The Masseuse (10 page)

“O-of course, Mr. Stone. I’ll be back at three.”

As soon as he closed his door, Ramsey’s body pressed Jezebel into it and his lips devoured hers. She groaned and pushed at him slightly, needing space to undo his clothes.

“You missed your phal?” he asked against her lips. She groaned when he rocked his lower body into hers, giving her a taste of said “phal.”

“Yes.” She broke off to moan as he gyrated against her. “Missed him a great deal.”

“He’s impressed,” Ramsey murmured, pulling away from her slightly to slide her coat from her and tug her blouse over her head, leaving her in her frilly purple bra. His eyes drank in her breasts, and he licked his lips. “You had him this morning.”

“Not where I wanted him.”

Ramsey groaned, unzipped her skirt, and pushed the material to the floor. This morning, before they’d both left her place for work, she’d taken him into her mouth and sucked him dry. She’d been on her period the past few days and had been relieving him with her hands and mouth. Because he was so large, she’d barely managed to take half, she was probably giving herself too much credit, maybe a quarter, into her mouth before she was gagging. Still, he’d been in such ecstasy that she’d been proud of her handiwork. He’d left soon after, and as she’d replayed what she did to him while she sat behind her desk at work, Jezebel had gotten so turned on...

His lips caught hers again and she slid her hand against his cock, eager to have him inside of her. She undid his zipper quickly, and reached into it to free himself. When he was in her hand—hot, heavy, thick, and long—she purred.

He thrust against her hand. “Are you okay?”

She lifted a brow. “Are you asking if my period’s gone?”

He smirked and nodded.

She grinned. “All gone. Like magic.”

With a hoarse chuckle, he pulled her away from the door and then he released her. She looked to him curiously. Eyes glued to hers, he undid his belt buckle. “Bend over my desk.”

Excitement curled up her spine. She
loved
his desk. They’d done this a few times before and she’d always been satisfied. She did as told, bending over his mahogany desk and waiting.

When his hand caressed her stocking-clad ass, she moaned in anticipation. The first slap made her yelp in surprise. The second made her moan. The third was just...heaven. The fourth was light, a tease...just like him.

His hands slid into the waistband of her stockings and pulled them down to her thighs. Instead of removing her thong, he pushed it aside and then his finger was probing her channel.

“Ramsey!”

“Feels good?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Put it inside me.”

“It’s already inside you.”

“My phal—I want my phal inside me.”

“In
my
pussy?” He curled his finger forward. Ramsey had chosen not to name her sex because he liked using that term. Jezebel had to admit that hearing him talk to her like that was a turn-on.

She shuddered. “Yes.”

“You need permission to have my pussy fucked.”

Jezebel groaned. She loved this side of him, this side no one would imagine existed under all of that gentlemanly perfection. This side was gritty, dirty, raw, dangerous and oh-so-sexy. “Please...can you fuck your pussy?”

“Me?”

She blinked, wondering what she’d said wrong. Right. “Please...can my phal fuck your pussy?”

His finger slid from her body and she cried out briefly, but it was soon replaced by his cock. He dragged it across her slit. “You want this?”

“Yes! I need—uggh!” He went deep, before allowing her to adjust. It didn’t matter how many times he came into her; she needed to adjust to him.

“Fuck!” Ramsey moaned, pulling out slowly only to pump back in. “Missed my pussy.”

Jezebel nodded. Her period was a bitch.

Strong hands gripped her hips and he moved, pumping steadily into her as she urged him to go faster. He ignored her, kept his steady pace.

“Ramsey!” At her wits end, Jezebel reached back to grab his hips. “Faster!”

One hand slid into her hair and he pulled her head back, not tight enough to cause pain, but tight enough to let her know who was in control. Lips pressed to her shoulder, her neck, and then he was fucking her like she wanted, his hips slapping against hers, hard and fast.

“Like that?”

She tried to nod, but he had her hair. “Yes! Yes! Ohh, I’m coming!”

He stopped. She mewled. “Ramsey!”

“Did I say you could come?”

She grinned, despite wanting to choke him for stopping. “No.”

“You need my permission to come, don’t you, Jez?”

She nodded. Sometimes, she forgot. Ramsey was a total control freak in bed, and for some reason—probably because she knew how good it was between them—she was willing to submit to almost anything for him. It turned her on to give him the reins, and let him dominate her so.

