The Accidental Mistress (20 page)

Shuffling about, Shelley felt like a body on a slab, waiting for a bunch of medical students to scrutinise her. It wasn’t sexy at all, and she had no idea how she should lie. If only she could relax and enjoy what she was paying for! Compelling herself to stop squirming, she lay with her face to one side, every muscle in her body as hard as a board. Sholto was going to have his work cut out with her, that was for sure.

‘Don’t worry, Shelley … just relax.’ His voice was softer now, low and almost hypnotic. One or two muscles loosened just a smidge. ‘It’s only a massage. Nothing more unless you want it.’

With that, his hands settled lightly on her shoulders. They were warm, unoiled as yet, pleasantly dry and smooth.

I want more already
, a traitorous voice muttered inside her.
A lot more.

Still barely floating across her skin, he smoothed his fingertips over her shoulders, her upper arms, her upper back. He was introducing her to his touch, letting her flesh simply make friends with his. It should have been innocent and impersonal, yet it was the most erotic experience of her
life, more exciting than the wildest, sweatiest fuck she’d ever had. As he leaned over her, she caught a whiff of some faint but delicious cologne he was wearing, very fresh and green. It went straight to her head like a drug, and to her pussy like a triple-X aphrodisiac.

She drew a sharp breath as he unfastened her bra and eased the straps off her shoulders.

‘Easier to work on your upper back with straps out of the way,’ he observed, adjusting the scraps of lace again, fingertips brushing her bare back in the process, like points of flame drawn across her skin. Unable to control herself, she shuddered.

Sholto let out a small sigh, as if exasperated, and even though she had her eyes firmly shut, Shelley could sense him shake his head.

Screw you. You make me nervous. What do you expect?

His hands withdrew, and she heard the small sounds of him uncapping the oil bottle, then the slippery-slap noise of him coating his hands with it. She drew in a breath, braced herself, then had to let the air out again when she realised she’d have to breathe at least once during the process ahead.

And then, almost before she realised, he was working on her, moving his strong fingers in circles, quite gentle at first, hardly noticeable, just pushing lightly on her super-tense muscles.

‘Hey, come on … you’re still not very relaxed, are you?’ He pressed a little harder, digging into the knots in her shoulders, but not unkindly. ‘Just let yourself go loose or you won’t get the benefit of this.’ Circling, circling, he worked his thumbs more vigorously, but still far from hurting or going in tough. ‘Why so wound up, Shelley? You’re like a board … Chill out. Breathe … enjoy …’

She tried to breathe steadily and evenly, to let herself go loose.

‘I keep thinking of what you might do to me.’

There, it was out. She’d paid for him; she didn’t really trust him. If it’d been Brent, she’d have trusted him, but even thinking about that was weird. She loved Brent as a friend, but she’d never fancied him, even though Lizzie and he had been an item once.

But Sholto was from the same agency as Brent had worked for, so they, and he, must be bona fide.

His hands stilled on her back, spread and resting softly. ‘Look, I told you I won’t do anything you don’t want.’ He paused, and his fingers flexed ever so slightly.

‘All I want is a massage,’ she muttered, knowing that her mulish stubbornness was denying her what she
did
want. Which was more. Everything. All he had to offer.

Totally beyond her control, her body shook again.

‘Are you OK? Are you cold?’ Lifting his hands from her shoulders, he reached down towards the bottom of the bed and grabbed a soft fleece comforter. Then, as if she were some kind of invalid, he spread it over her bottom and her legs. ‘Better?’

She felt like a complete fool, but she sort of liked his solicitousness. In the past, she’d been unlucky and not really scored with the type of man who was like that. Hence this escort experience … But what would it be like to have a proper date with him? Not straight to massage … or sex … or even spanking or whatever. Just a meal out somewhere, maybe, or a few drinks, or a summer’s evening walk. A few kisses, maybe. Normal, delicious sex.

I bet even straight missionary is sensational with you.

‘Yes … thanks.’

His hands alit on her shoulders again, and he resumed the massage.

