Total pages in book: 8
Estimated words: 7627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 38(@200wpm)___ 31(@250wpm)___ 25(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 7627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 38(@200wpm)___ 31(@250wpm)___ 25(@300wpm)
“Yeah, Carnie. I left her card near your phone. If you need her. See you in two weeks.”
“Safe travels, brother,” I say instead of what I really want to. No brother wants to hear how badly their friend wants to fuck their little sister. I wouldn’t want to, that’s for sure.
Out of the tub, I dry off, waiting for my body to warm up on its own. Sitting down on the bench, I reach over, grabbing my phone and Carnie’s business card. I text her to meet me at the gym and get dressed without another thought.
Twenty minutes later, I’m walking on the treadmill when I hear the doors open. I look up from my Kindle where I'm reading my favorite James Bond novel, Live and Let Die. My heart stutters as I take in her outfit. She's wearing tight black leggings and a multicolored strappy contraption that can only be a sports bra—her hot pink Nike's complete the look.
"You wanted to see me?" she asks.
"Yeah. My arm is killing me. Can you help with that?" It's not a lie, but I could care less about my arm right now.
"Sure. Give me a few and meet me in the PT room."
She looks so flushed. I can't wait to see if that blush creeps down her whole body.
I've been a good man my whole life. I've never taken something for myself, something I haven't earned yet. I want Carnie for myself; I'll worry about earning her later.
two
Carnie
Deep breaths, Carnie. Deep breaths. I repeat this over and over in my head as I try, in vain, to calm down. I am about to be all alone with the man who has haunted my dreams for months now. When I met him at my brother’s wedding, I wanted him then, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept his advances. I read all about him in the media, and I knew I couldn’t handle being just another notch in his bedpost. My brother said I had it all wrong, but it was too late. I had to finish school. I really didn’t have time for a man, though I often wonder what it would have been like with him. His cocky attitude made me want things I’d never wanted before. The way he’s portrayed in the media gave me pause, and instead, I was a royal bitch. I’d be surprised if he wanted anything more to do with me than massage. I kick my shoes off and place them along with my socks in the corner. I like to be comfortable when I’m working, and I hate wearing shoes, so they are always the first thing to go.
I set my room up earlier in the week, and this is the first time I’ve used it. My brother got me this job and being home in Atlanta is nice after going to college in Boston. I am not only a physical therapist but a massage therapist as well. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I Bluetooth it to the sound system and play the soothing tones of my Enya playlist. I move around the giant massage table to get a sheet. I sing softly as I smooth it out over the table.
I look up when I hear him clear his throat. He’s leaning against the door jam, smiling at me.
“You ready?” I ask, remembering to breathe.
“Yes.” He enters the small space, and I am overwhelmed with his scent. It’s definitely Irish Spring. He smells clean and fresh without the added junk a cologne offers. I watch as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on the chair in the corner. He steps out of his shoes but thankfully leaves his sweatpants on.
“It’s the right arm, correct?” I ask, pumping some massage oil into my hand.
“Yes,” he says, swallowing thickly. He sits down on the table but doesn't make any move to lay down.
“You don’t want to lie down?”
“For my arm?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Okay, we can start there, but I thought I could give you a full workup.”
“Full workup?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. Man, he asks a lot of questions.
“A full body massage and I need to practice,” I lie easily. I just want to touch him all over. I can totally be professional about it. Can’t I?
“Sure. Sounds great,” he says, smiling at me. His hair is longer than it was last season, and it falls over his eyes. He looks roguish. My pussy throbs in my tight pants, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud.
After rubbing my hands together, I place them on his shoulder and begin to rub the tight muscles. He groans and drops his head back. I work slowly and methodically from shoulder to elbow. After thirty minutes of just working on his arm, I have him lie down on his stomach. Getting more oil, I work the muscles in his back.