He pulled out and released her hair. Confused, she turned to look at him, but soon fell onto the desk when his tongue stroked into her sex.

“Have I ever told you how good my pussy tastes?” he asked in a hoarse voice, slurping at her. When she didn’t answer, he slapped her ass hard.

“Uh-huh,” she managed, enjoying his rough tongue on her. “Yes...”

“Tastes like crème,” he murmured. “Sweet, delicious crème.” His lips settled on her clit and he sucked voraciously.

An orgasm built, she bit her lip and warned, “I’m going to come if you keep doing that!”

He moved away and his teeth grazed her ass before he once more plunged into her sex. His fingers slid beneath her and he began to circle her clit.

“Love fucking my pussy,” he grunted, ramming her hard.

She moaned. She had no words. It was too good.

He delivered a particularly hard jab and she cried out. “Love making you scream for me.”

She nodded. She was so close. So close. She needed to come.

“Are you close, Jez?”

“Yes...please.”

“Come for me, baby.” His finger stroked quickly, his thrusts were merciless. “Come now.”

She couldn’t stop if she tried.

Jezebel returned to herself to find him collapsed on top of her, his sex gradually shrinking as the warmth of him commingled with her own. He’d come. Two weeks ago, after getting blood tests done to make sure they were both clean, they’d stopped using condoms. She was now on birth control pills, which she didn’t mind considering he felt so much better without the condom barring her from feeling all of him.

“Are we still going to lunch?” she managed, wondering if she’d ever not feel like a stuffed turkey when he was inside her.

Ramsey chuckled. “Aren’t you starving after that?” He kissed her neck, groaning when he pulled from her body. Reaching over her, he grabbed a few Kleenex, and wiped her sex. She smiled. Ramsey was the only guy who’d done that for her. When she remained where she was, stockings rolled down and ass exposed, he chuckled and slapped one cheek. “Come on, Jez, I’m hungry.”

“You just ate me,” she responded cheekily.

Grabbing her arms, he lifted her to whisper in her ear, “And you were delicious.” As he moved away, she watched him pick up his belt, her skirt, her blouse, their haphazardly strewn clothes, and smiled. She was willing to admit that Ramsey Stone was her man, but she wasn’t quite certain how she felt about the amount of emotions she had for him. Jezebel wouldn’t say she was in love. It hadn’t been that long, and they started out as screw-buddies before allowing the relationship to blossom into something else, but she liked him a lot.

As she slid her clothes back on, Ramsey suddenly caught her chin. “What are you thinking about?”

She smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.”

Leaning forward, she kissed his lips. “I’m thinking about how much I’m going to eat after that workout you put me through.”

He grinned and pulled her into his arms. “You better eat for the workout I’m going to put you through tonight.”

She pretended to feign horror. The man was insatiable. Of all of the guys she’d been with, Ramsey was just...better. “I don’t know if she can take it.”

“Who?”

“My—” She broke off when he lifted a brow. Kissing his lips, she amended, “Your pussy.”

“Whose?”

“Yours.”

“Let me worry about her, then.”

With that, he buttoned the top button of her coat, placed her hand in his arm, and led her to the door.

***

“I want to meet him.”

“What?”

“Ramsey.” Delilah said his name like they were old friends.

They were out to Saturday brunch, and her sister was looking radiant. Her color was back, and for being cancer-free, Jezebel had shelled out decent money to buy her the most magnificent wig she’d seen. It was handcrafted, with virgin human hair, and had been custom-fit for Delilah’s head. It was also bouncy, with natural curls, just like her sister liked. Add to that the trim fur and large sunglasses on Delilah’s face as they enjoyed the cool April day, her sister looked like her usual diva self. “I want to meet him.”

Lifting a mimosa to her lips, Jezebel took a deep gulp, before asking, “Why?”

“Because he’s your man.”

She thought about denying it, but her sister only smiled like she had a secret.

“What? What are you hiding?”

“I’ve got contacts at
The Osiris
you know.”

“Oh?”

Delilah nodded. “They told me that you’re always there—during the week and on weekends.”

“Who?”

