The Masseuse Page 10

Ramsey turned to her, and she saw the hurt in his face briefly before he closed it off to her. “They’re not racist. They’re just...specific.”

  “A little racist?”

  He sighed. “Maybe a little, though it’s not specifically against one race. It’s against anyone who isn’t Korean.”

  “But you’re mixed.”

  He’d told her before that his mother was Korean, and his father Egyptian, hence his names. He smirked. “They seem to forget that.”

  The silence stretched between them, and feeling a bit self-conscious, Jezebel stepped further into the room to see what he was watching. “What is that?”

  He shrugged. “I turned on the TV and left it.”

  Moving to him, she found the remote and switched it off. He looked up at her curiously. “Did you mean it?”

  “Mean what?”

  “What you said about loving me?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “You lied to me, Ramsey.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Jezebel pressed her finger against his lips. “Yes, you did. You told me your apartment was cold.”

  He looked away.

  “Don’t lie to me again.”

  His eyes found hers, and he lifted a brow, before nodding once. She crawled onto the bed, both knees on either side of his hips, and settled down. Surprise etched its way into his features. Jezebel smiled slightly. “I was going to leave, but I thought about what you said...and I like what we have and think we deserve another chance.”

  He seemed to be in a state of shock, so she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his. Shock disappeared as his mouth opened and his lips and tongue devoured hers.

  As she’d stood in his closet, preparing to toss the robe aside and get dressed, Jezebel had remembered the things about Ramsey that made him different from other men, made her like—maybe even love—him. She remembered how he’d taken care of her on one of her lowest nights, how he always took care of her, whether it was cooking, or taking her somewhere and bringing her home, or giving her a massage because she was tense, or cleaning her up after they made love. She’d remembered his humor, his wit, how unchallenged he was when an event was about her, and no one knew him. Kirk had never been quite comfortable with just standing at her side; Ramsey was, even if he started getting naughtier as the night wore on. She’d remembered those things, the little things, and she’d decided she was being hasty. She had promised him a weekend...

  Ramsey’s hands tugged frantically at her robe. As soon as he cupped her breast, she moaned into his mouth and ground on his rapidly-rising erection. When the feel of him through the robe was no longer enough, she untied the belt and parted the halves, allowing him to spring up directly between her thighs.

  As she stared down at his plush tip, standing tall and proud against her mons and belly, she whimpered in anticipation.

  Ramsey caught her lips again, and pushed the robe from her shoulders. When he pulled away, she moaned in protest, but his lips only moved to her breasts, swirling over her nipples before sucking them into mouth and nipping gently.

  Sliding her fingers through his hair, she groaned and rubbed herself against his shaft. At this angle, his hard, thick length was poised directly between her lower lips, and he rubbed teasingly over her clit with each long stroke. When the teasing grew too much, she lifted onto her knees, held him steady and lowered herself. As he stretched her initially, she gasped in both pleasure and pain. Ramsey caught her ass and began to knead, urging her to keep going down.

  She grew a bit too much eager, and dropped a few inches too fast. “Ah!”

  Instantly, she was lifted and opened her eyes to find Ramsey staring at her worriedly. Locking her arms around nick, she pushed up and kissed him before lowering herself again. As she began a steady bounce, he murmured, “You feel so good, baby. You’re always so tight...and wet.”

  “You’re always ready for me. Always ready to—” She broke off to moan when he slid a bit deeper than before.

  “To what?” Ramsey growled, biting her neck, her breasts. “Tell me, baby. What am I always ready to do.”

  She continued to bounce against him even as she groaned, “Always ready to fuck me...suck me...come inside me.”

  His eyes grew darker, if that were even possible. Before she could fathom what was happening, he’d rolled her under him. Ramsey remained still, moving a few inches down to cup her breasts.

  “I love these,” he murmured, sucking greedily at them. “They’re the perfect size...perfect for my hands...my mouth...just perfect, like you.” When his lips crashed down on hers again, Jezebel locked her legs around his waist and eagerly lifted his hips for his hard thrusts. He loved her long and hard, eventually sliding a hand under her thigh to pull it up. He went even deeper after that.

