Publication date: September 13th 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance
At the luxurious Hotel Indigo, the staff is attentive and the heat is always on.
Between her father’s funeral, stress from work, and her mother’s guilt, Lucy White has hit her boiling point. Something’s got to give, so she books a room at the exclusive Hotel Indigo spa to let it all go, and leave her worries behind.
Dark and brooding Marco is Indigo’s best masseur — always in demand, always under pressure to “make the ladies feel good.” According to the boss, Marco’s pay depends on talented hands and loose morals, but lately Marco has had enough. He’ll take one last high-paying client, then leave his tired past behind.
But paradise has other plans for both of them.
Once Lucy checks in and falls under Marco’s strong touch, she just may never check out.
My heart leaps. I know exactly where I am and what’s in front of me. The railing isn’t high, so when Marco grabs my ankles I’m sure I’ve made a mistake.
This was all a setup. He bedded me, tricked me, got me into a perilous position. Somehow, he’s angled himself to receive my money — maybe even make a claim on Caspian’s. He’ll toss me over this low railing, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.
But his hands don’t stay at my ankles. They move up my bare, chilled legs. I shouldn’t have worn a skirt, but I didn’t know what Marco had in mind, or how cold it might get once the sun was done with the day.
His hands slide up my calves.
Up the backs of my thighs.
“What are you doing?”
“When I was seeing my therapist, she said that you can’t ever remove bad thoughts from your head. You have to replace them with good ones. And you do that by reframing — by changing what those bad things mean to you.”
I start to turn, but Marco’s arms are long enough that he can put a firm hand on my spine and keep me from looking back. I’m firmly planted, but it feels like the slightest movement might send me ass-over-teakettle to the base of this tower.
His hands are under my skirt. High up, on my ass.
“What are you doing?”
“Changing the meaning of heights for you.”
His fingers hook into my panties and drag them all the way down. I feel them in a pool at my ankles, and the breeze under my skirt, where I’m bare.
But don’t must be a trigger word for this guy, because he stops me again. This time by lifting my skirt, exposing my ass to the world, and running his tongue along my pussy from behind.
It lights me up. Despite my predicament, my juices start flowing. I’m wet for this man. Memories of earlier in the day flood back, and I want him all over again. Fear is a lubricant. Adrenaline and terror, it turns out, aren’t far from the reckless chemistry of fucking. I’m like a performance sports car: from zero to sixty in two seconds.
I almost want to fight it — to prove how afraid I am, and hence how inappropriate this is. But Marco’s tongue feels too good on my wet flesh. It’s strong, like the rest of him. He presses his mouth against my opening, and all I can think of is how I want more of him inside me.
“Spread your legs.”
“Do it. It’ll give you a wider support base, so you won’t feel like you’re going to fall when you bend over the railing.”
Wait a minute. “If you think I’m going to—”
Marco wrenches my feet further apart, opening my pussy. Then his hand is on my back, bending me over the rail. My eyes are still closed, but my heart must be going two hundred beats per minute. If I were to open my eyes now, I’d be looking straight down.
Marco will end this if I push him — but with my body bent and legs spread, his tongue can reach all of me, and I’m dripping for his touch.
I don’t want to push him. I want him to keep pushing me.
“Fuck me, Marco.”
“Open your eyes.”
“Please. Just fuck me.”
I hear him unzip. He’s wearing jeans — a better choice than my skirt. I hear rustling and imagine him taking his cock out. I remember its look. I remember its feel as it pushed into me, parting my wetness.
“Open your eyes, Lucy.”
I shake my head. I can’t speak. My legs are spread and my naked ass is pointing toward Marco, but I feel like my center of gravity is way out in front of my nose. If I open my eyes, I’ll see how far out I’m leaning — and how far down I’d go before never seeing anything else.
“If you open your eyes, I’ll fuck you.”
My pussy throbs at his words. I feel something behind me, hot and hard brushing my ass. I want that thing inside me. I need it, with all this fear riling me up. I crave it more than anything.
I lie. “My eyes are open.”
“I can’t see your eyes from back here, so tell me: how many green lights do you see near the horizon?”
“Open your eyes like a good girl, Lucy, and I’ll put my cock inside you.”
I open my eyes — no faster than the click of a camera’s shutter, and then they’re closed.
“Five green lights,” I say, breathless.
And I feel the tip of his hot cock push against my pussy, then slip an inch inside. I try to push back against him, but Marco holds me in place.
“And what color is the house straight ahead, just in the valley? The big one?”
Shit. I didn’t see any house.
“Tell me and you can have another inch.”
“I want it all, Marco. Please.”
“You’re not in charge, Lucy. For your own good, I’m making the rules.”
My eyes open again, just for a second. “White.”
Marco fucks me one more inch. “How many cars in the parking lot to our right?”
My eyes open. They close. “One.”
And Marco buries himself in my pussy, all the way.
His hands come up under my shirt. I’m not wearing a bra, so he cups my tits in his big, strong palms.
“Tell me what you see, and I’ll keep fucking you.”
Steeling myself, I open my eyes. “Trees.”
“Too easy. You’re guessing.”
“There’s one that looks like a hand.”
Marco pulls back, slowly. The ridge under his cock’s head rolls along my insides as I grip him tightly, and I gasp.
“And there’s a mansion. With a giant wrap-around porch.”
“Very good. Keep going.”
“The hills make the shape of a low, rounded W. There’s another water tower off to the left.”
Marco thrusts in and out, in and out. His breath is changing, quickly losing control.
“There’s a Wal-Mart. A Taco Bell. I can see the expressway there.” I actually raise one hand from the railing to point; that’s how eager I am to please him.
I wobble, terrified all over, my entire body on high alert. But with Marco fucking me, the fear is something else. My nipples harden in fear. My pussy grips him in fear. I get wetter in fear. And it becomes hard to keep speaking, because I might be coming, because of the fear.
“I see Old Town and Cherry Hill. And … and …”
Something has changed. I’m watching the landscape, desperately picking out landmarks to report back, so Marco will keep going.
But now I’m breathless, unable to speak for a whole new reason:
It’s beautiful, the town spread out beneath us like a galaxy of multicolored light.
Marco moves faster behind me, his breath racing. And when I come, my eyes close again, but only to see what’s inside, not because I’m avoiding what’s out. My pussy holds him tight, sending wave after wave of pleasure rolling up my spine. My body tingles, and I take both hands off the railing, reach back with both hands to pull Marco forward as he slams into me with his final thrusts.
When it’s over, Marco pulls out and sits on the catwalk, slumped with his back against the water tower. I sit beside him, my back also pressed against the cool metal. My eyes are open.
Together, sitting on the deck, we look out across the town.
“No,” I tell him. “Let’s stay here for a while and enjoy the view.”
I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.
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