by Lucy Gage
The phone rang four times before I heard, “Hello?”
Not Reid’s voice. Kelsey’s.
“Why do you have Reid’s phone?” I demanded.
“Good morning to you, too. He’s in the shower. I answered because it was beside the bed,” she replied, smugness in her voice.
“Bullshit. You’re lying.”
“Why don’t you come to his room and find out?”
“How about instead, you give him the phone, and then you get the hell out of my house before I return?”
“You’re not here?”
“Would I be calling if I was? Wouldn’t I just walk up to his room? Now, give him the damn phone and go.”
“Why should I listen to you?”
“Because I told you before, you don’t scare me. Whatever crap you think you’re pulling with Reid, I don’t buy it. He told me about your little lie.”
Kelsey gasped. “It’s not a lie. He’s the father of my child.”
The insincerity in her voice had long been evident to me. “Sell your story to someone who’ll believe it. Better yet, don’t bother. Find the real baby daddy and get a life. Stop trying to interfere in mine and Reid’s.”
“You’re not a couple. If you were together, you’d have been at his birthday party last night. You weren’t. I know, because I was.”
“And when I tell him why, he’ll understand. My best friend had her baby last night.”
As if to herself, she said, “She actually went into labor? I thought she was faking it.”
This time, it was my turn to express shock. “It was you?”
“I didn’t mean to send her into labor.”
“Get OUT! Vacate the premises and don’t let me ever see you there again. Stay away from me. And for that matter, stay away from Reid. Not that you ever deserved him, but you sure as hell don’t now. And give him the damn phone.”
She sniffed. “Fine. But you can’t talk to him. He’s…gone.”
“Stop lying!”
“I’m not! He left his phone here last night, apparently. When I woke, he was gone, but his phone was here.”
“Leave the phone, and then take your ass anywhere but my house. Never show your face again. If I see it within a hundred yards of my property, I will have you arrested for trespassing. You’re done bullying Stef and me. And if I ever hear that you’re bothering anyone else, you will feel my wrath.”
I clicked end and didn’t wait for her response. Resisting the urge to throw the phone across the parking lot took energy I didn’t have. Swiping my hand down my face, I headed back inside. It was time to say goodbye to Anna, Luis, and Gabby. I needed to head back to Peyton’s Place and take care of some business.
But first, I needed a run and a shower. That fixed almost everything, at least in the short-term. And then I’d find a solution to the problem I’d caused with Reid.
Lucy Gage started her writing career under another name, but the same vivid imagination and love of books still fuel her daily life. When she's not writing, you can find her spending time with her family in her home state of Maine, experiencing a life that helps shape her work.
Catch more of Fin and Reid in the final story in this trio, Ours, coming fall 2018.
Facebook Author Page: Author Lucy Gage
Twitter: @LucyGageAuthor
Instagram: @aut@jcahanniganhorlucygage
Spotify: http://bit.ly/LucyGage-Spotify
Pinterest: @lucygageauthor
Google+: http://bit.ly/LucyGage-GPlus
Amazon Author Page: http://bit.ly/LucyGage-Amazon
Book +Main: http://bit.ly/LucyGage-Bites
BookBub: http://bit.ly/LucyGage-BookBub
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/LucyGage-Goodreads
Here’s To You, Mrs. Robertson
Copyright © 2018 by Jessica Ingro
All rights reserved.
www.jessicaingro.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The sound of my heels on the stone pavers served as a constant reminder that I should turn around and go home.
Not smart.
Not smart.
Not smart.
Smoothing my shoulder-length blonde hair down, I chose to ignore the voice in my head that resounded with each click.
“Welcome to A Golden Touch Spa,” the Polynesian woman called out as I neared the reception desk. Not sure what I was expecting, her kind smile and warm eyes had me wondering if I was in the right place.
“Thank you.” I smiled in return and fought the urge to smooth my hair again. It was a nervous habit I could never seem to kick.
“Do you have an appointment?” She turned towards a computer, her fingers poised to type.
I cleared my throat and semi-whispered, “I have a three o’clock. It’s under Rebecca Hayes.”
It felt like forever as her fingers flew over the keyboard—a click here, a clack there. I felt myself overheating and I feared I’d start perspiring in the most unladylike places. Surely it wasn’t a crime to use my maiden name, but yet the longer it took her, the harder it was to not smooth my damn hair.
“Yes, Ms. Hayes. I have you right here. Your masseuse today is Dylan and I see you booked the full service package. Good choice.” To her credit, other than the twinkle in her eye, she didn’t comment on my choice of masseuse or package.
If I was smart, I would have turned around and walked right out of there before indulging in my mid-life crisis. As it was, I was so going to kill my best friend Suzie for convincing me to do it—insisting I drive over an hour into the mountains to loosen up.
Apparently, smart I was not.
