Excerpt from Trapped

A light touch glided across his back. It was a caress but so gentle it was barely there. Sebastian Fletcher shivered, enjoying the feel of the expert hands working their magic on his skin and muscles. Fingers trailed lightly up and down as they played across his torso, like an artist swirling warm oil paint across a canvas.

Then the young woman began to work him in earnest, kneading his muscles and pounding them when necessary. She was a natural at this, inherently sensing where he was tense and what would most please him. It was obvious she was well trained and experienced, but it went deeper. Sebastian presumed that she was intrinsically empathetic. Like the very best submissives, she wanted to please and instinctively knew how to serve. He’d encountered this in therapists before, but rarely. He gave himself over to her superb ministrations.

First his upper back—she worked him, occasionally soliciting feedback. “Please let me know if I’m too rough. If you want a lighter touch…” she murmured. Even her voice was honey soft, enhancing the warm, lazy cocoon that enveloped him. The room was nearly dark. A light, earthy music soothed his ears.

“It’s fine,” he returned, sounding muffled, his face buried in the circular pillow holding his head. “Amanda, is it?”

She murmured concurrence.

Her hands moved down to his lower back. The young woman continued to alternate a soft, sensual caress, which seemed to be her signature warm-up, with a harder pounding that would work the knots out of his muscles, knots earned on this waste-of-time business trip to the colonies.

Sebastian snorted…realizing his Europe-centric mind-set was half the problem. The United States of America was no longer the property of Great Britain, and he’d been overconfident thinking he could breeze in and dictate his preferences with these potential business partners.

It had been a tiresome week of meetings, resulting in the conclusion that Atlantic City was not the place to launch Club Exotica’s first U.S. location. He’d try Las Vegas next, or maybe even go outside that city to a county where prostitution was legal, as it was in England. Not that Club Exotica offered that service, exactly, but there were certainly times when “happy endings” were offered, ones like this that were pure, orgiastic sensation.

Sebastian sighed. That wouldn’t be happening today.

“Sir?”

Her tentative voice stirred him. He was a Dom, after all.

“Sir, I feel bad that my service yesterday wasn’t satisfactory. I want you to know that today’s massage is on the house.”

“What?” Bass raised himself up on his elbows so he could look at her. “What are you talking about?”

Meeting his incredulous stare, she raised her chin a little. “I take my profession very seriously, and if a ninety-minute massage wasn’t enough to work the kinks out, then I must have done something wrong. So I’ll try again and won’t charge you. That’s all.”

Bass liked this woman. Her looks. Her professionalism. In fact, everything about her. But he had to stop himself from grinning, knowing it would reveal something else entirely.

Kinks.

If she only knew what that word meant to him. He’d happily work out kinks with her, every possible kind of filthy, dirty, sinful kink. But the woman sweetly named Amanda looked way too innocent for his needs.

Strangely, something in him wanted to reassure her. “I appreciate your commitment to your work. Very admirable, but I have absolutely no complaints about yesterday.”

“Oh! Then why…I mean, most people don’t get another massage the very next day.”

“I own a club with a spa in it and was doing research. I get massages everywhere I go. You know, checking out the competition.” She didn’t look convinced. “To be honest, yesterday was all about work, but I enjoyed it so much that I came back. Today is just for me.”

It was a bald-faced lie, but she seemed to like it, a pretty blush lighting up her cheeks. “Thank you. That’s kind.”

Bass lowered his face back to the pillow so the woman could continue, but he felt like a bloody idiot. He’d come back for one reason only—to see her again.

Amanda Jones. He even liked the solid American name.

But it made no sense. He didn’t chase women. They chased him. And gave of themselves to him in every possible way. That was how it was supposed to be. Not this irrational need to see a complete stranger again for no reason at all.

Her massage yesterday had worked out all the kinks, save one. And he knew that one wasn’t going to happen. He might be in a casino spa, but this woman radiated professionalism.

So why am I here?

Bass had no idea, but he kept telling himself it was because of her expert massage skills.

She applied more warm oil to his back, and he felt her hands gliding over his skin, working his muscles.

Push. Roll. Flatten.

Glide back and repeat.

Bass sighed audibly from the pleasure of it.

Push. Roll. Flatten.

Glide back and repeat.

Her fingers wandered down farther, and he shivered. She was at that point just above his ass, the super-sensitive apex nestled between his cheeks. His most erogenous spot. His groin tightened. He stifled a low moan.

It wouldn’t be the first time a massage gave him a hard-on, but he was not in Club Exotica, he reminded himself. Worse, he might embarrass the young woman who stood over him, just doing her job. Her amazing hands left his back for a moment, and he heard her getting more warm oil. It gave him a moment to take a deep breath and try to get his libido under control, but he quickly realized it wasn’t going to work.

Bollocks!

He had no interest in looking like every other bozo businessman at a conference trying to get his rocks off from the services of a pretty young masseuse.

