Hotel Indigo by Aubrey Parker
Release Date: September 13th 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance
At the luxurious Hotel Indigo, the staff is attentive and the heat is always on.
Between her father's funeral, stress from work, and her mother's guilt, Lucy White has hit her boiling point. Something's got to give, so she books a room at the exclusive Hotel Indigo spa to let it all go, and leave her worries behind.
Dark and brooding Marco is Indigo's best masseur -- always in demand, always under pressure to "make the ladies feel good." According to the boss, Marco's pay depends on talented hands and loose morals, but lately Marco has had enough. He'll take one last high-paying client, then leave his tired past behind.
But paradise has other plans for both of them.
Once Lucy checks in and falls under Marco's strong touch, she just may never check out.
I should leave.
I start to move, but Marco’s hand shoots out and grabs me by the wrist. “I don’t like how you made me feel today.”
Now I’m flustered. Panic rising. But I don’t squirm like I want to. My body is responding in ways it shouldn’t, watching him watch me.
“I’m sorry. If I embarrassed you or got you in trouble, it wasn’t because—”
“That’s not what I mean.”
His hand is on my leg. I’m wearing a skirt, and the hand moves higher.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Because I want to. And because you’re letting me.”
“What if I said to stop?”
“Then I’d stop.”
I watch his eyes. I say nothing.
“If you’d let me stay this afternoon, I’d have taken your panties off, too.”
“To give me a better massage?” I can hardly get the words out. My eyes are everywhere. Heartbeat in my throat. Every pulse of blood makes me throb, clouds my vision.
“To put my fingers inside you,” Marco says.
“You can’t do that.”
“I can if you let me.”
“I wouldn’t have let you.”
Marco’s hand inches higher. It’s under my skirt, on my sensitive inner thighs.
“Is that how you operate here?”
“No. There’s a line I can’t cross.”
“Where is that line?”
Marco’s finger finds the crotch of my panties. He pushes it aside and a digit slips inside me. I realize I’m soaking. There’s no friction until he hooks the finger a bit, causing me to twitch and involuntarily bear down. A tiny whimper slips from my lips.
“It was right there,” Marco answers.
His finger moves inside me. Then a second slips in to join the first. I moan.
“What I said before, about you being afraid of taking risks. It was presumptuous.”
His fingers are still moving. It’s hard to speak.
“Don’t apologize,” is all I can manage.
“I’m not apologizing. It was presumptuous and true. It’s something I shouldn’t have said, but someone needed to say it.”
“Because you’re fucked up. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be alive.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know you’re about to come.”
I try to deny it, but it’s true. I’ve heard that a lot of girls don’t have a G-spot, but I sure as hell do. Marco’s got his fingers hooked around inside me just right, rubbing that little smooth spot I can’t bend my wrist far enough to hit on my own. It’s like he’s been with me for ages, but no — he’s found my hot spot right away, on the first try.
Pressure builds. I want to hold out, just to prove him wrong. But his index finger continues to tease that little interior bundle of nerves and I want to rotate my hips just so, to let it happen.
I can’t do this. Not right here in the lobby.
But I do. And I have to lean into Marco as I come, practically biting him through his thin white tee to keep from shouting out.
I flinch back. I’m too sensitive now, so I push his hand away.
“Again,” he says.
“Again,” he repeats.
“There’s no again.” Even with Aaron there was never an again.
But his hand is back. Making me flinch, too much touch.
“Take my cock out.”
The sensitivity in my clit recedes. His words thrill me. I keep looking around the lobby, but nobody’s come into view. We can’t do this here. A picture would go straight to the tabloids. I’m a public face. And now he’s pushing that public face toward the giant bulge in his pants.
I find myself unzipping him, wondering what in the hell I’m doing.
But his fingers sliding back inside me feel amazing.
And his thumb, which has found my clit, feels even better. I’m already rising again. I wonder if I can come twice. I’ve heard about it, but I’ve always been too busy with life to try.
“Suck me off, Lucy,” Marco says, as I remove his shaft and gaze at the smooth head, the drop of liquid already at its tip. I wrap my hand around his stone-hard cock and feel it throb against me. “Make me come in your mouth.”
I must still be a little drunk.
Because I do it.
And the minute his hardness is between my lips, Marco begins to roll the ball of his thumb more rapidly across my clit, sending arrows of sensation down my legs, through my ass, up my spine. I want his other hand on my tits but I won’t ask for it.
I’m not that kind of girl.
I’m a responsible person, who always gets things done.
Marco’s cock is already twitching as I suck it, as my hand moves along its impressive length. I run my free hand along his stomach, feeling his hard abs. I could count them all as I work. As he sends me into overdrive.
But then he slows just a little. My orgasm abates.
“I want to come with you. I want you to swallow me when yours hits.” His thumb moves. His fingers rub. “Tell me when,” he says.
I move my mouth on his shaft. Frenzy builds. I want him to fill me up. My very center aches for him. I suddenly want Marco to pull me out of my seat, prop me up on the cushion, and enter me from behind. I want his hard cock slamming into me. I want his balls slapping my pussy, his body jarring against my bare ass. I see it as Marco works my slit, as I suck his cock.
I clench. And I manage to whisper, “Now.”
It begins, the second orgasm much bigger than the first. Marco groans under his breath and I feel his cock throb hard in my hand and between my lips. Then my mouth fills with warmth. I suck breath through my nose, short on air but unwilling to loosen my lips. Our simultaneous orgasm must only take a handful of seconds, but then it’s over, and my mouth is empty and still wanting him. Marco’s big chest heaves, his cock still leaking a drizzle of fluid.
He straightens. He shrugs me away so I sit upright, and both of us compose ourselves.
“Better,” he says. “But you still need to learn to relax.”
I take this in as every muscle in my body goes limp. As I taste Marco on my lips.
“But it’s okay. Because I’ll teach you.”
I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.