Black Heart (Cursed Hearts 1)

She delicately cleared her throat. “Where to?”

Chapter 8

“Detective Black, stop squirming!” Janice snapped as she mauled his shoulder. Tristan buried his face in his office couch and gritted his teeth.

“Gad, that looks like it hurts,” Shayne said.

“Of course it hurts! I’ve got Attila the Hun trying to give me a massage!” Tristan snapped, uncaring at the moment that he was talking to Shayne in front of Janice, the masseuse from hell, and Marty.

Janice's hands stilled. “There’s no need to insult me.”

“Bullshit!” Tristan snapped. “Who the hell taught you how to give a massage? Freddy Kruger? For f**k’s sake, Janice, cut your goddamn nails!” he snapped the last part as she commenced with her backrub.

He wasn’t kidding about her nails. What kind of masseuse had inch long nails with flowers painted all over them? They kept digging into his skin, sending more fire straight into his injury.

“I don’t know, lad, maybe ye shouldn’t keep pissing her off. It looks like she’s being rougher,” Shayne said nervously.

“Ah, Janice?” Marty piped in from her desk.

“What?” Janice asked, not stopping in her assault, ah, massage.

“You’re leaving scratch marks on his scar tissue,” Marty tried to point out quietly.

“What?” Tristan demanded.

Janice squirmed. “Sorry. I have a big date tonight and well,….you know,” she said with a shrug. “I got my nails done this morning.” She placed her fists on her h*ps and said defensively, “Hey, I did you a favor by coming here today. It’s supposed to be my day off!”

Tristan struggled to push himself up, but thanks to her massage, his shoulder and arm were on fire and useless at the moment. Janice moved to continue the massage, but Marty stopped her.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she said. Janice rolled her eyes before she caught the murderous glare Tristan was sending her way. Then she stepped back and noticeably swallowed. Smart girl.

“Ah, I think a gentle rubdown with warming lotion will take care of everything.” She grabbed a tube of lotion from her bag and approached Tristan, hesitantly.

“Ah, lad, I’ve seen this scene hundreds of times in horror movies. This is the part where she skins ye alive and makes a dress out of it. If I were ye, I’d run,” Shayne said, sounding amused.

Tristan threw him a glare as Janice slowly approached him. He opened his mouth to tell her where she could put those fake nails when Marty surprised him by snatching the tube of lotion away from her.

“Hey!” Janice cried.

“I’ll do it,” Marty surprised the hell out of him by saying.

Janice nibbled her lip nervously as she looked from Marty to Tristan. Finally she sighed. “Fine, but someone owes me a hundred and fifty dollars for this visit.”

At that, Tristan managed to push himself up, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and arm. Janice yelped and jumped back, grabbing her bag and headed for the door. “You know what? On second thought forget about it!”

He was still going after her when a small warm hand pressed against his bare chest. It stunned him enough to halt his pursuit and allowed Marty to gently press him back.

“Sit at the desk. It will make it easier for me,” she said as she squeezed some lotion in her hand.

The idea of Marty running her hands over his body sent a very different fire through him. A thousand past fantasies raced through his head, all of them making him break out into a sweat.

“That’s not necessary,” he finally managed to say.

Instead of listening to him like anyone else would have done, she shook her head and gently pushed him towards his chair. Not sure what else to do, Tristan threw Shayne a pleading look.

“Sorry, lad. I’d let her if I were ye. I’d do it myself, but I’m not yer bitch,” Shayne said with a wink.

Tristan discreetly flipped him off, earning a chuckle. “Good luck, lad. I’m off,” Shayne said before he faded out of the office.

“I don’t want to hurt you, so let me know if I’m being too rough, okay?” Marty said as she gently touched his shoulder.

He groaned as she began to carefully massage his shoulder. Her hands stilled immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it felt good,” he said, feeling like a moron.

“Okay,” she said as she returned to massaging his shoulder.

Tristan tried to focus on something else, anything else as her hands moved over his shoulder, back, chest and down his arm. Her hands felt so good on him. He soon found himself closing his eyes and just enjoying it.

*-*-*-*

Marty forced herself to relax as she ran her hands over his body. Well, not his entire body, unfortunately, but enough to fulfill several of her old schoolgirl fantasies.

Over the years she’d given a guy or two a massage, but they hadn’t felt this good to touch. Granted, Tristan had his shirt off and those guys hadn't. She was amazed at how hard his muscles felt beneath her touch, but still smooth. It was nice. This was nice. She smiled when she realized that she was getting paid for this. Yeah, this was such a hardship running her hands over the hard muscular body of the best looking guy in town.

Poor her.

She couldn’t help herself as she slowed her movements down so that she could enjoy exploring his body, at least, the areas that she was allowed to touch. He was so warm and firm. She ran her hands over his biceps, smiling as his muscles quivered beneath her touch and then moved her hand over his chest and nearly moaned as his small flat nipple hardened. Was it supposed to do that?

As she massaged his body, she took advantage of his eyes being closed to further examine his tattoo and wound. The tattoo on his chest was darker than she’d originally thought and was sexy as hell. She enjoyed running her fingers over that. Apparently he did too if his groans and moans were any indication.

Her eyes moved to the scar on his shoulder. The one on the back was larger than the one on the front. She realized after a moment that it was the exit wound. It must have hurt. Well, of course it hurt, she thought, feeling like an idiot, he’d been shot. She skimmed her fingers over the angry pink skin and frowned at the light scratches Janice had created with her fake nails. Anger surged through her knowing that someone had added to his pain. Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.

*-*-*-*

Tristan gripped the edge of the desk until he feared that his fingers would snap off when he felt her warm soft lips press against his shoulder. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his raging hormones. The last thing either one of them needed was him jumping her. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He could really go for it, but he was pretty sure that she might get upset.