Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
Quinn
“Here.” I hold out my hand, offering the fancy drink I picked up from the coffee shop down the street. I know it’s one of her favorite places, and she frequents it often thanks to its convenient location to where she works.
“What’s this?” she asks, looking down at the drink as if it might bite her.
“Poison.”
She narrows her eyes and snatches at the drink, but I’m quicker. “Seriously?”
Grinning, I hold it out once more. “What do you say?”
She huffs, as if saying those words are like acid on her tongue. “Please and thank you.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Wow, a please and a thank you. Is Hell freezing over?”
She grumbles and grabs for the drink. This time, I let her have it. She takes a greedy gulp, closing her eyes and smiling as she savors that first taste. “Damn, that’s so good.”
“I told them to give you extra Red Bull. Figured you could use the burst of energy.”
“Totally,” she says, nodding toward the open door for her studio. “Let me get the bed ready.”
Something in the way she says that sends a jolt of lust straight to the appendage below the belt.
My cock has definitely taken notice of her statement, eager to jump into said bed with her.
Only, he doesn’t understand the bed she’s referring to is the massage table, not a true bed.
I get it, but even my own functioning brain zeroed in on her blunder.
And it had to be a blunder, because anytime she’s referred to her table, she’s said just that.
I’ve never heard her refer to it as a bed.
And dammit, I hope I never do again, because I’m two seconds away from a full hard-on, and I have to get undressed.
This was a terrible idea.
“Maybe I should skip today,” I blurt out from the doorway after she set her drink down on the small table and grabs fresh bedding.
Spinning around, she holds the blankets to her chest. “What? Why?”
My heart is pounding in my chest. “You’re exhausted. You’ve been working for hours.”
Charli shrugs and starts making up the table. “It’s fine, Quinn. Really. I don’t mind. You’ve got an issue with your back, and this will help.”
I have an issue, all right, but it’s not my back that’s stiff…
I should turn around and leave. Right now.
Grandma, grandma, grandma…
“Okay, you usually get a deep tissue massage, right?” she asks, grabbing her drink and turning to face me. “Do you still want that today?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, any sensitive or no-touch areas you want me to avoid?”
Don’t say dick. Don’t say dick.
“Nope, I’m good,” I tell her.
“All right. Go ahead and strip down to whatever level you feel comfortable. You’ll be beneath a sheet at all times.”
I nod, my throat dry and my dirty brain still stuck on the word strip.
“I’ll give you a few minutes and be right back.” She grabs her drink and exits the room, leaving me alone with the soft music and my hard-on.
“Fuck,” I mutter, running my hand down my face and taking a few calming breaths. This is a bad idea.
But instead of heading straight for the exit, I remove my flannel shirt and hang it on the back of the chair.
It’s quickly followed by my T-shirt before I bend down and unlace my work boots.
It takes me a minute to get them off and set them beneath the chair, and eventually, I’m able to remove my belt and jeans.
I quickly fold the denim and my T-shirt before turning my attention to the table.
Just as I take a step forward, there’s a knock on the door and it’s pushed open.
I don’t have time to say a word. All I can do is stand here in my boxer briefs and watch as a whole movie scene of emotions play across Charli’s face.
Shock, embarrassment, and even intrigue.
I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to my chest and soak in the sight before skating their way down my abdomen and landing firmly on my groin.
And that pesky fucker? Oh, he notices instantly and starts to get hard all over again.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurts out without turning around or shielding her eyes. “I thought you’d be ready. For me. On the bed.” Her eyes fly up to meet mine. “On the table!”
I can’t help but grin. “Almost ready,” I tell her, holding her gaze. “Let me get on the…bed.”
All of a sudden, I see something I don’t think I’ve ever seen before in my entire life. Charli Miller blushes. It’s a bright red hue that makes her blond hair shine brighter and her blue eyes sparkle like sapphires.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
And just as I’d expect her to, she doesn’t shy away from the sight of me in my underwear. Why would she? She’s seen me in swim trunks plenty of times over the years, and while this isn’t exactly the same, it’s not too far off either.
“Can I get on the table, or do you need a few more minutes to gawk?”
That lights the fire I’ve been expecting. Placing her hands on her hips, she narrows her eyes and says, “I’m not gawking. I just haven’t seen your new ink yet. I was checking it out.”
