Rescued by the Woodsman

by Parker, M. S.

His hands sliding up and down my body, between my thighs, or cupping my breasts...his fingers...

  I gasped when I felt the brush of my own fingers against my clitoris, not aware until that moment that I'd been stroking myself. Biting my lip, I moved my legs until they were farther apart and shifted in the chair a bit. The skirt I wore fell open around me. I trailed my free hand up over the thigh high, thick woolen socks I'd pulled on under the skirt I'd put on earlier.

  It's all about gauging her reaction...following the cues her body gives you, he'd written in the email. When you touch her thigh, does she sigh or shiver?

  Smoothing my fingers up my skin, I decided if he'd been the one doing this, I'd probably be sighing and shivering.

  Does she need a bit more time to warm up? Tease her a bit. Touch her through her clothes, but it's just to tease and you keep the touches light.

  I brushed my fingers against my clitoris again, the nub of flesh hard and stiff. I was wet already, and I rubbed harder, enjoying the friction of the material against me.

  A smart man knows when she's ready for more. I like to think I'm a smart man.

  I dipped my fingers inside my panties and gasped at the heat I discovered there.

  When she's ready, a woman will all but bring herself to that first climax if you're not careful – and sometimes, that's just fine. I don't mind going along and enjoying the ride.

  I thrust my fingers in, panting. In, out. I'd never ever felt this wet, this aroused. The chair wobbled under me and some latent sense of self-preservation had me lowering my feet to the floor. That change in position thrust my fingers deeper, and I cried out. Flinging a hand against the desk for leverage, I started to rock against my touch, riding my own hand now.

  Once she's close, I'll sometimes pull her back and draw out the pleasure.

  Fuck that idea.

  I'd never felt a climax quite like this.

  I broke, right there in my chair, in front of my computer. Climaxing so hard it ripped a cry from my throat, I sagged bonelessly forward, my head dropping onto the keyboard as my body started to shut down on me.

  Multiple orgasms are all about the timing, you know.

  Hell. All I'd done was think about him, and this one had all but wiped me out. I wasn't sure I could handle the timing, and the thought of multiples almost melted my brain.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, reenergized by a shower, a sandwich, and coffee, I settled back down at my desk. Somewhat bemused by what I'd done, I brought up his email and read it again.

  It wouldn't happen again, surely. Reading through it wouldn't cause that same erotic buzz that I'd been feeling all week, ever since I met him, compounded and complicated by his written words. It had just been a while since I'd broken out my vibrator. A couple of months, probably. I'd just been on edge, and I'd needed the release.

  But the second I started reading and thinking about Jake, the hotter and heavier my body felt.

  Sometimes, a lady I'm with will be done after just one session. But sometimes, she'll need more. I'm always happy to oblige. I just watch her and see what her body is telling me.

  If he was here right now, my body would be screaming...do me!

  Of course, five seconds after he made a move toward me, it might scream something else entirely.

  "Son of a bitch," I muttered, closing the email, and scrolling up to catch up on messages from last night and this morning.

  There were three from Aunt Blair, two last night and one from this morning. The last from twenty-five minutes ago. Call me or I'm calling you.

  Blushing, I thought about what I'd been doing twenty-five minutes ago, and I wondered if she would have guessed just what I'd been up to by the sound of my voice.

  With a nervous laugh, I picked up my coffee. "I'll call in a few, Aunt Blair," I murmured, toasting the picture of the two of us near one of the bridges in Central Park. "Just let me get a little more–"

  The phone rang mid-sentence, and I had no doubt as to who was calling. Well, shit. With a mental groan, I picked up the phone.

  "Good morning, sunshine!" Aunt Blair said, her voice ringing out. She sounded like she'd been awake for hours and already downed about a gallon of coffee. She probably had been awake for hours, but she didn't drink coffee. I didn't understand her. "How are you doing, sweetheart?"

  "I'm fine. You sound too awake for me," I said, hoping she'd attribute any sluggish moments to me being tired or...something.

  "You don't rest enough, eat right or exercise enough. Do all those things and call me in the morning."

  "Ha, ha."

