Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Austin
She runs out and I feel fucking sick.
I was so sure she wanted it as much as I did, and fuck, I wanted it.
As soon as her hands were on me yesterday, even before I knew how beautiful she was, I wanted her hands on my cock.
But she’s a masseuse at a luxury resort, and I’m pretty sure she’s not supposed to do this. Maybe they would do this kind of thing at a Hilton, but at a Wiltmont hotel?
No fucking way.
Liv did it because she wanted to do it.
It was just that afterwards, with my sticky cum all over her hands, reality kicked in, and she freaked the fuck out.
And now I’m freaking out.
The best fucking hand job of my life followed by a woman running away is not what I wanted.
I wanted her to stay. I wanted to talk to her all night long. Feed her. Shower with her. Get to know her.
On a soul level, I feel like I already do.
She’s beautiful and kind and sexy, and now she’s freaking out that we were together like this.
I have to fix this. But how?
I call the spa.
“Wildstone Spa reception, this is Jody.”
“Hey, Jody. It’s Austin Adams.”
“Oh! Mr. Adams!”
I’m not in the fucking mood to be fawned over. “Liv left something behind. Can you have her come and collect it, please? Otherwise, I can bring it to her.”
“She’s about to go in with another client, but I can have her come collect it in about an hour or so. Otherwise, you could just leave it outside your door. Or I can come by after my shift and?—”
“Send Liv,” I say, using my Austin Adams gets anything he wants voice.
“Certainly, sir.”
I swap my towel for a robe and rattle around my room for an hour. After an hour and a half, I wonder if she’s even coming back. Or worse, she’s going to send Jody. Jody seems like a sweet girl, but I don’t want a fan, I want a fucking connection.
I feel like an idiot in my robe, so I throw it onto the couch and change into sweats and a t-shirt. I’m staring out the window at the sunset on the mountain, lost in thought when suddenly there’s a knock on the door. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest.
I’m terrified that it won’t be her.
I’m terrified that it will be.
But as soon as I open the door and see her pretty, soft hazel eyes staring back at me, all I feel in my body is relief. It’s like I can breathe again for the first time in hours.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hi,” she says, her eyes quickly darting past me. “I’m just here to… get my stuff.”
I step out of the way so she can enter the room. “Do you think we should maybe… talk?” I ask gently.
She throws candles into a tote bag, refusing to make eye contact with me.
“About what happened?” I add.
Her eyes find mine again, and fuck, when she looks at me, I could fucking melt into those eyes and never come back from it.
“Nothing happened,” she says with a wobble in her voice.
“Liv, I’m not going to tell anyone,” I assure her.
Her pretty mouth forms a hard line. “If you do, I’ll lose my job.”
“I won’t.”
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m really sorry.”
“Sorry? Fucking hell, Liv. That was the best hand job of my life. Please don’t be fucking sorry!”
“It was completely unprofessional. Not only could I lose my job, but if anyone finds out, I won’t be hired by another hotel. If anyone knew. Fuck!” She turns around, back to me, and I can see her visibly shaking.
This could be really fucking bad for her. And I get it. As someone who’s been dragged through the media more times than I can remember, I know what it’s like to have everyone know something about you that you don’t want them to know.
All the talk on ESPN about me being past it, ready for retirement, a pathetic excuse for a player, constant commentary on my personal life, is nothing compared to having a small town know that you jerked off your massage client.
“Hey,” I say, taking a few tentative steps towards her. “Liv.”
I gently place my hands on her shoulders. Fuck, it feels good to touch her. To have my hands on hers instead of hers just on me. She’s given me so much pleasure over the last few days, and all I want is to reciprocate.
When she was gripping my cock, all I wanted was to sit up, rip open her shirt, shove her skirt up and slide her up and down on me until we both fucking came.
The only regret I have now is that I didn’t make her come first.
“It’s okay,” I whisper into her hair, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “It’s just a thing that happened between two consenting adults.”
She takes a shaky breath, and fuck, is she crying?
I press my body into hers, feeling the softness of her ass on my hardening cock, inhaling her rose-scented shampoo.
She’s going to feel me getting hard. Fuck.
She’s freaking out about giving me a hand job, and now I’m grinding my boner into her ass.