‘There, that
is
better, isn’t it?’ He sounded pleased with her, and it dawned on Shelley that sometime during the little exchange for the blanket, she
had
actually started to relax at last.

And the massage had started to be heavenly. Sholto was a genius, a gifted masseur, and even if he did do ‘BDSM Fantasy’, ‘Sensual Massage’ was obviously one of his special talents too. His strong, dextrous fingers found all the right spots as if by magic; all the knots and nadges that stressing about the awful offices she sometimes ended up in created. All the tension of wanting to be pleased and happy for her friend, who had this glorious new boyfriend … and at the same time being jealous. Sholto dug into these tough spots with authority, and yet still with gentleness, and unwound the entanglements and apprehension in a way that made her loose and calm and sensualised.

She sighed out loud, and then laughed, astonished.

‘You should specialise in massage. You’re bloody good at it.’ She shimmied her shoulders beneath his touch, and then wriggled her whole body, biting her lips when she realised she was incredibly wet, and even though she was relaxed, her pussy was almost humming with need and hunger. He’d turned her on, without even trying. Or maybe he
was
trying? But had a brilliant and sly way of going about it?

‘I try to be all things to all women, Shelley, but I do rather enjoy the other thing.’ She sensed him shrugging towards the case where his ‘toys’ were stowed away again.

Not pausing, his hands slid down her back until they reached her waist and the comforter. He eased it down a little way and began working deftly on the areas of muscle over
her hips and the upper edges of her buttocks. Acutely aware of where he was heading, Shelley tensed again.

‘Uh oh, naughty, naughty,’ Sholto chided. His voice was friendly, but there was a hint, just a breath of something more there too. Perhaps the authority, the discipline he often wielded? It was barely detectable, but it made Shelley’s heart beat fast.

That, and her wayward pussy clench in yearning.

What the hell is the matter with me? Do I want the BDSM thing or not? I hate pain … but how will I know if I can like it too, if I don’t try?

Damn Lizzie for having sown those seeds, with her thrilling talk about John.

Shelley imagined Sholto looming over her, large and commanding as she knelt at his feet. She imagined him putting her across his knees and then spanking her bottom. She couldn’t imagine the actual pain, but the idea of lying there, exposed and trembling, made heat bubble through her and wild energy build up in her body. Her pussy seemed to scream for attention, and unable to stop herself, she pressed her pelvis against the mattress, seeking some ease for it even though Sholto was still actively massaging her.

Then his hands stilled. And not only his hands. It was as if every molecule of air in the room fell still too. As if it and she were waiting for something. Some change. Some sign.

After what seemed an eternity, Sholto moved on to the bed beside her, and she felt his warm breath, which smelt faintly of aromatic whisky, waft against the side of her face.

‘Relax,’ he said again, but it was as if he were speaking a foreign language, or the single word was a code or cipher, meaning something else entirely.

Involuntarily, Shelley shuddered deeply, the ripple flowing
through her. She felt a sensation of opening and shifting, as if everything had indeed changed, quite radically.

There were new rules between them now, new boundaries, new expectations.

Sholto began to massage again, but it was no longer just massage. He was touching now, exploring, caressing. Searching and owning. His hands slid up her back again, and then slyly around the side of her ribcage and beyond. She moaned as he reached beneath her and cupped her breasts.

As he thumbed her nipples, his lips settled on the soft crook of her neck and shoulder, kissing and nibbling.

Was it these kisses, or the way he was handling her breasts that affected her most? She couldn’t tell. She was suffused with a kind of blossoming pleasure and energy that was impossible to contain in a still, pliant body. She had to move. She had to writhe. Her hips rocked and circled against the towel beneath her, and she parted her thighs, trying to press her pussy hard against the mattress to bump and grind.

‘Good?’ enquired Sholto, pausing to lick sudden salty sweat off the side of her neck. His breath was like a tropical breeze against her skin.

She couldn’t speak, but her approximation of a nod made his lips curve. She could feel his smile pressed against the nape of her neck.

We’ve moved out of Sensual Massage territory now, haven’t we?
she wanted to ask him, but she couldn’t. There was no need to ask anyway. He knew. He knew all. He was deciphering her needs with the touch of his hands and his lips. Experienced in the ways of stirring women, he was feeding her desire as he rolled and fondled her nipples.

