“Goddammit,” I hiss, following behind her.
The esthetician holds the door open for Remington, her eyes raking down my body as I walk inside the dimly lit room. Men have a lot of fantasies, and I’m sure a million-page novel could be written for how many different ones there are. For me, if I were the type of man to think of girl-on-girl action, it wouldn’t include the second woman having an interest in me. She’d need to focus all of her energy on pleasing the person under her fingertips. The way this woman looks at me as she gives instructions to Remington about undressing and draping the sheet, makes my skin crawl. Honestly, I’m grateful. Surviving would be impossible if she ignored me like I was a sneaky voyeur.
“This is a bad idea,” I mutter as the esthetician leaves, closing the door behind her.
I spin around, facing the wall when she lifts the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head. I didn’t move fast enough to keep from seeing her bra, the see-through mesh fabric leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Why are you taking your fucking shirt off?” I hiss, the poster of a woman in a bikini on the wall doing absolutely nothing for me. Hell, how could it when the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen is standing just a few feet away?
“I’m getting my underarms done, too. I want everything fresh and smooth for my party.”
Doesn’t she know there’s no point? I’ll kill any man that gets close enough to even notice her fucking underarms. And below the belly button? Over my dead body.
See? I can’t even think straight where she’s concerned. Somehow in my head, I’ve convinced myself I own her in some way. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Planning an orgy for your birthday?” I snap, irritation like I’ve never felt heating my blood to its boiling point.
She chuckles, but I don’t spin around. I know what’s required for this appointment, and Remington has never been shy about showcasing her body. Seeing everything would tip me over the damn edge. So, I continue to face the wall, grasping onto thin threads of sanity.
“I’m not sitting outside of a room and listening to you get plowed by some frat guy.”
I want to murder this imaginary man already.
She laughs again. “Don’t be silly. You’ll be the one plowing me after my party.”
And… instant erection.
“Remi, that’s—”
“Ready for me?” The esthetician shoves open the door without knocking.
I’m grateful for the interruption. Denying her is growing harder and harder, and honestly, watching her face fall each time it happens has begun to make the words dry on my tongue more than they should.
“Almost,” Remington says. “Just need to get these panties off.”
“Up on the bed and spread wide for me.” The other woman hums her approval. “You always have the smoothest skin.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, both hands reaching up to grip the back part of my neck.
Then it all goes to hell. I notice a flash of white from the light she plans to use for her work, only it glares off the framed bikini woman in front of my eyes. A distorted view of Remington on that damn table is staring right back at me.
I take a step to the side, but it only makes it worse—or better, depending on your viewpoint.
Most of the glare is gone now, leaving the image behind me almost a mirror reflection of what’s taking place. With knees wide, Remington holds her legs open, her face directed toward me.
“I’m going to wait in the hall.” I reach for the doorknob.
“Is that window unlocked?”
The esthetician chuckles, revealing that this isn’t the first time she’s worked with my little escape artist.
“Remingt—”
Her moan has the power to take me to my knees. Wasn’t waxing supposed to hurt? That was not a pain-filled cry. Not even close.
I don’t watch the reflection but closing my eyes as the woman continues with strip after strip, moan after moan, isn’t possible either. I stare at my shoes, hyperfocusing on a scuff on the left toe for an eternity.
“Let me get some cooling gel on there and we can do your legs next.”
Her fucking legs? We’re going to be here all damn day, and there’s a good chance I’m going to walk out of this room with jizz in my damn pants.
“Oh, that’s so cold. Rub it faster.”
I bang my head against the door, and they both laugh. I want to cry in pain when Remington moans, “Mmm, that feels so good.”
***
“Would you fucking stop that?”
Remington laughs, but doesn’t stop swirling her hips as we stand in line at a very busy deli.
“I love the way it feels. So soft.”
She twists again, a wicked grin on her lips as she looks up at the menu board. She’s wearing leggings, so it isn’t her legs she’s rubbing together. Fuck me.