Hands On (Bride of the Billionaire)

“Right. Because I’m here by choice.”

“You were here by choice yesterday,” I remind her.

“For a job interview!”

“Was the kiss a part of the job interview?” I chuckle as

Jennie snaps and angrily twists up and onto her side, revealing her body in all its glory.

Perfect.

My mouth waters at the sight of her plump, young tits, perfectly shaped with little pink nipples that call to my lips. I run my eyes down her flat stomach to her healthy hips and then down…

…down to what’s between her legs. Perfectly shaved, pink, and glistening with arousal. A pussy I would die for.

“What are you implying!?” she asks. “That I kissed you to get the job?”

“Not at all.” I smile. “I know you’re not that kind of girl.”

“You’re damn right I’m not,” she replies.

“Then why’d you kiss me?” I ask. My question seems to catch her off guard. She frowns, then realizes she’s completely uncovered and quickly flips back onto her stomach. As she does, her cute butt jiggles, causing me to groan. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to fuck her from behind.

“Just do whatever it is you want to,” she tells me. I’m about to make a joke but think better of it.

Whatever I want to do? Well, who am I to argue with instructions like that?

5

Jennie

I should be furious. Way madder than I am. But for some reason, I’m not. In fact, I’m not sure if I’m even mad at all…

Sure, I’m indignant and defensive. Who does he think he is to accuse me of trying to seduce him for the job? But am I mad at what he’s done to get me here?

The more I think about it, the more I don’t think I am.

I’d like to think it’s more than just the incredible massage he’s giving me right now. Sure, his hands are magic, as good as any CMT massage I’ve had before, and his pheromones have me going crazy, but am I really that shallow? I mean – this guy basically forced me to come here against my will. I should be furious!

But I obviously have no choice in the matter. If I can’t work at Melissa’s, I need to work here. It’s either that or go broke, so while I’m here, I might as well try to enjoy myself.

I take a deep breath and do my best to relax. Grayson’s hands move down my spine to my lower back. This is usually the part where the person giving the massage tickles the person receiving the massage by wrapping their fingers around the person’s sides while they apply pressure with their thumbs. I’m shocked when Grayson avoids this mistake entirely.

He positions his hands perfectly, and as he presses down with his thumbs, I’m unable to stop the groan of satisfaction that pushes its way out from my lips.

“That’s the spot, eh?” he asks, obviously proud of himself. I’m honestly flabbergasted. We women always meet men in our lives who are eager to please and willing to do almost anything to get our attention, but it’s never good-looking billionaires who could have any woman they pleased.

“Not bad,” I reply. I’m already giving away too much; I’m not going to give him any more.

I hear Grayson chuckle gently to himself as he moves down, dangerously close to my booty. This is the part where I stop him or tell him to switch to another part of my body. But for some reason I don’t. My stomach is buzzing with excitement, and my toes are tingling with anticipation.

Am I on the receiving end of a happy-ending massage right now?

His thumbs move down, press against the spot right where my lower back and booty meet, but just as I’m expecting him to move down and give me the best butt massage of my life, he switches it up completely and moves his hands to my ankle.

Oh, what the hell!

Now I feel like an idiot for getting all excited over nothing.