by Jo Raven
“Well, we'll just have to deal with this for about five more months.” I've been putting in four hours of class a day after work to complete my five hundred credit hours in six months. I thought I would be getting used to it by now, but I'm not. It feels like I'm always exhausted. The weekends are the only time I have to relax, and even then I need to catch up on my chores and socializing, so it feels like I don't get any time off at all.
Despite all my complaining though, I am grateful. Once this is over, my life will be a lot easier because I'll be able to make more money.
“And then you'll be saying bye-bye to Enkidu Industries.” She mirrors what I'm subconsciously thinking. Now that I've gotten a attached to Parker though, I'm not sure I could just leave him behind. I'll have to figure out some way to approach him on the subject of working somewhere else but still being able to come in and give him his daily massage. Hopefully, he won't care. After all, he only hired me so that he could see me everyday, and if I don't cut out our hour together, then he'll still be seeing me at the same frequency. I just won't be under his thumb.
“I'm not too sure.” I lazily stir my margarita with the straw poking out from the frozen peak. The damn thing is a bit too frozen to enjoy.
“You guys going to stay fuck buddies?” The way she says it has a disapproving bite to it. She's probably just bitter because Jason is a broke-ass beanpole with a little dick.
“I would hope so.” I do hope so. Parker is the best lover I've ever had. I remember how disheartening the search for an equally good lay was after Anders. For the longest time, I thought I'd never have that again. It wasn't until years after I stopped looking that I had the dumb luck of walking into Parker Bernier's private massage room.
“You haven't asked him how he feels about you yet, have you?” She wrinkles her nose as she takes a sniff of the chocolate martini in front of her.
“How do you ask your boss something like that?” I quirk an eyebrow as I lean back against the uncomfortable booth seat. It seems like an inappropriate thing to ask Parker, especially since I don't want to seem like I'm fishing for a relationship. Besides, he tells me how he feels all the time, at least when we're having sex. That's not the same thing though.
She puts her elbow on the table and cups her chin with her hand, staring at the martini like it's her enemy. I don't know why she orders them when it's inevitably too strong. It seems like once every three or four months she forgets that she doesn't like martinis. “I don't know, Kira. You have a talent for getting yourself into bad situations with men.”
“I know.” My eyes shoot up to the sky.
“All I know is that this is a recipe for you to get hurt. You think it's okay now, but when you eventually see him with someone else, it's going to destroy you. I think you should talk to him and figure out where your boundaries lie.”
I know that what she's saying is true. Even though I keep trying to tell myself it's just sex, my heart says it's more. Eventually, he'll have me hook, line, and sinker, and when he does, it will be too late for me to backpedal. If his feelings for me aren't sincere… I don't even want to think about what that will do to me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Yolanda's words nag me for the remainder of the weekend. I want to curse her for making me realize just how deep I'm beginning to fall for Parker Bernier. Now my heart is on high alert and my mind is going crazy. Can I carry on when I know the inevitable consequences of my actions? Men like him are bad. They don't care who they hurt as long as they get what they want.
On Monday, I spend a large portion of my workday planning my resistance. If we're going to continue on the way we have been, then I need to build an impenetrable shield around my heart to protect me from whatever douchebaggery he'll throw my way. I'm honestly not sure if I'm capable of that though. Perhaps I'm already in over my head.
As it is now, I feel like a complete mess. By the time my regular workday is done, and it's time to see Parker, I feel no better than I did when Yolanda and I left the bar on Saturday night. In fact, I feel worse.
I try to put my mind on autopilot as Parker advances on me. It's just sex, I tell myself. It's not just sex though. Not to me. Not anymore. Am I willing to lose everything by bringing this up to him? If I don't, my own internalizing might kill me before he even gets a chance.
My mouth is full of his cock and my mind full of everything he's ever said to me. He's been nothing but sweet and kind. If he doesn't care about me, then he should win an award for his acting skills. He said he was addicted to me. He made me believe it. Is it really true?
I gasp as he fills my mouth with his pleasure, my throat frantically opening to take it all down. His fist is in my hair, and he's pumping into me, gazing at me with a look of pure desire on his face. Any other day, I would be purely focused on drinking him in. Right now though, the tension inside my mind is bubbling to the surface. We need to discuss this, or I need to get away from him. I can't allow him to turn into another Asher Shepard—another mistake.
“I told my best friend about us.” Really, Kira? Is that how you're going to begin? I lean back on my calves and look up at him while I lick the remaining stickiness from my lips.
I half expect him to be upset, but instead, he just smirks, reaching down to trail his thumb over my bottom lip. He's so devastatingly handsome when he looks at me like this. It makes me want to suck his cock again, but I know he's ready to move on to other things, and in all honesty, so am I. My body needs him, as it always does.
“I assume your friend knows who I am.” His words are full of arrogance. He wants me to tell him the whole world knows who he is, like he's some celebrity.
“She knew more about you than I did when I first met you.”
“And what did you tell her about us?” He turns from me to retrieve a condom from his blazer pocket. I want to tell him that she could see right through my hard exterior. That she knows I have feelings for him. Does he know I have feelings for him?