“Marguerite will show you to your room.” She gestured to another woman who stood at the mouth of a hallway to the right of the check-in desk. She was young with flawless skin, her smile radiating bubbliness.
“Thank you,” I told the receptionist before joining Marguerite.
“Hello,” the girl greeted me with wide grin. “Right this way.”
She turned on her heel and padded down the hall into an open lounge with brown leather furniture, wooden accents and a waterfall.
“There’s a sauna through there,” she gestured to a stone archway at the back of the room. “It’s complimentary so feel free to use it once your massage is done.”
“Great,” I murmured as she crossed the room to another hallway.
“These are our rooms. You’ll be afforded complete privacy while you’re here,” she assured me.
Stopping at the third door on the left, she swung it open before stepping inside.
“Is this your first time?” She turned and asked me.
“Yes,” I croaked out around a suddenly very dry throat.
“Undress and lay face down on the table. If you need the restroom, it’s through the door to your left.”
“Um… do I… um… cover myself up?” I hadn’t stuttered since I was a young girl, yet here I was a forty-five year old woman doing just that.
Marguerite gave me a knowing smile. “There’s no need to be nervous. Trust me when I say, Dylan will take very good care of you.”
“Have you?” I couldn’t help but ask her.
“Oh yes. Several times actually. So worth it. Go ahead and get undressed. He’ll be in soon.” She winked and hustled out of the room.
With a deep breath, I began unbuttoning my blouse. My fingers shook and my heartbeat picked up speed, making it feel like a monumental task.
“Final
ly,” I whispered when I got the shirt open.
Laying the fabric on the chair in the corner, I quickly took off my dress slacks and placed them on top of my blouse.
Standing in the room in nothing but a black see-through bra and matching thong, I decided I had most definitely lost my mind. It was all my husband—ex-husband—and his young girlfriend’s fault. That and the fact my twenty-four year old son was getting married in just two short days.
I hadn’t lost it when I caught my husband cheating on me in our own bed after twenty-three years of marriage. I hadn’t even lost it when he declared he was leaving me for one of the nurses from the hospital he worked at. And when my son announced six months later that he was getting married to his college sweetheart, I may have felt older than dirt, but I still didn’t lose it. Yet now that we were on the cusp of his wedding, I cracked. Completely and utterly, hopelessly cracked.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
I bent over to grab my pants, but stopped when my fingers grazed the fabric.
You should totally do this, Suzie’s voice echoed in my head, giving me a shot of resolve.
Before I could change my mind again, I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. Letting it fall to the chair, I shimmied my thong down over my hips.
Nude, I ran to the table and quickly covered with the white sheet, afraid I was taking too long and that Dylan would try coming in before I was ready.
“I can’t do this,” I announced a few seconds later and was about to get up when there was a brief knock right before the door opened. Nerves kicking in, I couldn’t help but smooth down my hair as I buried my head in the face rest on the table.
“Hello,” the deep gravelly voice sent goosebumps across my skin.
“Hi,” I whispered. My voice unable to come any higher.
He didn’t say anything else as he readied himself. Body tense, I listened to drawers opening and closing, a glass bottle hitting the countertop, his jeans as his feet shuffled toward the table.
Through the hole in the face rest, I saw those feet as he stopped in front of the table—they were bare and masculine and the sexiest feet I had ever seen.
His hands touched my upper back and I just about jumped out of my skin.
How embarrassing.
He bent over and his ear brushed the outer shell of my ear, making me practically shudder. “Relax.”
“Sorry,” I apologized.
Without another word, his hands slowly made their trek down my upper back on either side of my spine before tracing the same path back up. After a few more times, he began kneading the muscles around my neck and my shoulders. The warm oil made my skin tingle and I sighed as I finally felt myself loosen up.
“That’s it,” he praised softly.
A moan left my mouth when his fingers hit a knot and worked to loosen it. His hands were so strong and his caresses so skillful, I couldn’t help but allow myself to slip into tranquility.
“You have gorgeous porcelain skin. So flawless.”
I cleared my throat and said, “Thank you.”
“I can’t wait to see how much prettier it gets once it’s flushed with arousal.”
My heart stopped and I felt that flush creeping up over my face and spreading out across my body.
“Do you like my hands on you, Rebecca?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Good.” His right hand coasted down my back, his body shifting so he was next to the table before his hand continued down and over my ass. “Are you relaxed?”
I nodded as much as the face rest allowed, unable to speak as his hand continued its journey down my leg and then back up. With each sweep of his hand, I was feeling less and less calm, that was for sure.
Momentarily stopping his movements, Dylan adjusted the sheet so that my whole left side was exposed to him. Instead of tucking it in like masseuses generally did, he left it loose.
At that point, I struggled to swallow. My throat was so dry it felt raw. Anticipation was thrumming through my veins at a rapid pace.
