Watching the couple go at in the soft-core porn got me hot, and I pressed my fingers deeper inside. Watching the man take control of the woman he was with, pressing her face into the bed as he fucked her, got me off so easily.
I wanted that. I wanted someone to take the reins and tell me what to do for a change.
My walls tightened as I orgasmed. It didn’t take much, especially when I allowed myself to imagine a man doing that to me. I breathed out in my release, dropping my phone on the bathroom rug as my fingers pressed my clit, and my other hand gripped the rim of the tub.
When I finished, I stood up and let the shower run over my body. Tears covered my face. I was ready to move on from Blaine, and ready for a change in my life.Chapter TenBreakfast with the girls started the day off right. Well, it was really brunch. Willow and I were nursing pretty decent hangovers from the night before.
I indulged in calorie-riddled French toast and fresh maple syrup, knowing I had no guy I was trying to impress.
It felt good to do what I wanted, not having to take anyone else into account. And my friends all seemed pretty well taken care of on their own. Maybe they always had been, maybe it had always been me who wanted to have someone to mother.
Courtney was all smiles, until the foursome of cute lobby guys came into the cafe. She got quiet, with her head down, not even noticing that one of them was totally checking her out. Willow tossed her long black hair over her shoulder, flirting from across the room, talking about her day hike.
“Well, I’m going to head back to the room,” I told them as I finished my cup of coffee. “I have my massage in an hour or so.”
“I’ll come with,” Courtney said.
Willow bowed out. She already had her hiking bag packed and was ready to go.I sat in the small waiting area before my massage. The masseuse saw clients in a small cabin much like the other ones on the property. Everything else about the resort felt rustic, but not this space.
Soft music played and incense burned, reminding me of high school, when my friends and I would burn patchouli in effort to mask the pot in our bedrooms. It made me smile, remembering a simpler, easier time.
Somehow, since graduating college, everything felt overwhelming. Sure I had a job, but I wanted more. I wanted to be happy with who I was as a person. It was like somewhere between my double major and working two part-time jobs to pay for it, all that started to matter was getting recommendations and impressing recruiters.
There had to be more.
“Callie?” A voice startled me from my thoughts. It was the guy from the lobby, the one with the short blond hair and strong muscular arms. Now I knew why he was so strong: he was a masseuse.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, caught off guard. This hottie was going to rub me down? The idea of it made me blush. Biting my lip, I said, “Are you the masseuse?”
“Yes, I’m Liam,” he said, offering me his hand.
I shook it, noticing how soft it was.
“I see you’ve signed up for a ninety-minute massage,” he said. “Any particular areas you’d like me to focus on?”
Umm—” I stammered.
I never lost my words, but looking at his broad shoulders and strong biceps under his tight crew-neck tee shirt … yeah, I had a few very specific areas I would like him to focus on.
“No,” I said regaining my composure. “I just wanted a relaxation massage.”
“Things been hard lately?” he said, looking at me from head to toe. I could have sworn he licked his lips, but I knew I was probably imagining things.
“Yeah, I broke up with my boyfriend,” I said, instantly regretting it. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. It’s not like you care.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’re single?”
“Yeah, but is that important to know for the massage?” Oh my god, I thought, are we flirting?
“That depends,” he said, smiling coyly.
Um, yes, definitely flirting. “On what?” I asked, pressing him to say what he meant.
“On what kind of massage you wanted.” He said it with a straight face, and I knew it would be up to me to go further with this line of questioning, or just retract and get my massage underway. A traditional facedown massage.
I smiled tightly, scared all of a sudden of being vulnerable with him, of letting my guard down and really going for what I wanted—which would be his hands all over my body, in a very unprofessional way. No matter how much I wanted to break out of the mold I had made for myself, it seemed when push came to shove, I ran.