A few deep breaths made Lacey feel composed enough to speak, even though she wanted to scream and rant and rave. Chance had managed to turn her into nothing more than a piece of quivering flesh. She sure wasn't going to let his manipulation of her body go any further.
Back rigid, Lacey stalked across the room to once again grab the appointment book off the desk. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, Chance, but my ten o'clock is with..." Her words trailed off as she noticed the changes made to her schedule.
Ted Snider, the fireman who had a running ten o'clock on Tuesdays, had been scratched out and replaced with the initials CSB. The whole day's lineup looked the same, the only difference being a variation on the initials. Lacey felt the absurd need to give in to a bout of nervous laughter.
Looking over to where Chance lay on his stomach, propped up on an elbow, she asked, "What does the S stand for?"
He lifted a bushy brown brow but remained silent.
"CSB, your initials. What does the S stand for?"
She looked like a woman on the edge, making Chance wonder if he'd pushed too hard too soon. He wanted nothing more than to pull her to him. To take her tiny body in his arms and find out whether or not she'd be able to take the whole length of his steel-hard cock or if he'd have to be extra careful. But from the looks of her, that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon.
"Samuel," he said, burying his face back into the cutout of the massage table. "Remind me and I'll tell you about it sometime. Right now I want one of the special massages I've heard so much about."
He wasn't lying or trying to stroke her ego, although stroking anything remotely connected to Lacey Winslow worked for him. He'd actually heard all about her magic hands, about how her clients left feeling both relaxed and rejuvenated. He wanted to hear the sound of her sultry voice as she hummed her way through a session. It was one of the many things the folks in town talked about.
Chance heard her move and felt her presence long before he felt the first tentative touch. Her touch didn't stay tentative for long, though. A well-placed jab to the ribs made him jump.
"What was that for?"
When he tried to lift his head, she leaned into him with what felt like a pointy elbow, giving him no choice but to stay put.
"I don't like being manipulated and I sure don't like your high-handedness. If I'd wanted you as a client, I would have accepted you the first time you walked through my door."
Chance couldn't see her face but she sounded damned mad. He could just imagine her eyes flashing with every word she spat. Would the mounds of her perky little breasts be heaving in indignation?
"You gave me no choice, Lacey. I've laid it all on the line. I told you I wanted you and planned to have you, nothing has changed. I'm a patient man under most circumstances. This isn't one of them."
This time she pinched him in retaliation. His hand shot out and grasped Lacey's wrist. "Enough, Lace."
Her voice shook when she finally spoke. "I'll give you your damned massage because if I don't, I'll be out the cash, but after today I don't want you around, Chance. I can't do this again."
The last of her words met his ears on a breathless whisper, causing him to wonder if he'd made the right decision by confronting her.
Her hands once again feathered over his skin before quickly learning the layout of his back and shoulders. The way her fingers moved across his back and down to his lower waist had him moaning in aroused pleasure. The thought of her pumping the length of his cock just before taking him into the warm recess of her mouth sent his senses reeling. If Chance wasn't careful he'd make a mess of both himself and her massage table.
Soon she was making chopping motions with the edge of her hands, loosening the muscles along the way. When finished with that task, she poured some type of warm oil down his spine. It felt thick and smelled heavenly, just the way he imagined she would taste when he finally got his face buried between her thighs.
The thought of using her own massage oil as lube for the small anal plug he planned to buy her brought Chance's arousal to a peak. He could picture her body writhing beneath his fingers as he prepared her. She would be scorching hot and tight, begging and pleading for release long before he was willing to grant her wish.
All coherent thought vanished as Lacey began to work on the muscles of his neck. She was strong for being so small. Chance was powerless to protest his lack of control as her thumbs pressed deep into the tissue, milking the muscles she found there just as he dreamed her tight pussy would milk the solid length of his cock.
It seemed only seconds had trickled by before Lacey stopped and yet, from the illuminated numbers of his digital watch, Chance was surprised to find it had been thirty glorious minutes of feeling her hands on him, kneading the muscles of his back until he felt as if he could slide from the table in a boneless heap. The thought of getting up seemed like cruel punishment. Chance said as much.
"Too bad, time's up."
Lacey stood at the connecting door, her arms crossed in front of her. She was preparing to bolt. The realization brought all languid thoughts screeching to a dead halt. She wasn't going to leave. He wouldn't let her.
Chance sat, then lowered his feet to the floor. His jeans were still unfastened, his chest still bare. He had more important things to worry about than dressing. He had to figure out a way to keep Lacey from walking through the connecting door and locking him out.
"Your next appointment is in thirty minutes. I'll see you then if you insist on continuing with this fiasco."
Chance chose to ignore her sarcastic words. "Have lunch with me instead."
His thinly veiled command must have hit a nerve because instead of responding with a smile, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "No."
Lacey didn't even hesitate with her answer. Chance fought to hold back a disapproving roar as she reached for the knob.
"Open that door and I'll have you over my knee before you know it."