Page 25 of The Christmas Cover Rule
“It’s a couple’s day.” A teasing smile pulls at her lips.
“Ahhh.” I drag my hand over her ankle and up her calf. “And what does a couple’s day look like, Mrs. Jonas?”
“Well… I know you came here for work.” She shifts slightly in her chair, and I massage her leg, encouraging her to continue. “Do you have stuff you need to get done?”
I should be planning a better course of action than crashing a wedding, or at the very least, I should be responding to my boss. But when I look at Stella sitting across from me, and see the smile starting to pull at her lips, I don’t want to be anywhere else. Without taking my eyes off her, I reach out and shut my laptop. “I’m all yours.”
Her eyes light up, and she sets her other foot in my lap. “Good! Because I have a surprise for you.”
When Stella toldme she planned a surprise, an in-room couples massage might have been one of the last things I would have guessed.
The towels they have us wearing are somehow thicker than the ones in our suite, and I’m grateful for it now as I watch Stella lie on the table bed with her eyes closed, and only a sheet covering the plump swell of her ass. Her masseuse pours a liquid into her hands, and our private patio fills with the faint scent of lavender before her dainty hands begin rubbing Stella’s back.
“Ohhh,” Stella begins to moan, and my cock that was stirring only a moment ago has fully awakened now.
“Oh, god. That’s so good.” Her already raspy voice turns into a deep, husky whisper, and her moaning intensifies with each stroke of pressure her masseuse applies.
“Mmm, yeah.”
“Stella!” I cut her off, and her eyes open, staring at me. “You can’t keep making those noises.”
Her masseuse looks at me, but I adjust my robe and avert my eyes back to Stella. “People are going to think something else is going on here.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the woman rubbing Stella’s back whispers.
I open my mouth, but I’m interrupted by the sliding door and, who I’m assuming is my masseuse, stomps outside. She’s different from Stella’s masseuse. Much taller, far broader, and no smile in sight.
“Hello.” I dip my head, attempting to speak softly.
“Lay.”
Okay. Not one for small talk. That’s fine with me.
Thankful I’ve forgotten about the sounds of pleasure Stella was making, I’m now able to lie face down. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, only to tense immediately at the sudden slap of two large, rough hands on my shoulders.
“Oh, hey. Hello.”
I lift my head, but those same rough hands shove my face back down to the bed. I catch a quiet snicker beside me, but before I can say anything, Ms. Trunchabult is at my back, karate chopping the piss out of me.
“Relax!” she yells.
“Yeah. I’m trying.”
At least the moaning has stopped. I’m not even sure I could get hard with the way this lady is attempting to tenderize my back.
There’s finally a pause in the beating, and I take what feels like a baby’s first breath. The air in my lungs is short-lived, though, when my masseuse climbs up on the table, presses her bowling ball-sized knee into my back, and yanks my arms behind me until I’m bowing like the front of a canoe.
“Aghh!”
Stella has lost her battle of wills and has no shame in the roaring laugh she’s now letting out. Back arched—and possibly broken—I’m able to catch the way the table is shaking beneath her. On the other hand, her masseuse just continues rubbing gentle circles across her back, as if this were any other day.
Seconds before I’m positive I’m about to snap a vertebra, I’m lowered back down to the table. I prop up onto my elbows, rubbing my wrist from where the jaws of life back there had her strong hold on me, and while I can’t prove it, I’m pretty sure she mutters ‘baby’ while sticking her hands in a bowl of something.
Being careful not to move too abruptly, I lie back down, turning my head to face Stella. “Thank you for this couple’s day, Stell. It’s been so relaxing.”
“I’m sorry,” she mouths, looking anything but sorry.
Her eyes are locked on mine, soft and playful. I’m about to reach out to her, but her lips part, fighting off a laugh when I jolt and my eyes bulge out of my head because those god damn ham hands clamp around the back of my thighs and begin kneading me.
