Matt (Red, Hot, & Blue)

by Cat Johnson

  That request seemed safe enough.

  She nodded, reached out and offered him her hand. He took it and let her lead him to the bedroom, where Matt began to wonder if she’d understood him. It was very likely massage had different connotations here. When she unbuttoned his shirt and reached for his pants, he got even more nervous. On instinct, his hands stilled hers at his fly.

  “Pants get in the way of the massage.”

  “But just a massage, right?” he asked.

  “I understand. Massage.”

  Matt hesitated for a moment and then sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his shoes and socks. He stood again and dropped his pants, diving face down onto the bed in his briefs before she got the idea his underwear would interfere with the massage too.

  He heard her move and turned his head to see her reach into the drawer of the bedside table and pull out a bottle of oil. Brow raised, he wondered what else was in there. He’d have to investigate that when she left.

  Expertly warming the oil in her hands before applying it to his back, she set to working on his travel-weary muscles. She must have been trained in massage, as well as the other things he hesitated to imagine. It wasn’t too bad. In fact, he could get used to this kind of treatment after a hard day of hunching over a computer keyboard. She worked his shoulders, hard and deep. The woman had magic hands.

  Moving down, she treated every knot until the tension eased. She moved down farther and kneaded his lower back. A moan escaped him when she hit on one area that had been bothering him since he’d strained it during a team workout last week. It made him feel so good, so relaxed, Matt considered asking if she could come back again tomorrow for another massage.

  She slipped her hands beneath the waistband of his underwear and his breath caught in his throat. She began to work his glutes. Not shy, she dug right in while Matt held his breath. It was just another muscle. Right? He tried to convince himself of that. She worked her way lower, her well-oiled thumbs spreading his cheeks. He felt the cool air of the room hitting a private spot that he didn’t want exposed to anyone. Certainly not a stranger during a massage.

  When her fingertip pressed against his tight hole, Matt flipped over. “That’s enough. Thanks.”

  “I will do the front.” She poured more oil into her hand and Matt realized his mistake. He’d covered his rear, but he’d exposed his front.

  Before she could touch anything else, such as the burgeoning erection he prayed would stay down, he said, “No. That’s really—”

  Ignoring his protest, she reached and grabbed his arm, beginning to work on the biceps. Arms were good. Nice and safe. He could handle that. Eyes closed, he tried to relax as she glided over his chest, soothing away the tension he held there.

  Then the downward decent began again, and she slipped one hand beneath the elastic of his briefs. His eyes flew open about the same time his cock reacted to her touch.

  Her well-oiled fingers grasped him as he watched, horrified when he realized he was doing nothing to stop her. She slid her hands up and down his length until he was totally aroused and appalled.

  Matt drew in a shaky breath. “What are you doing?”

  She looked at him but her fingers never stopped. “Massage.”

  Oh, boy. As his mind reeled, he dropped his head back on the pillow. Breathing heavy, Matt argued with himself. Maybe this was just part of a normal Dubai massage. In her eyes, there could be nothing sexual about this. It was just a massage.

  Yeah, right. Just a massage during which she took her other hand and began to tug on his balls while she fisted his shaft.

  She’d do anything and everything he asked sexually—instinctively he knew. It was her job, and it was because of that he’d vowed to not take advantage of her.

  He could let her finish. It wouldn’t take very long. In spite of his thinking he didn’t want this, the feel of someone else’s hands on his dick besides his own was a really nice change. And if he sent her away now, he could risk insulting the host who’d sent her, who most likely was a member of the royal family.

  She’d already had her hands all over him. Would stopping her before he came make any difference?

  It would to him.

  Matt sat up and grabbed her wrist. “Thank you. I’m good. You can go now.”

  He watched her brow furrow. “I displease you. My apologies.”

  “No, you don’t displease me. You please me very much.” As evidenced by the protrusion tenting his briefs. “But I don’t usually have women service me like you were doing. Do you understand?”