When her oil-warmed hands returned, she started to work his hamstrings, rolling and kneading the firm muscles and sliding up between his thighs. Just one more inch and she’d be caressing his balls. His entire pelvis tightened from his buttocks through to his cock, and he grunted in his effort to refrain from moaning.

“I’m sorry. You must be ticklish there,” she noted in a light soprano.

“Harder,” he ordered, sounding harsh. Sucking in a calming breath, he restated, “I mean, feel free to work my muscles firmly. They’re still stiff from traveling.”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was washed over him like an angel’s breath.

Shite!

Did she have to sound so much like one of the many submissives that routinely submitted to him in his club? But she did begin to apply a rougher touch, becoming more forceful, aggressive even, in her movements.

It helped. Some.

It would be far easier if she weren’t so pretty, so deliciously sweet, a fact he’d been trying in vain not to notice. Her body was displayed to perfection in that skimpy casino costume she wore, a sort of clingy toga. He could make out every perfect line of her willowy body. He’d been struck from the first moment he saw the young woman by the sight of her shapely, delectable thighs below the miniskirt. She had legs that went on forever, legs created for wrapping around a man and holding tight while fucking. For holding him tight.

But it was her contrasts that made her so extraordinary and alluring. While she practically screamed sex appeal, at the same time she gave off an opposing aura. Her all-American, girl-next-door quality enticed him. A delightful find in this casino of iniquity. Pure. Angelic. The exact opposite of the cosmopolitan women of his London circle. They’d eat her alive back home, but here she’d own him body and soul—if he let her.

It was a moot point, of course, since no woman owned him. He didn’t let them get that close.

“Sir, would you please turn over now onto your back.”

When she held the sheet up, looking away, Sebastian realized she’d never massaged his arse, and suddenly he wanted to feel her hands there. The devil in him made him ask, “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

“What?” He raised his head to see her face, and she was looking down at him, slight confusion apparent. “Is there something more you need, sir?”

Again, her silken voice jolted parts that should not be jolted, but Bass was past caring. Lust infused his body and consumed him in a way that hadn’t happened in a very long time. He stared her straight in the eye. “I’m not from around here, but in Europe the full backside is massaged.”

Her earnest eyes stared back, and she nodded, but her expression remained puzzled. No, wait. He could read just a hint of wariness. “Never mind. It’s okay.”

“No, really. What part of your body did I miss? I’m happy to do it over again. Or did you want your buttocks massaged?” She stood there, sheet held up, peering at his face, waiting for clarification. “Please, it’s the motto of the casino that the massage isn’t over until the customer is satisfied.”

“Well, in London at my club, massages always include the arse, but it’s fine. I know things are different in the States.” He watched her closely and delighted in the soft flush suffusing her face.

“Of course.”

“It’s fine.” He started to flip over.

“No, I’m perfectly capable of doing your ass.” He grinned, and her soft flush exploded into a scarlet blush when she realized how it sounded. “Massaging your behind, I mean. So, lie back down. Sir.” The last sounded surprisingly like a command.

He smiled to himself as he followed her instructions. Amanda has spark! I’d like to play with that, he thought, his smile broadening.

But he’d teach her some manners, because subs never talked like that to Doms, and he recognized a submissive when he saw one. He’d bet his share of this month’s club earnings that Amanda was a natural submissive, whether she knew it yet or not.

He settled down to enjoy the stimulation—both mental and physical. It felt like he was getting to know her personally, from just their brief conversation and also from the feel of her hands learning his body. Lying flat on his belly, his ongoing boner pressing against his abdomen, he waited for her hands to touch the skin of his arse. Taut with expectation, he wondered if she would go through with it.

Slowly, almost sensually, she dragged the sheet off one cheek.

She adjusted it to preserve his modesty, as if assuming he’d want to shield himself from her view. He didn’t.

Amanda’s delicate fingers then pressed the edge of the sheet between his cheeks and gently traveled down the crevice. His groin clenched as even more blood flooded his already throbbing cock. He willed her to go all the way to his balls, but she stopped short, leaving them aching for more.

After applying more oil to her hands, she touched his naked arse and caressed the skin lightly as she’d done with the rest of his body. He gritted his teeth against moaning, but he couldn’t stop the reflexive, telltale clenching of his buttocks.

Her fingers instantly lifted from his skin. Had he embarrassed her already, or was she laughing at his foolishness?

He refused to look.

Then he lost it and groaned out loud…as one solitary, feminine fingernail dragged down the crack between his cheeks, skipping lightly over his anus, to swirl on the über sensitive flesh just behind his balls. His entire body tightened and shuddered. He groaned, again.

Shite!

He whipped his face up to look at her. Amanda was smiling down at him, not in triumph but with a knowing look in her eye.

Never had a young thing got the better of him so quickly and so easily. He was instantly her slave. He’d do just about anything to turn the tables and regain his mastery…