I almost laugh out loud. My newest piece of ink is on my pec, not my crotch, but since I’m pretty damn proud of the tattoo, I forgo any comment I was going to say and turn my attention to the black ink on my skin. “He did a great job, didn’t he?”
She steps closer, her finger reaching out and gliding along the skin.
She doesn’t ask to touch me, not that I’d stop her anyway, but having her fingertip slide against my chest is not good.
My body ignites, heat flooding my veins at an alarming rate.
“It’s gorgeous,” she says, dragging her fingers across my flesh. “Did Dwayne do this one too?”
My head feels a bit lightheaded and it’s hard to draw a complete breath into my lungs. “He did,” I reply a little hoarse, as I clear my throat. “We did two sessions.”
“It’s stunning,” she says, her words heavily laced with awe.
“Thanks.”
She looks up, meeting my gaze. “What does it mean?”
“The eagle and lion represent strength, freedom, and independence. I wasn’t really sure how I wanted them mixed and left the design concept up to Dwayne.
He fucking killed it,” I say, glancing down at the tattoo.
There’s a lion head at the top with an eagle head just beneath it.
They’re offset a bit and looking in opposite directions.
The realism is out of this world and the shading top-notch.
It’s a badass piece, and I’m damn honored to have it on my skin.
“He really did.” She glances one last time at my chest before taking a step back, dropping her hand in the process. “I made an appointment.”
“Yeah? What are you getting?”
“Well, Sommer and I are both getting one. We’ve been talking about doing a besties tattoo for a while now, and I decided my thirtieth birthday was the right time. We’re getting two hearts, one colored for her and one for me, with the words ‘soul sisters’ beneath it.”
The picture she paints makes me grin. “Very fitting.”
“Isn’t it?” she asks with a chuckle. “Anyway, you should climb onto the table. Let’s get this show on the road, or I’m going to charge you extra for the extended appointment time.”
Shaking my head, I lift the top sheet and climb onto the bed, face down.
I can feel her eyes on me, and there’s a smile on my face when I place it in the headrest. With my hands on the pegs beneath me, I take a few deep breaths and try to relax.
I’m a bit uncomfortable, considering my cock is still very much a part of the conversation at the moment.
I feel her adjust the sheet, folding it down to cover my ass. “Ready?”
“Definitely.”
Then, I feel her hands on my back and I tense. “Relax.”
I inhale and let it out slowly. With my eyes closed, I focus on my breathing as she starts to move her hands. Her fingers work over my back gently, stretching and warming up the muscles. As good as this feels, I know what’s to come is even better.
“Tell me if you need more or less pressure, okay?”
“Yep,” I mutter, even though I can barely open my mouth, thanks to the donut of the headrest.
She digs her fingers into my muscles and it’s almost orgasmic.
I bite back a moan of pleasure and feel the tension just ebb from my body.
Her strokes are slow and her fingers apply the perfect amount of pressure to knead and work the muscles in my back.
Charli expertly works over my back and shoulders, causing just enough pain to feel so fucking good.
Of course, adding to it is the fact the hands rubbing my body right now belong to the one woman I’ve wanted for pretty much my entire adult life, and can’t have, is a reminder of why I went to the other massage place.
There, I didn’t have to worry about my body’s reaction to a good rubdown, and despite being as relaxed as I can get, my body has a mind of its own.
“Is this okay?” she asks softly, digging the heel of her palm into a knot.
I can’t stop the groan this time. “Jesus, Charli. Fucking amazing.”
Her hands pause but only for the briefest of moments. It happens so fast, I almost wonder if I just imagined it. Charli keeps going, grinding into my muscles and tendons until they’re loose. I breathe through it, focusing on relaxation.
When she moves to my lower back, it’s the best kind of pain there is. She digs into my hips, causing everything in me to tense and scream. “Lord, you’re tight.”
“No shit,” I mutter, grimacing as she works over my achy muscles.
“How often do you go to North Ridge?” she asks. There isn’t a hint of annoyance in her voice this time, just curiosity.
“Depending on the time of year and how busy I am, I go every three to four weeks.”
She doesn’t stop what she’s doing, just keeps hitting every sore or tender spot I have. “Holy shit, Quinn, your knots have knots,” she says, using her elbows to manipulate the muscles.
It’s pure torture mixed with pleasure, and I can’t help but wonder if the woman is getting off on it. “You’re enjoying this,” I say with a wince.