  An expression of relief showed clearly on her face. She nodded. “Yes, I understand. I will leave you.”

  “Thank you. And, uh, thanks for the massage.” He let out a slow breath as she backed out of the room, her eyes downcast.

  The door closed and Matt flung himself backward onto the mattress, considering if he was noble or a fool. Either way, he had no intention of telling a soul about this. Not that they’d believe him anyway. A freaking harem girl. Jeez.

  Matt forced himself to sit up. He still had a situation to deal with. Grabbing the bottle of oil she’d left on the nightstand, he slid off the high bed. It was lonely on the moral high ground. Matt realized that as he, his bottle of oil and his hard-on headed for the bathroom.

  As his own oiled hand worked, Matt allowed himself the leeway of envisioning her incredible body beneath the barely there outfit. As torn as he was about the whole incident, his mind still turned to the feel of her hands on him. That did it. He was done for. Matt came hard and fast into his own gold toilet. It was one hell of a fucked-up experience all around.

  He’d just finished his own personal massage when there was a knock on the bathroom door. The sound made him jump. He’d have to remember that privacy here at the compound was just an illusion. He slipped on a robe and opened the door.

  Standing before him, head down, was a young, dark-haired boy. He looked to be about in his late teens. “Hi. Can I help you?”

  The boy bowed his head. “Jasmine sent me.”

  Who the hell was Jasmine? “Um. Okay. What did she send you to do?”

  The dinner dishes had been taken away already. Maybe this kid was supposed to turn down the bed and leave a chocolate on the pillow.

  “She said you would prefer me to service you, rather than her.”

  Matt felt the blood drain from his face. This place gave room service a whole new meaning. Shit. He should have just let Jasmine finish the job. Now what? He definitely wasn’t letting this kid…he couldn’t even finish the thought in his own head. Damn it. They should have covered this kind of cultural shit better in training. He’d rather eat monkey brains than have to dance around in this sexual minefield the whole time he was here.

  His head still down, the boy waited for Matt’s response.

  “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  At least he wasn’t a child. He only looked like one. Another thought flitted across Matt’s brain that nearly made him ill. He hoped to God that if this boy was being sent to service men, that he at least preferred men. To be prostituted was bad enough, but to be forced to do something against his very nature, that was inhuman.

  Matt had to find out. If this place was a center for some sort of sex-slave trade, he could do something about it.

  Yeah, sure. His exposing the leader of Dubai as running a sex ring wouldn’t disturb international relations too much.

  “Sit down.” Matt indicated a chair across the room.

  The boy turned, walked to the chair, sat and waited. Another horrible notion crossed Matt’s mind. What if the boy assumed he’d been asked to sit so his mouth would be crotch level with a standing man?

  As fast as he could, Matt sat himself in a chair far across the room. The boy’s gaze rose and an expression of confusion settled on his face.

  “You wish to ask me something.” It was more statement than question. Luckily, the boy spoke first. Matt was having trouble finding w
ords.

  “Do they…force you to do this? Make you come to me, to others, against your will.”

  He smiled at Matt. “You think I am being forced?”

  “Yes.” Matt nodded. “You’re not?”

  “No, not at all. It is seen as a great honor to service a guest of the royal family. When Jasmine told me of her dilemma, I offered to come.” He lowered his head. “If I don’t please you, I can send one of the others.”

  Ah, shit. There were more of them? Matt tried not to think about how boys and girls from all over the complex were lining up somewhere to service him. And how every one he turned away would see it as a rejection, worthy of shame. Jeez. This was too much responsibility. Maybe the tech guy he’d worked with today had a room for him to stay in. Hell, he’d sleep with the computers if he had to.

  He’d consider that tomorrow. Tonight, there was an ever-worsening situation to repair. “What’s your name?”

  “Rashid.”

  “Rashid, can I tell you a secret, just between us men?”

  The boy nodded.

