by Bethany-Kris
“They make me sleepy.”
“Maybe you need to sleep more, child.”
Maybe.
Or maybe she needed to finally call it quits with this life of hers. Stop chasing the next thrill. Find her peace in something else other than being a thief. Relax into stability. Something she felt was never really tangible to someone like her.
“Definitely sleep more,” the woman said. “Sleep is—like laughter or sex—one of nature’s best medicines for us humans.”
Who was Cozen to argue?
“I will place hotter rocks on your pressure points, and down your spine. We will let them set for a half an hour—at least until they cool. I’ll add a bit more oil to the diffuser as well. Do you want some sounds while you wait?”
“Rain,” Cozen murmured.
“Rain is a good choice.”
She loved the sound of soft rain pelting down to the ground, on windows, or even a roof. Hours and hours of rain when she was tucked away and warm could take away any stress Cozen might have been feeling.
“Do you want it on—”
A knock on the private room interrupted the woman from finishing her question. Cozen frowned because she wanted to get on with her massage, and the best part of it was still yet to come. Not to mention, there should be a sign on the door requesting quiet and privacy as all massage rooms had.
“Sorry, just give me a minute,” the woman said. “We usually don’t have our sessions interrupted, so it must be important.”
“No problem.”
Footsteps echoed as the woman approached the door when the knock echoed a second time—more persistently. She heard the creak of the door as it opened, and then the sound of it closing. Cozen suspected the woman stepped outside to chat because she couldn’t even hear murmurings.
Despite being interrupted, Cozen was still pretty relaxed at the moment. So much so, that when she closed her eyes, she was sure that she fell asleep for a spell. Or as close to sleep as she could get. Long enough, anyway, that she jerked a bit when the sound of the door opening made her eyes fly wide again.
Cozen didn’t bother to lift her head to check who it was that had come back into the room. She assumed it was the same woman who just left—the masseuse for her hot rock massage. The footsteps coming across the room weren’t particularly lighter or heavier, but the woman didn’t speak as she came closer to Cozen.
Rocks moved against steel.
The boiling pot, she knew.
The first smooth, circular rock to touch Cozen’s lower spine almost made her hiss from the heat coming in contact with her flesh. It was hot—almost too hot, really. Still, the cool temperature of her skin helped to soothe the initial sting, and quickly, it felt like the rock was sinking deliciously into her spine.
Pushing into the stress.
Cutting through it.
Sucking toxins away.
Absorbing bad energy.
Taking it all away.
The next rock was placed slightly higher on her spine. And then again, and again until she had several rocks—all of varying sizes and weights—up her spine. The next rocks were placed on her shoulders, although they were far larger and heavier than the ones on her spine.
A beat of time passed, as though the woman was letting those rocks settle into Cozen’s skin and muscles before she moved onto the next phase. Two smaller rocks were then placed at the dimples on her lower back. Two larger ones were placed against the spot known to be where kidney pain often presented the strongest.
It was sometimes believed that rocks were like magnets. And when presented with heat, rocks could absorb many things from the human body. From stress, to illness, and otherwise. Cozen wasn’t sure if she particularly believed any of that, but it certainly felt good enough for her to ask for one more rock on the back of her neck. A spot that had been particularly hard lately—like a knot had formed in the muscle.
“Right here,” she said, lifting a hand and pointing at the spot. “Please.”
A soft hum—one most definitely not belonging to a woman—answered Cozen’s request before a rock came to rest on the back of her neck. Panic shot through her, as did the swell of rage when it quickly followed right behind.
Her first thought was to roll over and put the knife she had hidden under her stomach to the asshole’s throat for coming in on her like this. It was the light touch of a single hand pressing to the back of her thigh, and his fingers digging into her skin that stopped her.
She knew it was him before he spoke.
She knew it by his touch.
Only his touch.
Sargon bent down near her head, and murmured in her ear, “I just paid that woman a lot of cash to get in this room to see you privately, not to mention, I lied a bit to assure her you would not be angry with me for surprising you. She thinks I am your husband.”
The admission passing his lips made her gasp.
He laughed darkly. “So be a good girl, huh? Do not get the cops called on me by screaming or some other nonsense.”
“Jesus, you couldn’t let me know when you first came in? That’s a dangerous thing to do, you know. Sneaking up on me, I mean. It’s a good way to get yourself killed.”
Sargon’s chuckles rocked her to the core. Like darts of delicious heat sliding through her veins, and shooting right down to her pussy. A day to recharge, and the attempt to set her mind back on the plan at hand was not going to help Cozen very much with how Sargon made her feel. It was not going to help her traitorous body.
Not at all.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked.
“What do you want?”
“At the moment, to look at you.”
His words wrapped around her like a silky caress as he stood. A lot like the tip of his fingertip sliding down her spine alongside the rocks. Cozen felt the goosebumps bloom along her flesh in the wake of his touch. The sensation raced after his touch everywhere he went, and more so where he lingered. It could kill her from the need—she swore it was true.
