Free The Masseuse by Violette Dubrinsky

right back at her side.
    “I told you what you need to do to ease the ache, Jezebel.”
    “Ramsey!”
    “I love how you scream my name,” he murmured, smiling down at her. “I also love how you whimper, moan, and groan when you’re close to the end.”
    She moaned at his words, unable to control her reaction.
    “Are you close?”
    Jezebel didn’t know but she needed him to touch her. “I can’t—I can’t take it.”
    His hand moved to her sex again. “Tell me what you want, Jezebel.”
    “Touch me.”
    “Here?” His fingers stroked her over her mons, caressing her skin with feather soft touches.
    She shook her head. Tease. “Touch my clit.”
    A finger stroked over her bud and she resisted the urge to clamp her legs together. It was so sensitive. “Like that?”
    “Yes...please. Do it again.”
    He did, but halted yet again.
    “Ramsey!”
    “Tell me what you want me to do, Jezebel.”
    “Do it again, and again, touch me until I come.”
    “Ah. I see.” She barely caught sight of his grin before his other hand pressed over her lower belly and mons, and his finger began to strum. Like a guitar, he played her, his fingers working soft and strong, before increasing its pace until she was nothing more than a ball of shuddering muscles and shot nerves. After her orgasm, he drew a towel over her body. His lips grazed hers. She sighed when he moved away.
    Within moments, the sounds of nature accentuated the sounds of the falling water in the room. She opened her eyes to find him holding a remote in one hand. “Relax, Jezebel. Close your eyes and relax.”
    She nodded, only too eager to do so.
    Her sister had said that Bryan—whoever he was—gave the best full-body massages. She was wrong. Ramsey Stone clearly was at the top of his game in this department.

Chapter 6
    “Your sister tells me you’re seeing a masseuse.”
    Jezebel’s head snapped up and she glared at Delilah, who was suddenly preoccupied with her glass of water and empty plate.
    “Oh, come on, Jez. Why can’t she tell me? I’m your mother.”
    Wisely holding her tongue about the last part, Jezebel instead bit out, “I’m not seeing anyone.”
    “You know, just because you’re the CEO of a company doesn’t mean you can’t date a masseuse.” Ilyana’s lips pursued in a slight frown as if she didn’t expect that type of attitude from her older daughter. “What does wealth matter? It all comes down to your sexual and emotional capacity in the end.” Light brown eyes warmed. “I’m glad you’re having sex again, Jez.”
    Delilah laughed, but quickly covered it with a cough.
    “I was worried about you for a while after that whole Kirk incident...”
    Shaking her head, Jezebel knew she should be prepared for these types of things happening around Ilyana Holbrook’s dining table, but no matter how old she got, she couldn’t get there.
    “Mom, I don’t think this is the appropriate place to talk about my sex life.” She didn’t think anyplace was appropriate, but her mother would disagree. At seventeen, when she’d stumbled upon sex with her boyfriend, she’d come home to find that she was bleeding. Being naïve and unable to simply run a Google search as the internet was barely functioning then, she’d thought something was wrong, which led to her confession to her mother. Ilyana simply pulled her to her bosom and began talking about the joys of womanhood and sex. Jezebel was amazed she hadn’t been scarred for life.
    Her mother looked around and shrugged. “There’s no one here but us girls.” She chuckled. “Oh, Jez, you act like sex is a dirty topic. It’s completely natural you know.”
    Deciding she’d heard enough, Jezebel pushed her chair back and began collecting plates from around the dining table. She heard them calling her name as she made her way from the dining room into the kitchen, but refused to stop.
    She didn’t want to talk about Ramsey, and she certainly didn’t want to talk about him to her