  “Okay?” he asked hoarsely, after she winced at a particularly hard thrust.

  She nodded, but placed her palm against his upper thigh, just in case she needed to stop him from going too deep.

  “Sure?” He released her thigh, and pulled from her body. She cried out, but Ramsey only sat back on his heels and pulled her legs over his thighs. His fingers moved under her buttocks and then she was being lifted—well, her lower body was being lifted. His tongue swiped her, once, twice, before it settled against her clitoris. In this position, she was at a disadvantage—she couldn’t reach up to pull him against her, or push him away, so she did what she could, rolling her hips against his face and moaning his name.

  When he lowered her and thrust back into her quivering sex, she sighed and cupped her breasts. He groaned and she looked up to find him staring at them. Using her fingers, she gently teased her nipples.

  “You are so goddamn sexy,” he growled, gripping her hips tighter and increasing his hard thrusts. She rocked up eagerly, feeling her orgasm coming.

  “You gonna come for me, Jez?” he demanded softly.

  She nodded.

  His thumb was on her clit, circling quickly as his thrusts increased in pace. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock.”

  Her orgasm washed over her, sending her catapulting from her body and into another space. As she struggled to return, his heat splashed her insides. She must have passed out because she awoke to find herself perched on Ramsey’s lap, her legs spread as he used a soft cloth to wipe up the sticky evidence of their joining.

  Jezebel kissed his chest, and looked around. They were in a bathroom—his bathroom. When his bare finger traced her slit, moving too close to her sensitive opening, she grabbed his hand. “Too soon.”

  Ramsey kissed her neck and sounded very pleased. “I know, baby, I just wanted to make sure I’d gotten everything.”

  He lifted her into his arms again and took her to bed. As she clung to him under the covers, feeling sleep’s arms pulling at her, she remembered something, and shook her head. “It’s my cock...”

  “What?”

  “You said ‘come all over my cock.’” She frowned. “It’s not yours.”

  Ramsey chuckled, but kissed her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s yours.”

  “Don’t forget it again.”

  He nipped at her lip, before pulling her tight against him. “I won’t.”

  Chapter 9

  Like clockwork, Ramsey awoke at directly 6 o’clock. It didn’t matter that it was Sunday; his body was never able to sleep past that time unless he was completely worn out, and even then, it was difficult.

  He looked to the sleeping woman in his arms and smirked.

  Why was she always beautiful? Make-up-less, hair sticking every which way, and sleeping, she looked like an angel. If not for the fact that she’d told him she was thirty-two, and he knew she was a successful CEO, Ramsey would have guessed she was perhaps in her mid-twenties, late twenties max. Jezebel had smooth, toffee colored skin that made him itch to lick it, just to see if it was as sweet. He knew from experience that it was actual
ly sweeter. Her face was oblong, with large doe-eyes, soft, full lips, a straight, slightly flared nose and high cheekbones. The first time he’d seen her, he’d been intrigued by her beauty...and her ass. He smirked. Ramsey Stone never considered himself an ass-man until Jezebel’s derriere entered his peripheral. She’d been at one of those SBA events; the first one Ramsey attended. He’d been bored and was just about to leave when they introduced the panelists. From then, he’d been rooted to his seat in awe...and groin pain. Jezebel was not only beautiful, she was intelligent, and had a grace and charm about her that was unmatched.

  The longer he remained beside her, inhaling the sweet musk coming from her body and staring at her profile, the events of last night raced back to him. Last night had been bad. It was their first real fight and he’d been terrified that she’d leave him. Ramsey didn’t get terrified often, but last night, he’d been willing to do anything to make her stay...and she had.

  He shook his head. He wasn’t embarrassed by her, and while he could understand why she’d think that, he’d never before given her a reason to. Ramsey enjoyed accompanying her places. He enjoyed walking into restaurants and events with her on his arm, enjoyed glaring at every male who ogled her to tell them silently that she was his. His family, on the other hand, wouldn’t understand their relationship. Not only was she African American, she had nothing that would make her appealing to them. Yes, Jezebel was beautiful and successful, but beauty was everywhere and the money she had was pittance in comparison to the wealth that had been building for generations in his. He was expected to make a match that would propel them into a different sphere, and Jezebel wasn’t it.