  “I don’t um, lie with men. I prefer women.” Matt’s cheeks were probably about as red as the covering on his bed at this crazy conversation.

  Rashid’s eyes opened wide. “I understand now. You did not like Jasmine but did not want to hurt her by saying so. You are a very kind man.”

  Close enough. Matt nodded. “You won’t tell Jasmine or her, uh, boss, will you? I don’t want to get her into trouble.”

  “No, sir. I won’t tell. But people will notice if I leave here too soon. The guard outside…”

  There was a guard outside? That was freaking news to Matt and raised the question of whether the guard was to keep him in or others out. He pushed that out of his mind to consider later, as well. Right now, Matt had to kill some time with Rashid so no more sexual gifts would be delivered tonight.

  “Hey, Rashid, do you ever get to play computer games?” By the huge saucer-eyed look he got, Matt determined the answer was no. “I could show you how to play one, if you’d like.”

  Vigorous nodding followed, so Matt made his way across the room to the computer. As he booted it up, he couldn’t help but think he would never, ever complain about being stuck in the van again. If this kind of shit was what being in the thick of the action entailed, the other guys could have it.

  Chapter Four

  Sam had intended to slip around the palace as much as she could. However, the moment she arrived she knew it would be impossible to move about unnoticed. The sheer amount of electronic surveillance as well as guards guaranteed that.

  “This is where you’ll live.” Sam’s guide, a man dressed in servants’ garb, stopped outside a closed door. He set down her bag, nodded and left.

  All righty. Sam bent to retrieve her single piece of luggage from the floor and opened the door. It was like stepping back in time, right down to the dozen or so girls in harem outfits staring and giggling as she stood in the doorway.

  “Come in. Quickly. Shut the door.”

  “Okay.” Sam took a step in and closed the door.

  “Men can’t see the girls unless the sheikh says they may.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Sam extended her hand. “I’m Sabrina.”

  “Yes, of course. I was told to expect a new girl. You may call me Ana. You’ll need something to wear.” The older woman ignored the bag in Sam’s hand.

  “I packed a variety of clothes. Dressy. Casual.”

  “No. In the past, yes, western clothing would have been fine, but not now. The sheikh has a very important guest staying here. Royalty. He prefers the old ways, so we comply.”

  This was not good news, because the old way was apparently nearly naked. Physically, Sam was in good shape. She worked out enough so she should be. Showing off a toned body in a bathing suit was fine, but showing off her nipples for royal guests in a palace was quite another.

  Ana reached behind an ornate screen and came out with a costume to match what the other girls wore. “Here. This should work with your coloring. You’d be more popular with the men if you had more curves. You’ll have to eat more. For now, they may be intrigued enough with your blonde hair and blue eyes to overlook you’re built like a boy. Then again, there are those who prefer the boys who may like you as well.”

  When Sam didn’t move to change, Ana frowned. “Get dressed. What are you waiting for? He expects you now.”

  “Who expects me?”

  “The Prince of Brunei, of course.”

  As she slipped behind the screen, Sam’s mind spun, remembering something she’d read years ago about Brunei and its royal family. It was rumored that they partied like Hugh Hefner, surrounded by beautiful women from all over the world. To the best of Sam’s recollection, the current sultan’s brother, Prince Jefri, had been accused of embezzling billions of dollars, besides other allegations of the more sexual nature. Disgraced, Jefri had fled his country.

  And now this prince from Brunei was a guest of the royal family of Dubai and wanted her to come to him…dressed like this. Holy shit, this was not what Sam had expected. It was enough to make her head spin.

  There was no mirror, so how was she supposed to know how she looked in this outfit? Perhaps it was better that she didn’t know.

  Sam stepped out from behind the screen to find Ana nodding. “Good. Let’s go.”

  Maybe this prince just liked to welcome all the new girls. Sam tried to convince herself of that during the walk through some private hallways leading to another closed door. When Ana knocked, a guard opened it to them.