“I told her I don't just give you massages.” I bite my bottom lip, leaning back onto my ass and readjusting. Usually, right after I blow him, he wants to either eat me out or dive straight into sex. Either one would be welcome.
“Elaborate.” The smugness of his expression when he turns back to me is exasperating. He's finding this way too amusing.
“I told her we fuck.” It's such a raw thing to say, but it's the truth. Seeing his naked muscular body standing before me makes my body ache for him. My thighs fall apart, showing my desire.
“You're already so wet for me.” He kneels between my legs before leaning in to take my nipple between his teeth. I groan at the sharp pain that assaults me and rake my fingers through his hair. It's the first time I've realized he doesn't get upset when I do this. Every afternoon, he walks out the massage room with just-fucked hair. We both do. No one questions it.
“I told her you're amazing in bed.”
Feeding his ego spurs him on. His mouth lavishes affection on my chest, causing my taut peaks to throb with pleasure.
“You told her I'm the best you've ever had.” He whispers a trail down my body, and I lean back in anticipation, letting my head fall to the side as his lips move closer to my clit.
“You are the best I've ever had.” It's the truth. While Anders was incredible, his skills in the bedroom pale in comparison to what Parker can do. It doesn't take much effort at all for him to bring me to my limits. That speaks of my sheer lust for him.
“I could never get enough of this body.” His face disappears between my legs, and my back arches as his tongue deftly flicks out at my sex.
“Mmm. Just like that.” I buck up into him as he draws my pleasure to the surface. He knows not to let up. His mouth and lips are relentless, pulling the orgasm out of me. A small whimper rumbles in my throat as the contractions begin, my body crumbling from his skill.
“You taste so good,” he purrs, peeking over my mound as he rubs out the rest of my climax with two fingers.
I lie brea
thless below him, watching as he straightens himself and reaches for the foil packet which he had tossed on the floor beside us. His cock is already fully engorged and ready to spread me. I shift and bite my bottom lip at the thought. I need to say what I wanted to say before he erases my mind with his body completely.
“Do you wish we did this more often?” I try not to make the question sound too needy, especially since it's going to lead into something much bigger.
“I wish we could do this all the time.” He climbs on top of me, placing hungry, breathy kisses on my neck. The tip of his cock rests between my legs, and I instinctively bow my thighs even more.
“I mean more than just at work.” I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders only to feel him retreat back into a sitting position. He grabs both of my legs, pushing them up to my chest, so he can look at my pussy. I lie back and watch him move. His focus is so pinpointed. His cock slides across my wetness, making my clit pulse. It won't be long before he's inside of me, before he's stretching me.
“You can't get enough of my dick, can you?” He lets my right leg go and puts a bit of his weight on my left as he grabs his shaft and guides himself to my entryway. A low groan sails across his lips as he pushes himself into me, tunneling through my depths.
“Yes!” I was supposed to say no, but it just felt too damn good. How can I think when he's filling me so completely? It's like his cock is so much that there's no room for anything else inside of me.
“I could never get enough of this. Never.” He bucks forward, taking long calculated thrusts. His glans nearly falls out of me as he withdraws, only to plunge back in to the hilt, causing a biting pain when I take him all inside. The sheer intensity of it turns anything I would have said into a string of moans.
He pulls out of me briefly to massage his length against my sex. It's like he's my own personal vibrator, the silky skin of his shaft rubbing mercilessly across my clit until I'm coming a second time. As soon as he feels the contractions pulsing against him, he shoves his dick in me again, my body squeezing around him while my toes curl in ecstasy.
“Fuck, you're so tight. It doesn't matter how many times I fuck you. Your body is so good.” He hugs my leg for better penetration and presses back inside. All I can do is moan and stifle my cries as he drives himself into me until his breath is ragged. I want to rock my hips, but I know he wants this control, and so I let him have it, fucking me until his body finally breaks against mine, and I listen to the sweet sound of my name trailing from his lips.
“We definitely need to do this more often,” I whisper breathlessly as his body leaves me. Now that we're both drained, I can refocus on the subject at hand.
He walks on his knees towards the trashcan, looking a bit silly with his cock bobbing every which way. I grin at his backside as he pulls the condom off, ties it up, and disposes of it. Taking the trash out immediately after his massage is one of my top priorities, lest someone find out about our special activities.
“You're such a greedy girl.” He casts a smile over his shoulder before returning to me and pulling himself against the wall. When he makes grabby hands at me, my grin widens. It's cuddle time.
“Only greedy for you.” I scoot myself back until I'm leaning against his chest.
He circles me with his arm, drawing me to him. “You better be.”
“I am. That's why I want to see you more.” Nervousness takes over as I realize I'm making it obvious that I'm pressing the subject. My eyes fall to my lap, and I begin picking at one of my nails.
“How's school going?”
I'm glad he can't see me frowning. “Good.” It's going as well as can be expected, given my constant exhaustion. Our instructor is spunky and fun. All of my classmates are nice. There's no homework, and the coursework itself isn't too difficult. “It reminds me of nursing school, to a certain degree. There's a lot of anatomy and physiology that I didn't expect.”
