Thursday, October 26, 2006

Last Resort by Sally Painter

ISBN # 1-4199-0746-8
Last Resort Copyright© 2006 Sally Painter

By Sally Painter

Unemployed Emma Trent can't believe her dream job as masseuse of a luxury island resort just fell into her lap. There's one thing the agency didn't mention—the resort caters to vampires! She meets resort owner Alex Masters and reels. Alex is the mystery lover she's been spending all her nights with — in her dreams.

Alex built the resort as a way for his kind to experience a "day at the beach". But even the grand opening of his greatest achievement is overshadowed by the ache in his soul for one woman — the sensual woman who's been tormenting his dreams with a taste of the love that has so far eluded him. When he meets the new masseuse, his libido kicks in with a vengeance. His dream woman has dropped out of his dreams and into his life. For a vampire this encounter means one thing—she's his eternal mate. He didn't count on Emma being mortal though—a deadly quality on an island of hungry vampires!

Unable to deny it's more than overwhelming passion drawing them together, Emma's faced with an impossible decision — choose between her fear of death or her love for Alex.

“Get a grip,” she whispered and reached for the doorknob. The room was as she’d left it, with numerous lavender-scented candles flickering against the pale walls and the large jar of decorative marbles. The anxious, jittery feeling in her stomach matched the erratic heartbeat pounding in her chest.
He’d folded his clothes and laid them on the nearby chair, placing his sandals properly beneath the chair and out of the pathway. She focused on the massage table and gulped. He lay naked with only the narrow towel he’d drawn across his buttocks, which stopped midthigh. The sight of his long muscular legs sent a new blaze of heat roaring through her. She took a deep breath and one step forward.
“Are we ready to start?” His muffled voice struck her, sending a wave of excitement streaking through her.
“Yes.” She managed to keep her voice level and retrieved the bottle of massage oil from the cabinet. “Do you have a preferred style of massage?”
“What kinds of massage do you know?” he challenged and suddenly she felt as though she were being interviewed. It was a disturbing switch from his earlier seductive manner to this very managerial tone.
“I’m a registered MT, Mister Masters. I’ve been studying massage since I was twelve. My mother taught classes. I know Craniosacral Therapy, Deep Tissue Massage, Esalen Massage, Swedish Massage, Pfrimmer Deep Muscle Therapy, Neuromuscular therapy, Jin Shin Do, Hakomi, Trager Psychophy—”
“Damn,” he interrupted, speaking from the face cutout with his voice falling to the floor. “I guess we’re more than getting our money’s worth with you. I’ve heard of most of those, had a few of them, what do you recommend?”
“Where are you having pain?” she asked.
His chuckle left no doubt in her mind where his pain was located and she quickly poured the warmed oil into her palms, rubbing them together. Donning her most professional manner, she waited for him to answer.
“My neck is very stiff,” he breathed.
“Yours and the other two before you.” She splayed her oily fingers over his back. Hard muscles flinched beneath her initial touch then relaxed. His skin warmed against her hands as she worked the oil across his back, kneading into the resistance. “Just take several deep breaths and try to breathe with each stroke I make. That’s better. I can tell you work out regularly. Exercise is a great tool for coping with stress. I imagine you’ve had a lot of stress preparing for today.” She tried to make her voice lower than normal, blending into the atmosphere of the massage room. She was a professional and used to men becoming aroused during the relaxation and tactile sensations of a massage. It was normal, but she also knew how to prevent it from becoming a problem. With Alex, she wasn’t so sure she could because the arousal was mutual.
“So which did you choose?” his deep voice bounced from the floor.
“Deep Tissue Massage,” she breathed and moved her hands in long slow strokes, applying direct pressure across the grain of his back muscles. He moaned and she pressed harder, finding the stiff areas and probing into the deeper layers, working the muscle tissue slowly and deliberately. “Breathe through any discomfort. If it becomes painful, tell me. I don’t want to give you pain, just release—ah, from the stress,” she said, and clamped her mouth shut, realizing how her words could have been interpreted.
She worked along his upper back and shoulders, applying various hand positions and strokes to help manipulate the muscle tissue until it grew more pliable beneath her fingers. “Deep breath, hold and now release.” She breathed with him and felt the effect of his breath immediately as the muscles relaxed.
He sighed as the tension in his back released. “You have hands of liquid warmth.”
“Thank you.” She dipped the bottle, poured a dab of oil directly onto his back and worked it up the center, massaging his spine in circular motions all the way to his neck. With long slow strokes, she pulled the muscles down into his shoulders. Instantly a heated excitement slipped past her control and rushed over her abdomen, trailing anxious quivers to her pussy. He was a client, she reminded herself. Focus on the muscle groups. Neck muscles. His muscles became rigid against the kneading.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed and relaxed the pressure of the strokes. “You seem tender right here. Just breathe with the strokes. Long, deep breaths. Hold. Release,” she breathed with him once more and again the tension drained from him.
“Ah,” he sighed heavily and relaxed with a deep groan. It was a sexy, satisfied groan, like the groans he made in her dreams when he came. He groaned again, rich and deep, filled with male satisfaction. Her clit throbbed and she squeezed her legs together, trying to relieve the pulsing, but it throbbed harder. Her breath was a sharp intake.
“Is something wrong?” His words were muffled.
“N-No.” She decided they both needed a distraction and conversation was usually the best way. “May I ask you a question?”
“Certainly,” he groaned again.
“I’m curious about your hotel.” Her hands glided over his muscles, massaging his flesh, cupping it between her hands and then releasing.
“In what way?”
“Well, I notice that you have all the patios screened off and the big dome building on the beach appears to be constructed of the same kind of screening.”
“I just find it odd that a hotel in a tropical paradise would block the sun from its guests. I haven’t seen anyone lounging on the beach. And not one person with a tan. I don’t think there’s even a tanning bed in this spa.”
His muscles constricted and he rose up on his arms. Emma took a step back. Okay, so questioning him was a huge mistake.
“I think we need to talk. I was hoping to put it off until my massage was finished, but you deserve an answer to your questions.”
“I was just curious.” She looked away as he sat up, drawing the towel over his lap with his legs dangling over the edge of the massage table. Once more, she was amazed at how immodest men were. Vignettes from her dream flashed through her mind. Alex making love to her, pounding his thick cock into her—it was impossible to look at him without seeing him kissing, stroking or fucking her. The need to press her lips against his threatened the rigid control she held over her body. Every nerve ending responded against her will with heated pulses cascading over her. She tightened her fists by her sides and took another step back.
“Please understand it wasn’t that I asked Felix to deceive you, although I did give him permission to hire someone like you. But he should have told you upon your arrival so you would be prepared and protected.” He clasped his hands in front of the towel wrapped around his waist. The movement pulled the material taut and his hard cock protruded against the terry cloth. She forced herself to look away with the sexual hunger coiling up her spine, sending so powerful a heated need to her pussy that she leaned against the cabinet and crossed her legs once more, trying not to squirm against the throbbing. This was not going to work. He looked just like the man in her dreams and she wanted him.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” she trembled. The soft sensual flute music breathed across the room as though pulling the delicate scent of lavender with it.

0 comment(s):

Post a comment

<< Home