  "You also don't get laid enough," Aunt Blair continued blithely. "What you need is to hook up with some guy who will eff your brains out once or twice a week."

  I could have choked on the coffee I'd just taken a sip of. "Thanks," I said after a few awkward seconds. "I'll keep that in mind."

  "Do that. So...listen. I've got news." Tension hummed between us before she continued. "The powers that be loved your article. It's running in the next issue and...they want more."

  Excitement exploded inside me. More? They liked it? Would I write them? Would I be able to see Jake again?

  A million questions started to fire inside my head.

  But she squashed them flat in the next second.

  "Gina's recovering pretty well. She can sit up in a chair for longer periods of time, and she's already at work editing some of her other pieces. We think she'll be able to handle the series the higher-ups want, but thank you for doing such a bang-up job, sweetheart. We will definitely be using you for more pieces."

  Disappointment had turned the excitement to ashes, and I had to fight to make my voice brisk and professional as I responded, "I'm very glad you all enjoyed it, Aunt Blair. Please give my best to Gina. I've got to go. I've got lunch cooking and it's about to burn."

  I hung up before she could say anything else.

  I couldn't fake the brisk tone for more than a few seconds, and I didn't want her to hear my dismay.

  Granted, I couldn't even lie to her properly. Was I more upset about the fact that I wasn't finishing the series? Or the fact that I wouldn't have a reason to see Jake again?

  I had no idea.

  5

  Jake

  The latest issue of Coterie lay open on the basic wooden coffee table in the middle of my living room, turned to the first page of the interview.

  Michelle was one hell of a writer.

  Those were my words she'd taken and used, but she had made them her own. I knew all about what she'd written, because I'd told it to her.

  So why the hell did I still have a fucking hard-on ten minutes after reading it?

  Maybe it was because something about her words had made me think that when she'd been writing it, she had been as filled with erotic anticipation as I was now.

  Most of my clients were jaded about sex, even the ones who ended up with me because they'd lost interest in the act and expected me to change that.

  A few of them, like Alicia, had healthy sexual appetites, and for one reason or another, it was just easier to have an arrangement with me rather than pursue some other, normal relationship with a regular, average nice guy.

  Normal.

  Nice.

  Maybe that was the problem.

  Michelle seemed like she was just the girl next door...normal, sweet, nice...she blushed when I pushed her about intimacy, but she pushed back if I went too hard.

  It was different from what I was used to and that was enough to drive me a little crazy. It was also enough to make me think about her too often during the day.

  Three times, I'd sat down to email her, the words I'd used already laid out in my mind.

  I'd ask if I'd proven to be helpful.

  If there was anything more she'd like to know.

  Maybe we could meet for coffee, and I could answer some of the questions I'd left open the first time we met.

  I knew how to catch a woman's interest, and Michelle's weakness wa
s her curiosity. But still, my fingers lingered over the keyboard, unsure.

  My cellphone rang, and when I checked the display, my heart skipped a beat. The caller ID read COT UNLTD.

  Coterie.

  Gina and I had spoken several times from a phone that belonged to the magazine. Maybe this was Michelle.

  Still, I didn't answer on the first, or even immediately on the second tone. Sure, I was desperate to hear her voice, but I didn't need to let her know that.

  "Hello?"

  "Heya, gorgeous," a familiar, sexy voice said.

  The voice was not Michelle's.

  "Gina. Hi. I heard you were in an accident," I said, trying not to let my disappointment show in my voice. It was second nature to hide that sort of thing though. Most of my life had been filled with disappointment.

  "I was. Tell you what, if it wasn't for sexy male nurses..." She ended with a lusty sigh that wasn't too different from how she sounded when she asked me if I really fucked women for a living. "They made the Nurse Ratchet I had to deal with at night a little more tolerable. But you don't want to hear about all of that. I wanted to talk to you about the article."

  "The one Michelle wrote."

  "Yes. She did fantastic. I was all but fanning myself when I was done, and since I've got one arm in a cast, my other hand was getting tired." She laughed impishly.

  I had to smile myself. Gina was cocky, confident, and incorrigible.