Dylan said no more—choosing to let his hands speak for him instead. And oh, the things they said.
Teasing me, he applied pressure as he massaged up and down my leg. Each time his hand would run up my inner thigh, his fingertips would barely graze my shaved pussy.
Good lord, how can such a brief touch send so much electricity through my body?
The first time he did it, my thighs instinctively widened to allow him access. Rather than take me up on my offer, he continued his sensual assault, moving his way down to my foot.
I arched off the table as his thumb ran up the middle of my foot. I had no idea the foot could be such an erogenous zone, but I was grateful he did.
Returning my foot to the table, his right hand slid from my ankle over my calf, up my inner thigh and straight to the bundle of nerves that had been screaming for him since he began touching me.
I cried out at the first touch, not even caring that someone might hear me.
“That’s it,” he coaxed while his finger thoroughly explored my folds and stroked my clit.
In no time flat, I was hovering on the edge of release. I fought it like hell though because it had been so damn long since a man touched me—longer than the time I had been divorced, that’s for sure—and I wanted to savor each moment of it.
Just as I was about to give into the sensations coursing through my body, his hand retreated and I let out a frustrated groan.
Dylan chuckled.
“Not fair,” I pouted.
“Good things come to those who wait,” he told me.
“Clever.”
That’s when I felt his lips skirting over the skin of my back right before his teeth nipped the skin of my left ass cheek.
“Oh God,” I said breathlessly.
“Nope. It’s all me,” was his cocky response.
I loved cocky men. Especially when they were doing such wonderful things to my body. Like Dylan was then. Now on my right side, he slowly worked to bring my body back to a place where I felt strung out and desperate for more of his touch.
When his hand slipped between my legs, rather than focusing on my clit, his finger slipped inside me.
I cried out loudly at the wonderful invasion.
When his finger retreated only to come back inside, I thought I might die with how amazing it felt. There really was something to be said when it was someone else doing the touching, and not yourself.
“Shit, you’re so tight,” his voice dipped low and became grittier. “I wonder how you’d feel wrapped snug around my cock.”
I moaned even louder, his dirty words propelling me to the edge once again.
“I’m so hard for you, Rebecca. The dip of your lower back, the curve of your hip, and this damn dimple on your ass make me want to hike you up on your hands and knees and drive myself into you.”
I shuddered at the image that painted in my mind. He drove two fingers inside me and my inner muscles clenched around them. My orgasm hit me like a tidal wave of deliciousness.
When was the last time I came without having to do the work myself, I thought as I reluctantly came down from the high.
“The sounds you make when you come are sexy as fuck, Rebecca.” Dylan’s mouth was at my ear, his tongue flicking the lobe, and his fingers gently petting me.
“I don’t know what is about you, but my body is drawn to you. I want to make you come again,” he whispered and my body immediately responded to the thought.
“Okay,” my voice trembled slightly.
“I want to see your face this time.”
“Okay,” I repeated.
“I’m going to lift the sheet and I want you to roll over,” he instructed.
I was so far gone with need that I didn’t think about the implications of revealing myself to him. Suzie had stressed to me that I needn’t worry about Dylan recognizing me out and about because he would never actually
see my face. She had been here a dozen times and still had no idea who the man behind the hands was.
I rolled over and expected him to cover my body again. Instead I saw the sheet slip from his hands when his shocked eyes traveled up my body to meet mine.
“Mrs. Robertson?”
“William?”
Holy shit, my son’s best friend just had his fingers in my pussy.
My brain attempted to make sense of that at the same time I realized his hungry gaze was taking in every inch of my body.
I crossed my legs and used my hands to cover my breasts.
Dylan scrubbed his hands down over his face and my gaze drifted down to where his rather impressive hard-on strained the fly of his jeans.
“I can’t believe this,” I whispered. My mind flashed with images of freeing him and taking him in my mouth. He’d be so long and hard…
“Fuck, you’re hot, Mrs. Robertson.”
“And you’re young enough to be my son!”
I jumped up from the table and snatched the sheet from the floor, using it to cover my body.
“Well sure, but what does that matter?” He reasoned.
“It matters because you’re my son’s best friend. That,” I pointed to the table, “should never have happened. And stop calling me Mrs. Robertson.”
“Sorry. Habit.”
“God, I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I think we should make the most of the situation.”
“Excuse me?” I sputtered in indignation as my gaze took in his gorgeous green eyes and his disheveled brown hair. They continued their exploration down his chiseled chest and stomach, visible in his tight polo shirt, and ended at the still rather hard erection in his jeans.
God, he’s so good looking and utterly fuckable.
“Look, you were phenomenal on the table. So fucking responsive to my touch. I’ve never wanted to fuck a client the way I wanted to fuck you just now. Shit, I was ready to lick the shit of your pussy just now.”