Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“If you say so.”
“I say so,” I told her, wishing I felt so. “I’m just going a little wild because I was all cooped up for a year. I’m enjoying my freedom. And my orgasms.”
She laughed. “Sounds like it. Well, good for you.”
“And besides, no use in carrying on when I’m leaving in a month anyway. It would just be delaying the inevitable. Better now than later.”
“That’s true, I suppose. Hey, did Scott Blackstone reach out yet?”
“No, is he going to?”
“He told Jake he was. Jake said he was super excited to hear you were interested in the job.”
“Oh, that’s awesome. Please thank Jake for me.”
“I will, and let me know as soon as you hear from Scott. Next, we need to find you a place to live! Let me ask around—I’m still close with a lot of the current Rockettes and maybe someone is looking to sublet or share a two-bedroom or something.”
“Thanks, Morgan. I appreciate it.”
We hung up, and I put my clean clothes away, trying to get excited about moving back to Manhattan.
But all I could think of was leaving here. Leaving him. Somehow New York City was losing its appeal.
I repeated the words I’d said to Morgan.
It’s not like that with us. It’s casual. Temporary. Just for fun. We are not dating, and there are no feelings involved.
And when my heart tried to argue, I repeated them again.
And again.
And again.
When he knocked on my door about quarter after seven, I was ready. The shades were drawn, the lights were out, and a dozen candles flickered in the dark. Dreamy spa music played on my phone in the bedroom, and I’d covered the bed with towels. On the nightstand was the fancy massage oil I’d splurged on at a high-end Main Street boutique, which offset the dollar-store candles.
I opened the door wearing a sundress, and he immediately frowned. “You said—”
“Relax,” I said, bringing him inside. He wore only his sweatpants, and his hair was damp from the shower. I could smell his man shampoo. “Come here.”
Leading him into the bedroom, I gestured toward the bed. “Okay, take off your pants and lie down.”
He gamely doffed his sweats and climbed onto the bed, stretching out on his back, hands behind his head. “My body is ready.”
“Turn over. Lie on your stomach.”
“But my fun bits are on the front.”
“Do it, please.” I gave him a stern look.
“Take off the dress first.”
Sighing, I pulled the dress over my head and tossed it aside, then shimmied out of my underwear. “There.”
“Well, now I don’t want to turn over. I want to look at you.” His eyes swept over my skin, which bore fading marks from the last two nights, and his cock began to swell.
I put my hands on my hips. “Don’t make me get rough with you, Buckley.”
He groaned and flopped over onto his stomach. “I’m giving you five minutes. And then I’m getting rough with you.”
“Shhhh. Just relax.” Grabbing the bottle of massage oil from the nightstand, I straddled his hips, sitting on his ass.
He moaned. “This is just cruel.”
“Hush. Put your hands by your head.” I rubbed some oil into my hands and started with light strokes up and down either side of his spine, between his shoulder blades, and on the back of his neck.
“That actually feels pretty good,” he said. “Much better than the revenge massage.”
“This is just the warm-up,” I informed him. “I’m about to get mean.”
Increasing the pressure, I worked all the muscles of his back and shoulders and neck, then moved on to his arms. He groaned and cursed me out a few times, especially when I used my elbows, but I could feel the knots loosening up. I scooted down and massaged his legs and feet, admiring the solid thighs and calves. I let my hands glide up his inner thighs and get close to his fun bits, but I was careful not to touch them. I didn’t want him to get turned on and take over—I had a plan.
I saved his butt for last and had a good time kneading the firm flesh with my hands, enjoying the string of curses he muttered. “Okay, now you can turn over,” I told him.
He rolled onto his back. “Are you going to straddle me again?”
“In a minute.” I started with his legs, moving from ankle to thigh. His cock was hard, and it jumped when my hands came near it. Finally, I knelt with a leg on either side of his thighs and took it in my hands, which were warm and slick with the oil.
“Fuck, yeah,” he said, reaching for my breasts.
I pushed his hands away. “No touching, sir.”
“You didn’t mention that rule before.”
“Just lie back, please. You’re going to like this.” I moved up, straddling his torso to rub his pecs and deltoids and biceps. “Doesn’t that feel good?”