It would be a beautiful way to die, though.
“Quite a sight you are, Cozen. One of the most beautiful.”
She swallowed hard. “Should I thank you, or …?”
“Not necessary. Beautiful things should be admired. They do not, however, need to be gracious because they are beautiful. You owe nothing to anyone who notices your beauty. You neither need to thank someone for it, nor apologize for it.”
He finished his statement by dragging his hands up the backs of her thighs. Cozen instantly sucked in a sharp breath when his fingertips edged beneath the sheet covering her backside. His fingers edged a little bit higher until they stroked the smooth skin where her thighs melded into the curve of her ass.
“May I touch you?” he asked.
Cozen wet her lips, and kept her gaze locked on the rug beneath the massage table. It was the first time he had asked for something from her. Mostly, in their sexual encounters, Sargon had simply took and took.
Not that she minded.
Oh, she loved it.
Still, it made her heart skip a beat, and her breath catch in her throat. She should have said no. She should have put a stop to this little cat and mouse game between them once and for all. It was her chance to finally put a barrier up, and draw the line.
She needed to get back to the job.
Still, she whispered, “Yes, you may touch me.”
Because apparently she had no self-control whatsoever. And honestly, it only took a few deep presses of Sargon’s talented, long fingers into the cheeks of her ass to remind her exactly why that was. The rock massage had nothing on the way his hands kneaded her muscles—deep, firm, and perfectly poised at just the right spots.
Cozen damn near closed her eyes at the feeling. She didn’t, though, not when those hands of his slid down over her ass, and in between her thighs. His deft fingers slipped between her legs, and found her pussy without any hesitation. He glided his fingertip through her folds, stroked her awake
, and then moved his position again.
Tight, quick circles roved over her clit again and again. A relentless, yet still sure pace that had her legs shaking, and her muscles tensing.
“Won’t you come for me?” he asked.
“This was not supposed to be a happy ending massage, Sargon.”
Sargon bent down to talk in her ear again. “Good thing. Do you know how irritated I was when I had to watch you walk in here knowing there were men who might touch you?”
Cozen’s throat tightened. “It was a woman.”
“But it might not have been.”
“But it was.”
His fingertips pressed harder against her clit, and then he gave the little nub a quick pinch before he went right back to massaging again. The jolt of pain mixed in heavily with Cozen’s pleasure before it was gone again just as fast. He moved down from her clit to stuff two fingers deep into her pussy. Those knowing digits curved in just the right way, and he began to massage her G-spot with insistent strokes.
“Oh, my God,” she whined.
“Lucky it was a woman,” he told her. “Still, I had to come in and check.”
“I bet.”
“Come so I can taste you this morning.”
Jesus.
“That’s what you want to taste in the morning?”
Sargon chuckled, and she swore she could see his sinful smirk in her mind when he murmured, “Every morning, if you would let me.”
Cozen came then.
Maybe it was his words.
Maybe the unspoken promise.
Maybe his fingers still working her crazy.
Who knew?
But it was glorious.
Sargon pulled his fingers from between her thighs before he quickly removed the rocks from Cozen’s body. Once she was cleared of the rocks, she sat up straight on the table, and found him waiting for her with hard eyes.
She didn’t like that.
Not after what he just did.
Still, he was close enough to her that she could reach out and touch him. So, she did just that. She fingered the gold band hanging from the thin cord of black leather around his neck for a moment, reveling in the silence instead of her crazy thoughts.
Sargon didn’t seem to mind, as he didn’t ask her to remove her hand. If anything, for the briefest second, his gaze softened at her touch. Finally, his hand did come up and cup around hers when she slid the tip of her index finger into the ring.
He sighed, and tugged her hand away from the leather cord. “Time to get back to reality, then.”
“What?” she asked.
“Jett would like to see you today. Dinner, and maybe something else afterward. A trip to his mansion, if you would like.”
Cozen’s gaze locked with Sargon’s, and didn’t move even an inch. “Would he?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose he must have known this was my only day off for the weekend since he has my schedule.”
“Yes,” Sargon repeated.
“Could you give me something more than one-word answers after you just had your fingers shoved up my cunt?”
Sargon’s expression didn’t change, and neither did the coldness in his eyes. How fast their moment had gone from something sweet to something entirely different was shocking to her. To say the least.
“Well, can you?”
“Not particularly,” he murmured.
“I’m not dressed. And my makeup and hair isn’t—”
“It will be taken care of,” Sargon interjected. “He heard from a little bird that you were here today getting pampered, and thought he might add onto it with some of his own tricks. He would like you to stop by your place and grab the necklace he gave to you. Apparently, it will match something he had picked out for you.”
“Which necklace?”
“Pardon?”
“The one with the gold bars, or the sapphire piece?”
“Sapphires.”
“Oh, well …”
“Yes.”
Sargon stepped away from the table, and moved for the door. He just opened it up when he looked over his shoulder at her. Finally, that expression of his broke as his lips curved wickedly at the edges, and he lifted his two fingers to his mouth for a taste.