  I still wished it was Michelle on the phone.

  "We're lighting up with responses from our readers on social media, email boxes are full. They want more, Jake. They want more of you. The bosses here want a series of articles. What do you say?"

  My instinct was to correct her and say that they wanted more of Michelle. After all, it had been her way with my words that had written the article that had lit up social media and filled inboxes.

  But...

  "I might be interested," I said slowly, turning to look at the magazine.

  "Fantastic. What will make that might into a one hundred percent?"

  "I want Michelle to handle it."

  Gina was quiet, but only for a split second. It had been my estimation that very little slowed her or swayed her for long. I was right. It didn't take her long to say, "I'm totally cool with that. My editor and I came up with the idea, but Michelle handled the interview and her article is going over like gangbangers. But I can't make any promises. My editor has to give the final okay. Are you cool with that?"

  "Cool enough to wait and see what they say."

  Because if they didn't say yes, I wasn't doing it.

  "Excellent. You'll hear from me or Michelle soon." She hesitated, then added, "Jake?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Michelle...she's a nice girl." She didn't add anything else, but she didn't need to.

  "I noticed, Gina. Don't worry. I don't make a habit of eating nice girls alive and leaving nothing but a quivering, broken heart."

  I ended the call and pushed my phone back into my pocket, then went over and picked up the magazine, skimming the article one more time.

  It wasn't good, I told myself, that she was filling my head as much as she was, taking over my thoughts.

  I'd been honest with Gina when I said I didn't make a habit of messing around with nice girls. I didn't have time, and honestly, the kind of nice girls she meant when she talked about Michelle – nervous, shy, a little uncertain about her own sexuality – they didn't often come looking to pay a man for sex. Maybe they dreamed about it, thought about it...? I had no idea.

  But they steered clear of men like me.

  I tossed the magazine back down on the table, running my hands through my hair. I hadn't always been a whore.

  There had been a time when I probably qualified as nice and normal myself. Looking up, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the tattoos covering some older, rougher – uglier – work, studied the muscle that had been developed over months and years of a hard life. There was no sign of the nice, normal boy I must have been once upon a time.

  Maybe that was why I wanted to spend time with Michelle.

  She hadn't instantly gone from hi to let's go fuck.

  Although one thing was sure...let's go fuck was pretty high on my list of things to do.

  Continue reading in the full novel. Go to http://mybook.to/SexCoachPB to order the paperback.

  Also by M. S. Parker

  The Billionaire’s Muse

  Bound

  One Night Only

  Damage Control

  Take Me, Sir

  Make Me Yours

  The Billionaire’s Sub

  The Billionaire’s Mistress

  Con Man Box Set

  HERO Box Set

  A Legal Affair Box Set

  The Client

  Indecent Encounter

  Dom X Box Set

  Unlawful Attraction Box Set

  Chasing Perfection Box Set

  Blindfold Box Set

  Club Prive Box Set

  The Pleasure Series Box Set

  Exotic Desires Box Set

  Pure Lust Box Set

  Casual Encounter Box Set

  Sinful Desires Box Set

  Twisted Affair Box Set

  Serving HIM Box Set

  About the Author

  M. S. Parker is a USA Today Bestselling author and the author of over fifty spicy romance series and novels.

  Living part-time in Las Vegas, part-time on Maui, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop writing her next spicy romance.

  Growing up all she wanted to be was a dancer, actor and author. So far only the latter has come true but M. S. Parker hasn’t retired her dancing shoes just yet. She is still waiting for the call to appear on Dancing With The Stars.

  When M. S. isn't writing, she can usually be found reading– oops, scratch that! She is always writing.

  For more information:

  www.msparker.com

  msparkerbooks@gmail.com

  Facebook

  Twitter

  Acknowledgments

  First, I would like to thank all of my readers. Without you, my books would not exist. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.

  A big THANK YOU goes out to all the Facebook fans, street team, beta readers, and advanced reviewers. You are a HUGE part of the success of all my series.

  Also thank you to my editor Lynette and my wonderful cover designer, Sinisa. You make my ideas and writing look so good.