  Having to use the bathroom, Ramsey pushed from his bed, not worried about disturbing her. His mattress had duality, allowing for one set of settings on one side and another set on the other. As such, her side wouldn’t move if he moved. After releasing his bladder and brushing his teeth, he checked to make sure Jezebel was still sleeping, before finding another robe—his robe was somehow wrapped around her—and heading for the kitchen. He was thirsty.

  Ramsey had just poured himself a glass of orange juice when the two distinct clicks in his kitchen alerted him that someone was riding the elevator up. Only two people had keys to his apartment. Vince would never come here unannounced and the other, he’d given for emergency uses. Pulling open one of the higher counters, he stared at the flat screen monitor that showcased a tall, dark-haired man wearing a rumpled suit. Looking directly at the camera, the man yawned and wiped his face.

  Closing the counter door, Ramsey turned to the kitchen entrance, took a hearty drink of his juice, and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. His brother sauntered into the kitchen, pausing briefly to lift a brow as if he hadn’t expected Ramsey to be home. Obviously, Bastian had done this a few times in the past weeks when Ramsey had been with Jezebel.

  Sebastian “Bastian” Stone smiled as his brother frowned. He was three years younger, but people usually mistook them for twins. They were the same height, though Ramsey had always held out that he had ½ an inch on him, but Bastian had closed that slight gap when he reached eighteen. In addition to that, they had the same general build. Both were tall, lean, and had similar muscle tone.

  “What are you doing here?” Ramsey bit out, eyeing Bastian’s rumpled clothing.

  His brother only smirked, and walked around the island to his refrigerator. “You said I could come here for emergencies.”

  At the closer distance, Ramsey caught the scent of smoke, alcohol, and perfume.

  “What’s the emergency?”

  “I need a place to stay...for a few hours.”

  “You have a condo.” Although Ramsey owned and was CEO of The Osiris, Inc., he’d made his brother the Vice President of Marketing, and Bastian had done well in the position...with the help of a superb team.

  “And a wife,” Bastian muttered.

  “And a daughter.”

  His brother tossed him a glare as he lifted a glass of water to his lips. “I know that.”

  “Maybe you should start acting like it.”

  “Stay out of my business, Ram,” Bastian muttered, draining the contents in the glass in one continuous gulp.

  “I would but you keep bringing your business to me.”

  “I just need a shower...and some clothes.” He smirked, revealing dimples. “The usual.”

  “She’s going to leave you, you know.” Ramsey shook his head. “And she’s going to take Lily.”

  Bastian scoffed. “Sarah isn’t stupid. She’d never take my daughter. She knows better.”

  “This is America. She’s going to leave you, take your kid and half of your money.”

  “Worry about the family business—stop worrying about my wife and kid.” He smirked. “You didn’t marry her, did you?” Bastian pulled is shirt from his pants. “Could have. You could have married her and Lily would be yours. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” He chuckled, then sobered slightly to reminiscence. “Sarah wanted you—we all knew it—she was like a bitch in heat after you, Ram...” Bastian moved away when Ramsey put the glass on the counter and took a threatening step in his direction. “...but you didn’t want to marry anyone. No, you were all about your education, and of course, the old man respected that, so she settled for me.”

  Ramsey’s lip curled. “You didn’t have to marry her.”

  “Someone did.” Bastian stumbled as he attempted to walk away from Ramsey. “And you were being a little bitch about it.”

  Ramsey stepped around the island, grabbed Bastian by the lapels and shook him. “That’s enough!” He glared into eyes just as dark as his and read anger, frustration...maybe even hate. His brother was never this bold but the alcohol had given him courage. Sometimes Ramsey wondered if Bastian truly hated him. “You made your choice. You didn’t have to. I told you I’d fix it and you choose her. Sarah’s a good woman and she gave you a beautiful daughter.”