His digits disappeared between those lips of his, and his grin deepened even more as his eyebrow raised.
He had gotten that taste, after all.
Christ.
Every muscle in her body clenched—from her fingers clutching into the sheet at her waist, to her pussy—at the sight.
He was everything that was bad, sinful, and wonderful wrapped up in a gorgeous face, one hell of a body, and a mind so deep and enigmatic Cozen didn’t know where to begin.
Who was playing games now?
Sargon took a place against the wall as Cozen made her way inside the hotel room. Instantly, she was greeted by several people. People who were there to either pamper her, or serve her in some way.
That’s what Jett hired them for. He loved to spoil his women, apparently.
Sargon wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Cozen getting lumped into the category as one of Jett’s women—how many there were, Sargon was unsure—but here he was. And there she was, too.
Looking entirely out of place, sure, but there she was.
“Miss Taylor, it’s great to finally meet you!” the bubbly blonde said, stepping forward from the others. “I brought you a few things to look over, but I think—now that I finally have eyes on you—the navy blue piece will be the best.”
Cozen blinked.
Sargon chuckled.
“Of course, you can look over everything. It’s your choice in the end.”
Cozen glanced his way, and Sargon offered her a smile. “Start with hello, hmm?”
She turned back to the people, still looking like she didn’t know what was happening, or if she was entirely comfortable with it. Sargon knew that feeling all too well.
“Um, hello,” Cozen said.
She waved an awkward hand.
Sargon almost smiled.
He didn’t think he had ever seen her look so off-kilter than she did in that moment. Clearly, this was not what she had been expecting to be waiting for her inside the hotel room. He had to wonder if she was the type to let people fawn over her.
A massage was one thing.
This was different.
“They are here to serve at your pleasure,” Sargon said when Cozen glanced his way. “Whatever you need or might want to make you feel wonderful, and get you ready for the evening. Should you need something, let one of them know.”
Cozen looked back at the waiting people.
The bubbly blonde personal shopper who had spent the day in the city finding her the perfect dress for the evening. A woman to manage Cozen’s russet waves into something pretty—not that he thought she didn’t look wonderful with her hair loose and free. Another woman to make her face up, and someone else to let her look through jewelry that might match the sapphire necklace.
Quickly, she glanced back at him, asking, “And where will you be?”
“Right outside the door.”
Trying not to think about tonight.
His mind was being a bitch today.
Nothing new.
It started the moment he knew she was going in a spa to get a massage. The idea of someone else touching her had felt like an icepick sticking inside his brain. He had told her the idea of a man touching her bothered him, but it hadn’t really mattered.
Man.
Woman.
It all made him want to choke someone to fucking death, really. No one needed to be touching her but him. Not a masseuse, not the guy making her coffee in the mornings, and definitely not Jett Griffin.
Fuck.
Yeah, that’s what Sargon was: fucked.
Cozen hugged the black velvet case belonging to the sapphire necklace to her chest. “And then what’s going to happen?”
“Dinner at a very upscale place
. More so than The Kingdom. It’s why you need a proper outfit for it. Dress and black tie all the way.”
“After that?”
“I believe Jett is having a drink with a few friends at the mansion.”
“Oh,” Cozen said.
“He intends to bring you along.”
Cozen did perk up at that statement. “Does he?”
“As far as I know.”
Which was the biggest reason for Sargon’s discomfort. He did not know what would happen once the dinner date was over, and Cozen was led into the mansion. Once those doors were closed, she would be entirely out of his sight, and his reach.
He suspected Cozen could probably handle herself, if she needed to. Not to mention, he had not seen Jett act anything less than gentlemanly with a woman. Jett didn’t seem like the type to get his rocks off by hurting females.
That wasn’t the point, though.
The point was … fucked.
Sargon was tangled up with a woman he had no business entangling with. A woman who had some kind of secrets she was hiding, and likely a plan in the works, too. A woman whom his boss was courting, and he was fucking.
Nothing about this felt good or right.
It was all bad.
Sargon still hadn’t found a reason to stop. Or even a reason to stay away from Cozen. It didn’t help that Jett continued to put him in her path when all he wanted to do was have Jett’s back during the day, and otherwise.
No …
That was a lie.
It was not all Sargon wanted to do.
Not now.
Not after Cozen.
He wasn’t very loyal to Jett at all.
Frankly, he never had been.
“Enjoy yourself,” Sargon said as he moved for the door. And just before he closed it, he added, “Do let me know if you need anything, Cozen.”
“Anything?” she asked quietly.
Despite all the people around looking at them, he confirmed what he said. “Anything, sweetheart.”
The sad thing was?
He did mean anything.
This woman was going to kill him.
It was another three hours—long enough for the sun to settle and darken the sky—before Sargon found himself on the next stop of the evening.
Or rather, delivering Cozen to her next stop. Of course, she got to take a limo. He had to take his town car, and arrive before her at the restaurant.