But she presses back into me, and I know. I know that she wants me.
I catch our reflection in the huge, gilded mirror across the room and damn, we look good together. So fucking good.
Her head tilts back and rests on my chest, and fuck, it feels good to hold her like this.
My hands suddenly have a mind of their own, and I’m gripping her waist, my fingers digging into the cotton of her shirt, desperate to touch the soft flesh beneath it. Fuck, her body is perfect.
She lets out a low moan, and I watch in the mirror as I slide my hands up over her shirt, pausing just under her breasts.
“Ughhh,” she groans, her eyes squeezing shut. “I shouldn’t?—”
“Fuck shouldn’t,” I tell her. “You off the clock?”
“Yeah,” she sighs.
“And you want this?” I take one finger and slide her hair away from her neck, placing a lingering tender kiss there. Goddamn, she’s so fucking soft and warm.
“Uhhh,” she whimpers.
“You’ve made me feel so fucking good, Liv. It’s my turn now.”
She lets out a sweet little gasp, and I wonder if it’s been a while since she’s been with a man. I wonder if she’s ever been with a man who’s focused all his energy on making her feel good.
“If I make you come, we’re even. Nothing for you to feel bad about,” I say, running my fingers down her neck and pausing at her top button.
I can see from her reflection in the mirror that she wants this, but I need her to tell me.
“Liv? Do you want me to make you feel good?”
“Yes,” she pants. “Please.”
I make quick work of her buttons, and then pull open her shirt, revealing a sexy black lace bra in the mirror.
“Oh, fuck,” I grunt into her hair. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She lets out a sexy laugh, like maybe she hasn’t been told this for a while, and it kills me. A woman like Liv should be told every fucking day how beautiful she is. Fuck that, ten times a day. A hundred.
I slide my fingers into the lace cups and then I’m pulling them down, watching her breasts tumble free over the cups.
My dick hardens against her as I watch us in the mirror. Her soft, warm tits in my hands, her nipples pebbling at the lightest touch.
“Oh, fuck,” she murmurs, pushing her ass back into me.
“Your tits are amazing,” I tell her.
She lets out that laugh again. Nervous, disbelief.
“Open your eyes,” I command. “Look at yourself.”
She does as I ask, and her beautiful hazel eyes fly open. It’s only now she realizes that there’s a mirror in front of us. That I’ve been watching.
She looks at my hands on her, and her breath hitches.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. Can’t you see it?
” I move my hands back to her waist so she can take herself in.
“This chestnut hair,” I say, running my fingers through her lengths.
“These gorgeous freckles.” I lightly brush her cheek with my thumb.
“This sexy fucking neck.” I kiss her neck, warm, wet, sucking gently.
She whimpers. She fucking whimpers and I love the effect I have on this woman. I love that I have the same effect on her that she has on me.
“These sexy tits,” I say, running my fingers over them. “All of this,” I tell her, pulling her shirt open wide and shoving it down her shoulders, “Is so fucking beautiful.”
She’s staring at me in the mirror now, like maybe even if she doesn’t always believe it, in this moment, she sees it.
“I bet your pussy is fucking beautiful too,” I whisper into her ear. “I bet it tastes amazing.”
“You want to… taste me?”
“Liv. I want to fucking devour you.”
She turns to face me, and seeing her like this, shirt undone, tits falling over the cups of her bra, not just a reflection in the mirror, but right in front of me, makes my cock ache.
She blinks up at me. “Should I have a shower first?”
A howl of laughter escapes from me. “Are you fucking kidding?”
She doesn’t look like she’s kidding.
“No, gorgeous. I don’t want you to take a fucking shower.
” I’m like a man possessed as I yank her shirt down her arms and throw it to the floor.
My hands slide to her ass, and I pull on the zipper of her skirt, shoving it off her.
I get to my knees, yank her ballet flats off her feet and rip her stockings off so she’s in nothing but a lacy black thong and that bra that’s doing absolutely fucking nothing to support those beautiful tits.
I shove my head between her legs and inhale, and she smells fucking divine.
“Fuck, Liv,” I grunt into her lace-covered pussy. “I can’t fucking wait to taste you.”