“I'm glad you're catching on quickly.” He rubs my shoulder lazily.
“I appreciate you sending me.” I glance up at him. He looks completely lost in some blissful after-orgasm state where I can barely reach him. When he doesn't respond, I continue, “You know, I'm going to have to put in fifty hours of actual massage where I work with clients. I was kind of hoping you would come to the school and help me get some of my credit hours in.”
“That's still a ways off, isn't it? They don't make you do that until the very end.”
“Yes.” I nod. “Still, I would like you to go. They said we can bring our own friends and family as clients. And you'll get half off.”
“Why should I go there when you give me massages here all the time?” He has a point.
“It would just be helpful for me.” I shrug, stifling a sigh at his stubbornness. My attempts at trying to get him to see me outside of work are failing. If he doesn't divert, he has an excuse. Maybe Yolanda was right. Perhaps I should give up on ever hoping for anything more with him.
***
“We should celebrate.” Yolanda steals the cherry from the top of the ice cream sundae we're sharing, and it takes everything in me not to scowl. Usually, she leaves it for me. She says she hates cherries. I don't know why she decided to start liking them again now.
“Is there something to celebrate?” I grumble, trying not to be bitter at the fact that she just snatched away my favorite part of the entire dessert.
“You starting school. We never really went out and celebrated it.” She seems blissfully oblivious. Why am I holding on to this? It's just a cherry.
“We go out all the time.” I gesture to the ice cream parlor around us. It's true. Every weekend, we're somewhere. If it's not a restaurant, then it's a bar or an ice cream parlor. It's amazing I haven't gained a hundred pounds from all of our going out.
“But not to officially celebrate.” She points her spoon at me, her eyebrows lifting as if to say it's the best idea ever.
I can't help but roll my eyes. “I've already been in school for a month. The celebration ship has sailed already.”
“Nonsense.” She shakes her head vigorously. “Sure, we go out all the time, but we never go anywhere special.”
“What's special to you?” I laugh.
“We should go to the Tower of the Americas.” She leans forward, and the light catches the twinkle of excitement in her eyes.
I groan. “You know I hate heights.” I always have, ever since I was a child and my mom's ex-husband forced me onto a rollercoaster and then pried my hands off of the safety bar when we were on the down-slope. It scarred me for life.
“Oh, you're no fun.” She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts.
“Pick somewhere on the ground, and I might be more apt to agree.” I smirk at her childishness.
“I don't know of any other expensive places.”
“What about Morton's?” I try to recall everything I know of San Antonio's more pricey restaurants. The only location for Morton's is on the Riverwalk, so it can't be cheap.
“Never heard of it.” She waves her spoon at me dismissively before plunging it into the vanilla ice cream on her side of the bowl.
“Can't we just eat at a normal restaurant to celebrate?” My shoulders slump. I don't even want to celebrate. The time for celebrating should be when I graduate, not now.
“That takes all the fun out of it.” She scoops up an oversized bite and shoves it into her mouth.
“Let's save the fancy place for when I actually graduate.” I return my focus to the ice cream, wanting to get at least a few bites in before she finishes it all.
“Fine,” she says in defeat, her eyes glued onto the dessert. “But I wanted it to be special. I'll bring Jason along, and you should bring your own date.”
So that's what this is really about. Sneaky little thing. “I'm guessing you want me to invite Parker.”
“Him or whoever.” She looks up at me, pretending to play innocent.
“I'll invite him, but that doesn't mean he'll come.” He won't co
me. I already know it. There's no point in even asking.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“What's your biggest fantasy?” It's a strange thing for him to ask after he shot his load inside of me. The sex is over. He should have asked before we began.
“My biggest fantasy,” I repeat absentmindedly, thinking while my body pulses out the remnants of my own climax.
“Yes, what thoughts do you get off to when you touch yourself at night, besides me claiming this?” He pulls out of me and gives my too-sensitive pussy a gentle slap, causing me to clamp my legs together.
“How do you even know I think about you at night?” I tense, propping myself up on my elbows to watch him pull the condom off.
“I know you think about me.” There's no question in his tone. He's so sickeningly confident. But he has every right to be. I do think about him a lot when I masturbate, but not all the time.
Sharing my fantasies with him is almost embarrassing. Every woman imagines experiencing things she'd never actually do or enjoy. In the playground of the mind, everything feels good. All the time. “What do you fantasize about?”
“I've experienced most of my fantasies.” He returns to me and leans against the wall, prompting me to crawl into his arms and get comfy.
“Of course you have.” The images of threesomes and God knows what else he's done plays through my mind like an unpleasant montage of jealousy.
“I want to know what you fantasize about.” He pokes my shoulder to bring me back into the conversation. It must have been obvious that I was starting to drift.
“What if I don't want to tell?” I draw my legs up to my chest protectively.
“It's not like what you say is going to leave this room.”
“Still. Some things should be kept private.”
“Why? Do you like something freaky like tentacle porn or having a stallion and a bull tag-team you?” I can hear the smirk in his voice.
“Ew, gross.” I slap at his chest. “What's wrong with you?”