Her sister stared at her as if she’d grown another limb and promptly shook her head. “I never reveal my sources. So, when do I get to meet him?”

Jezebel thought about it. Ramsey had never mentioned taking her to meet his family, though she had met his niece, Lily, spontaneously.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her sister’s brows lifted. “Why not?”

“It hasn’t even been three months.”

“So?”

“Lilah!”

“Jez,” Deliah groaned, removing the sunglasses to look into her eyes. “I just want to make sure he’s not another Kirk. I always thought that guy was such a freakin’ douche.”

She stiffened, and Delilah broke off.

“He’s not Kirk. He’s different.”

Kirkland Ross had been her “perfect” match. Like her, he was Ivy League educated, had more degrees than she did, a CEO, and he ran in her circles. But he’d also been self-obsessed, overconfident, and looked at every woman who passed, even if she wasn’t attractive. He just wanted their attention. Jezebel had been in denial for years, refusing to believe that her perfect match was a bastard. And when he’d proposed, she’d been happy. She could almost see it all coming together. She’d have the final piece of the puzzle: a husband, a shared house, a dog or fish, maybe kids...someday. And not a month after he’d proposed, he’d told her he was going out of the country for the weekend, and needing a folder she’d left at his home, she’d gone there to find it. She’d found much more. She’d found Kirk and two professionals—they had to be paid whores—rolling around in the very bed she’d shared with him. He’d been too into them to notice her, but one of them saw her and froze. When Kirk had told her to “get back to sucking my cock, bitch,” Jezebel walked into the bedroom, ignoring his curses and apologies, grabbed the duffel bag she usually left with some clothes in it, and proceeded to get her stuff. He hadn’t tried to touch her, though he’d pleaded and told her he was a sex addict who needed help. By the time she’d left, she was done with Kirk, and everything to do with him.

“Okay,” Delilah sighed. “He’s different.”

When her sister only continued to stare at her, obviously unsatisfied, Jezebel sighed and decided to compromise, “Give me a few days to think about it...and I’ll see what I can do.”

Her sister nodded and smiled. “Okay...two days?”

She frowned.

“Three?”

“Why do you need more than two days to think about it?”

“Lilah,” she groaned.

“Fine. Take as many days as you want so long as it’s less than a week.”

Jezebel nodded and sipped on her mimosa again, before she remembered her sister’s tactics and said, “And you can’t go to the Osiris and run into him
unexpectedly
either.”

Her sister’s face fell and Jezebel lifted her glass. Delilah reluctantly toasted. She knew her sister too well.

“So, let’s talk about you,” Jezebel murmured, changing the subject. “How was your date with Frank?”

Delilah sighed. “It wasn’t a date. It was just a drink. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t dead.”

“Your sense of humor is weird,” Jezebel muttered.

As her sister chuckled and talked about a modeling gig to benefit cancer awareness, Jezebel gave Delilah her undivided attention. Her sister could be talking about the nuisances of watching paint dry and she’d listen attentively. Whatever Delilah wanted to talk about, she wanted to hear. Her sister was still here and that was all that mattered.

***

“Maybe we could go to your place tonight?”

Ramsey tensed, the hands gripping her buttocks over her dress stilled. He lifted his lips from her neck to look down at her. Silence exploded between them like a gunshot.

They’d just come from dinner, and as she’d known he would, before they’d made it back to his truck, he’d pressed her into a hidden alcove and proceeded to grope her. She’d worn one of her sexy dresses tonight, a skin-tight, body-con piece that hugged her figure and accentuated all her curves. Ramsey always worshiped her curves...so she thought tonight to wear something that showed them off for him.

“I’m guessing that’s a no?” She wished she could see his face instead of having it cast in shadow.

“Jez—”

“It’s fine.” She cut him off and forced a smile. “I just thought we could use a change.”

Before he could respond, she pushed past him, shaking her head at her own stupidity. Ramsey had been vocal in what he wanted from her, and he seemed to want more than sex, yet he never offered to take her to his place, nor had he mentioned anything about introducing her to his family. Even when his niece had her birthday party, Jezebel hadn’t been invited. She wouldn’t say he was ashamed of her—he was affectionate in public—but he didn’t seem to want her around his private family life. Why hadn’t she noticed this before Delilah brought up family introductions? Because she was whipped. Clearly.