His smooth chest was hot against her back as he inclined over her. His skin felt moist and seemed to bloom against
her, like a blanket both protecting and arousing. She longed to feel the press of his crotch against her bottom, and the rough denim of his jeans on her bare skin.

She wanted more than that, much more, but her dreaming, floating mind could only negotiate one step at a time.

As his lips tracked down the vertebrae of her spine, his hands moved too, first flipping away the comforter completely, then slipping beneath the elastic of her briefs, both at once, to cup her buttocks. The way he squeezed the rounds of flesh was both rude … and delicious.

Somehow she knew that he would never spank her without some clear signal that she wanted to go that way, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to give such a signal yet. The touching and caressing was so gorgeous that she wanted more of that first … more, more, more.

She parted her thighs again, churning her hips, encouraging him to touch her where it mattered.

Sholto’s fingertips strayed into the groove of her bottom, patting and stroking and teasing and making Shelley almost choke with excitement. There was something dark and forbidden about being touched there, and her clit tingled hotter and hotter the more he fondled her.

‘You like that, don’t you?’ he whispered, bending low again, his voice unexpectedly tender. His teeth closed on her earlobe and he nipped lightly as he flicked at her perineum.

Shelley groaned, making a sound she didn’t think she’d ever heard come out of her mouth before. It was raw, almost feral, an expression of pure desire without any kind of prevarication.

‘Tell me you like it,’ he persisted, nipping again, then gentling the tiny hurt with a kiss as his fingertip went forward and paddled delicately around the entrance to her sex.

‘Yes … yes, I like it,’ she sobbed, her hips jerking, her body seeking his touch. ‘Please … Please …’ Her words petered away as he pressed his middle finger right inside her. It was such a slight penetration, but still it felt huge, the impact monumental.

They were in uncharted territory now, off the map. He was serving her needs, but expanding them too. She gasped as he wiggled his finger.

Of course these things happened. They probably happened with every single goddamned client of his.

‘Relax,’ he purred again, his mantra.

Her sticky body softened around his digit and he pushed it in further, right up to the knuckle.

Shelley let out a sob, her inner walls rippling around him.

Please touch my clit.

She knew she hadn’t said it aloud. Her brain didn’t seem to be working sufficiently well to frame actual words.

But still he knew what to do.

Sholto’s other hand slid beneath her, sliding under her belly, inveigling its way into her panties. His middle finger dove in amongst the soft curls of her bush and settled unerringly on her clitoris.

‘Oh! Oh God!’

She didn’t come. It was just the shock of the touch, even though she’d been expecting it. Her hands clutched at the duvet beneath her, grabbing bunches of the cloth as she writhed, pressing against the tiny, firm pressure of Sholto’s fingertip against her clit. Despite her wriggling and jerking, he stayed with her, spearing her body between two delicious nodes of contact.

‘And you like that too, don’t you?’

His voice was so male, so possessive. So … so dominant.
A sweet sense of weakening flooded through her, unlike anything she’d experienced before. It was so sumptuous, so wanton just to be a toy, a reacting bundle of nerves and pleasure. It was like fainting, but still being wide awake.

‘Shelley?’ he prompted, moving the finger inside her for emphasis.

‘Yes! Oh yes!’

His answer to her was infernal, exquisite, precise. A delicate circling of his finger against her clitoris. How could he be so accurate when she was flailing about so much?

The question dissolved. Her ability to think went with it. All lost in the sweet golden glow of orgasm, made all the sweeter and more dazzling for a soft kiss on her neck, beneath her ear, as the waves and waves of pleasure surged through her.

Afterwards she lay gasping, dimly aware that Sholto was no longer touching her, but not too worried about it. The way she’d come had left her tingling in every nerve and cell and she wasn’t sure she could even tolerate anything more, for the moment. She buried her face in the duvet, wondering if she should feel guilty or cheap or just massively pleased with herself because she’d
chosen
this treat. She’d made the right decision for once.