  Two things told Sam she might be in trouble here, in addition to the heavily armed guard. First, the sunken bathing tub filled with naked women. And second, the equally nude man who must be the prince himself.

  “Eyes down,” Ana hissed the order. “And remember, the sheikh wants his guests kept happy, no matter what.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ana wasn’t much of an ally, but once she had gone, Sam realized how alone she was. She should have let the commander contact someone here, the way he’d wanted to.

  “Come here. Let me see you.” Prince Jefri’s intense stare took her in from head to toe, pausing at plenty of places in between during his perusal.

  Eyes down, she took one step forward.

  “You’re too thin.”

  So she’d been told. “My apologies.”

  “Come closer.”

  Swallowing hard, Sam moved closer, just as the prince hoisted himself out of the water, naked as the day he was born and fully aroused. He came to her and grasped her chin, raising it. “Blue eyes. Real? Or are they fake lenses?”

  “Real.” For the first time in her life, Sam wished they weren’t.

  He nodded and released her chin. “The tits are obviously real.”

  He circled to stand behind Sam. She didn’t like not being able to see him. The feel of Jefri’s hand on her belly had her drawing in a breath. He slid it up and cupped her breast. Pressing against her back, so close she smelled the wine on his breath and felt the water from his skin soak through her clothing, he said, “Eat more.”

  If he felt the thundering of her heart as the adrenaline pounded through her veins, he didn’t say so.

  Sam’s gaze caught on the expression of the three women in the bath. Two looked curious, while pure hatred radiated off one.

  Perfect. Just what Sam needed. Jealousy. Now the prince’s main squeeze viewed her as competition and hated her on sight. Little did this woman know, Sam would be more than happy to let her have the prince all to herself.

  He moved his hand from her breast around to the small of her back. There, he trailed one finger down the crack between her ass cheeks.

  Sam held her breath. She’d have to do it. If Jefri decided to bend her over and take her here and now, she’d do it. Because if ever there were a man with motive to sell secrets, it was this one.

  Shamed though Jefri had been in his own country, he was here as a guest of the royal family of
Dubai. To object to whatever he asked of her could get Sam thrown out, or worse, expose her cover.

  They’d been trained to withstand torture. She’d withstand this.

  “She’s pretty, no?” Jefri asked the girls in the tub.

  “Not particularly,” the one giving her the hate-filled stares answered.

  Jefri chuckled while patting Sam’s ass.

  “I will look forward to getting to know you better.” He left Sam, went back to the tub and sat on the edge next to the woman shooting daggers from her eyes. “You may go.”

  Sam dipped her head in a nod. She was about to turn toward the door when the prince grasped the woman’s head and pushed her mouth down over his thick erection. “Now, you bad girl. Show the others what happens to girls with sharp tongues.”

  The guard’s hand on her elbow brought Sam’s attention around. She was more than happy to let him lead her out. During the walk back to Ana, Sam realized she needed to get what she’d come to do done and get the hell out of here. The sooner the better.

  If she’d learned anything being in the military, it was to adapt and overcome. She needed a plan of action. If she couldn’t roam the compound searching for their target, whoever was corresponding with known terrorist cells, she’d find another way. Even if she had to listen to every bit of gossip about the residents and employees at the compound. Even if she had to let that vile man put his hands on her, she would for the mission.

  The guard left her at the end of the private hallway, once again outside the door to the room that she hated to call the harem. The camera aimed at the door told her there was no way she could go wandering around even if she were alone. Shaking, Sam knocked on the door, and it was once again opened.

  “What did he say?” Ana was there immediately, demanding a report.

  “I should eat more.”

  One sharp brow cocked up. “Just as I said.” Ana’s lips formed a thin, hard line. “First the American guest turns away my best girl in favor of a slip of a boy who now talks of nothing but the computer games he played with him. And now, they send me a girl built like a boy.”