  Bastian shoved at him and Ramsey released him when it seemed his brother was going to take them both to the floor. “I would say ‘fuck you’ but you’d probably cut me off for the disrespect, so instead, I’m just going to say: Mind your fucking business, brother. Sarah’s my wife, Lily’s my kid—get your own and stop fucking worrying about mine.”

  He was about to respond, when Bastian suddenly focused on something over his head. His brows furrowed and he looked at Ramsey, before a large smile broke out across his lips. “Well, hello there.”

  Ramsey almost groaned, knowing who his brother had seen. Turning slightly, he found Jezebel standing in the kitchen’s entrance, one hand tugging his oversized robe tightly around her body as she looked uncomfortable.

  “I didn’t know you had company.”

  “It’s fine.” Bastian stepped past Ramsey to walk to her. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

  “Jezebel.”

  His brother looked over his shoulder at him, and repeated her name in a way that made Ramsey want to throw him to the floor and kick his ass.

  “I’m Sebastian, Ramsey’s brother.” He caught her hand and gently shook it. “So, what are you doing in my brother’s apartment?”

  “Don’t you have something to do, Bastian?” Ramsey asked in a steely tone. He forced a smile for Jezebel, who was staring between the two of them curiously.

  “No. No I don’t.” Bastian leered at Jezebel. “Are you the woman who’s been keeping Ramsey occupied?”

  When she blushed and looked back to him, Ramsey gave her a small, encouraging smile and murmured, “You can wait for me upstairs, Jez. I’ll be there in a few.”

  She looked back to Bastian. “It was nice meeting you, Bastian.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, the pleasure’s all mine,” he drawled.

  As soon as Jezebel was out of sight, and he could no longer hear her footsteps, Ramsey caught his brother by the neck and slammed him into the nearest wall.

  “Shit!” Bastian moaned, wincing and squinting as his back collided with the sheetrock. He was lu
cky the nearest wall wasn’t brick. “That fuckin’ hurt!”

  When his brother only smiled in that silly, drunk manner, Ramsey slapped him. Hard. He wanted his brother as sober as possible for what he was about to tell him. Bastian blinked and then looked confused.

  “Do not fuck with me on this, Sebastian.” Ramsey purposely kept his voice low. “I put up with a lot of your shit because you’re my brother, my blood, but I will fucking kill you myself if you fuck with this relationship. Do you understand me?”

  Bastian blinked at him for long moments, as if confused, and Ramsey, impatient already, slammed him against the wall again. “Do. You. Understand. Me?”

  “Yes!” He winced. “Shit.”

  He glared at his brother long and hard before releasing him. Bastian watched him in confusion, but Ramsey ignored it. “You have an hour to clean yourself up—use the guest-bedroom on this floor—and get out. One hour. And I don’t want to see you here again unless I tell you to come over.” Ramsey moved to the refrigerator and removed a tray of eggs. When he didn’t hear footsteps, he turned to find Bastian staring at him...still confused. “Fifty-nine minutes. If you’re not done by then, I’m going to haul your ass out.”

  Bastian threw up his hands. “Whatever. If you want to play house with some—” He halted when Ramsey tensed, and said, “American...then what-the-fuck-ever. It’s none of my business.”

  “It isn’t.” At least they were in agreement about that.

  His brother was heading from the kitchen when Ramsey called, “Say hello to Sarah for me, and tell Lily I love her.”

  Bastian didn’t respond, but Ramsey hadn’t expected one.

  He moved back to the refrigerator, this time opening the freezer for the bacon. Jezebel loved bacon, especially the way he made it with a bit of special Korean sauce. He found two frying pans, and went to work, scrambling eggs, frying bacon, and making coffee. Next he found a tray large enough to hold two plates, two cups, bowls of strawberries and blueberries...and made his way to the private elevator he rarely used. He didn’t want to spill anything.

  In his room, Jezebel was sitting on his bed, waiting. She didn’t speak as he placed the tray on the mattress, but she watched him curiously.