods, chewing on her bottom lip as she looks around, her gaze stopping on the shelves in the corner.
Going over to them, pulls open the bottom drawer, giving a little aha!
before taking out a pile of white sheets.
She gets to work covering the table, which is wonderful.
I hadn’t wanted to lay on that cheap plastic, but I was willing to for her touch.
God, I haven’t been this enthralled by someone in years.
While she gets the sheets sorted, I pull my phone from my pocket and look up massage tables. I have a feeling I’m going to need a better one. I’ll hire her as my personal masseuse, if needed. Pay her double whatever she makes now with only half the work.
“All finished. I’ll leave the room so you can get changed.
Any state of dress is fine with me. You can keep on anything you’re comfortable with, or take it all off.
” I don’t miss the way her cheeks go pink when she says that.
Are you thinking of me naked, sweetness?
“Just lie face down on the table when you’re done. Under the blankets, of course.”
She nods to herself, then leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
I make quick work of getting all my clothes off, then lie on the table.
I adjust my dick multiple times so my weight isn’t crushing it beneath me.
If this were anyone else, I’d ask for a happy ending outright, but I couldn’t do that with this girl for far too many reasons.
The main one being she’s my son’s ex, and the last thing I need is more fires to put out.
Harrison has given me one big enough to last a lifetime.
There isn’t a machine to erase the knowledge of him sleeping with his stepsister from her brain, meaning she will hold onto this forever.
Meaning she could use it against me forever.
Fucking his stepsister… What on earth was he thinking?
A short time later, there is a knock on the door.
“Are you all set?” Seraphine calls from the other side of the door.
“Yes.”
The door opens and her footsteps get closer to the table. I open my eyes, looking at the floor through the hole for my face.
“Are there any areas you don’t like massaged?”
“No.”
“Any history of injuries?”
“I dislocated my right elbow years ago, but it’s perfectly healed.”
“Thank you for telling me that. Is anything bothering you?”
Other than my aching cock?
“No.”
“Great. If there is anything I do that you don’t like, please tell me. I promise I won’t be offended. It’ll bother me more if you don’t say something.”
I listen as she moves around the room. Soft music starts to play.
I’m not sure where it’s coming from, but it’s calming.
Something with flutes and ocean waves. The lights in the room dim.
Ordering that brand new massage chair was a great idea, but if this were heated, I swear I’d fall asleep.
I want to enjoy every moment of this, so sleeping is a terrible idea.
Seraphine starts by gently pressing on my back, stretching it.
She pulls the sheet down to the top of my ass, tucking it in so it doesn’t dip down too far.
I hear the sound of her pumping oil into her hand, rubbing her hands together, and then her hands are on me.
Small, soft, dainty things that feel immaculate.
Why do I not get massages regularly?
Her fingers dig into the bottom of my back with the perfect amount of pressure before moving up, where I really feel it.
She works parts of my back that almost hurt but eventually fill me with relief.
I hadn’t known I was so tense. When she gets to my shoulders, I have to stop myself from moaning.
And when her hands find my neck, I do moan.
It’s the most unprofessional thing I have ever done, but thankfully, she says nothing about it. In fact, she’s probably used to it.
The number of men she puts her hands on is likely atrocious.
All of them find her attractive, no doubt.
Anyone with eyes would. How many get hard over her touch?
How many moan? How many go home and jerk off thinking about her touching them?
I’m filled with a sudden and irrational rage and a bout of jealousy that defies all logic.
I don’t know this young woman. I don’t have feelings for her. She’s my son’s ex-girlfriend. She has a weapon against me—information she could use against me. There is no reason to be jealous; she doesn’t belong to me.
“Is this okay?” she asks softly, her voice dripping with sex.
Is she enjoying this as much as I am?
I may be fifty-two, but no one believes me when they learn that.
Forty-five at the most is what I’m told.
They’re probably just blowing smoke up in my ass.
But I am in shape, as I work out regularly.
I’m taller than average, and have suits custom made, not only because I prefer it but because off-the-rack options don’t fit right where it matters.
My hair is just starting to get some salt to the pepper, but I hear women like that.
So yeah, if she’s into older men, maybe she is enjoying this.
I’m not sure why I like knowing that.
She spends a lot of time on my neck and shoulders but eventually covers my back with the sheet and moves to my legs. I can’t recall the last time I got a massage, but they certainly didn’t massage my glutes, which is why my body goes stiff when she does.
“Is this okay?” she asks, pausing her movements.
“God, yes.”
She continues and another moan leaves my lips. This time, I’m not even embarrassed by it.
I’m surprised at how goddamn good this feels. Who knew my ass cheeks were so tense?
My dick is harder than ever, and time is dwindling to when I’ll be told to turn over. Perhaps I should have left my briefs on for that reason alone, but I wasn’t thinking. Not that it would have done a hell of a lot with only this thin sheet, but maybe it would have.
When she tells me it’s time to roll over and holds up the sheet for me to do so, I count my blessings and hope she doesn’t run for the hills and claim sexual assault at my erection pointing in her direction.