Without a doubt in my mind, I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to fire her weapon. And, neither was there a doubt in my mind that she didn’t shoot for shits. Royce would certainly shoot to kill. That Glock wasn’t an accessory. It was a warning.
A towel covered her from her neck down to her thighs. Her face was hidden, buried in the head rest that formed a circle. Beside her was an empty bed.
She was irresistible. Magnetic. Alluring. And, I was fully engaged without the ability to control myself. Royce felt too much like mine. I felt too much like hers.
Small hands rubbed her body. I observed, taking note of the movement, pressure, and direction. When time permitted, my lengths to please Royce would be immeasurable.
She was quiet. Content. Relaxed.
I lowered my body until my mouth was ear-level with the woman who was slowly stealing my power and my sanity.
“My world is crumbling and you’re face down, eyes closed, and without a care in the world. Royce–”
I was hardly here because I needed her to do any more than she’d already done in preparation for the inevitable. I was here because I needed her. And, it ended there. Seeing her clothed me in content. Disturbed whatever was going on up in that fucking circus of mine. My brain was a complex place… one that she simplified with one word. One look.
Still, I didn’t reveal the true nature of my presence. But, somehow, I had a feeling she knew that already. She lifted her head. Things inside of me shifted.
“Get undressed, Ishmael,” Royce demanded.
After the words left her mouth, she lowered, disappearing without as much as a glance in my direction. Perturbed and tantalized at once, I stilled. Unmoving and completely consumed, I considered her bare-faced beauty. It was staggering.
Her side profile left me gobsmacked. I wasn’t prepared for the full image. Not mentally, physically, or in any way I could be. I rested my eyes and shook my head from one side to the other, slowly, as I attempted to collect myself. Or as much of me that she hadn’t yet stolen.
I rubbed a hand down my chin and neck. Royce was becoming as much of my stressor as she was my reliever.
I didn’t protest. Instead, I laid my naked body on the table next to her sixty seconds later, smothering my hard dick with the weight of my body.Revolver in hand.
A warm, damp towel cleansed my skin of excess oil. My lungs and chest had loosened. So had my limbs. The sound of water crashing against the shore swayed my thoughts.
An hour and a half of my time had been well spent. The noise was behind me. Anxiousness was beneath me. Contentment was before me.
At thirty-eight, I had never taken the time out of my day to rest my body and mind on the table of a masseuse. That changed today, and I was contemplating fitting a monthly maintenance in my schedule.
“Ma’am. Sir. Have a blessed day.”
“Thank you, Hailey.” Royce sighed.
The weight she was carrying had been freed from her shoulders. She sounded much lighter and utterly refreshed. I couldn’t deny the difference I felt either.
I was the first to rise, considerate of Royce’s discomfort. Remaining respectful, I held both ends of the towel around my waist as I stood. I lifted my left foot, attempting to put it forward. However, I halted midstride.
Royce was on her feet in a flash. Unclothed. Uncovered. Unphased. Her body glistened from the remnants of oil. Her face radiated from the effects of the hour and a half long massage. Her cheeks rose as my erection followed suit.
Down, boy.
Dark areolas housed hardened nipples. They were small, round, and suckable. I swallowed the saliva forming in my mouth at the thought of all parts of her touching my tongue.
Her breasts were only the first perfect parts of her I noticed. However, she was perfection at its finest. All of her.
Those chiseled abs.
Defined waistline.
Hips that spread like mayo on a slice of bread.
The slight gap between her legs.
And the way her legs rounded out so perfectly.
