Page 26 of Sinful Promises

Jonas and I made idle chitchat, and it was an interesting thing that I could have a conversation with a man whose cock was resting on his thigh in front of me. Then again, everything about this place was interesting. I couldn’t wait to tell Zali. Maybe I’d even tell Roman. That would shock the pants off him.

I liked that idea.

Telling him that was. Not shocking his pants off. Although . . .

Rebecca returned with three tumblers on a tray. The glasses contained a lush red liquid, and the rims were coated in what looked like brown sugar. We each took a glass, and I was surprised that the drink was warm.

“This is a traditional drink here,” she said. “It has Jägermeister, mixed with red wine, plum brandy, spices, and juice.”

“Bloody hell.” I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m going to be off my face.”

“Yay.” Jonas laughed, and the three of us raised our glasses.

“I’ll drink to that,” she said.

Despite its potent ingredients, the flavors went together so well. It was delicious. Being warm made it as easy to drink as hot chocolate, and the second we finished, Jonas was ordering us another round.

By the time the staff member came to tell us our Schlammbad was ready, I’d finished my second Jägertea and felt all warm and fuzzy on the inside. I had no idea what a Schlammbad was, but the way my two new friends were grinning at me had me equally nervous and excited.

We hung our towels and robes outside a wooden door, and Rebecca handed me a bowl containing a dark paste.

“What is it?”

“Mud.” She opened the door.

“Oh, okay.” When in Germany . . .

The room was just big enough for the three of us to move around freely. The walls were all polished concrete, as were the seats that lined the edges. They set their bowls down and grabbed a hose each. I did the same.

Not wanting to look like a dork, I tried to copy everything they did. For starters, we unhooked the hoses and spent a minute or so wetting ourselves. The water was the perfect temperature—not too hot to make me sweat, and not too cold to make my nipples lethal weapons.

Rebecca squirted me.

I blinked at her and when she burst out laughing, my jaw dropped.

Right! Two could play at that game. I blasted her with my hose, and rather than turnabout, she faced me and wobbled her boobs. Pretending I was unfazed, I aimed my hose right at her nipples.

Jonas must’ve felt lonely cause he joined in. Maybe it was all that alcohol, or maybe it was my crazy new friends—probably both—but the next second, all three of us were blasting each other like a bunch of naughty schoolkids in a locker room. It was stupid and fun, and special. Straitjacket kind of special, but I didn’t care.

I was in Germany. I didn’t know anybody. And I would probably never speak to my new friends again. So, let’s do this.

Bring it on.

Rebecca and Jonas hooked up their hoses and reached for the bowls of mud. Copying them, I began pasting the mud onto myself. It was soft and smooth like a thick hand cream and felt so nice as I plastered it up my arms.

Jonas eased in behind me and began applying the mud to my back.

“Oh.”

Rebecca turned around in front of me. “Can you do my back please?”

“Oh, sure.” Damn it. My ohs have returned.

Jonas worked his magical hands over my skin, and I smoothed mud over Rebecca’s back. But when Jonas eased his rear toward Rebecca, completing our circle, my mind came to a screeching halt.

I was in a daisy chain.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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