Page 21 of Whiskey Splash

embarrassing than me trying to describe the angle of my cock to you.”

I take a deep breath, certain that I should resign, change my name, and move to another continent.

“Alright, uh…” I grab a towel from the table and wipe off my hands. “Okay, fair warning, I’m turning around now.”

I do it swiftly, keeping my eyes on the ceiling until I’m fully facing him.

“My cock is not on the ceiling,” Desmond cracks, and I flush, heat blooming over my chest.

“Of course, I know that,” I snap haughtily, forcing my eyes down in one swift motion.

Desmond is on his back, propped up on his elbow, and staring at me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was enjoying this. My eyes flick away from his face down to the sheet and—

Yes, there’s a sheet covering him, but—

He’s pointing straight up and creating a significant tent with the sheet, and from the looks of it, his whole “ten inches” joke from last night is less of a rumor and more of a calling card.

So, yeah—really fucking aroused—and then some!

I purse my lips together and try to keep calm, even though my clit is pounding and I can feel his eyes on me, gaging my reaction. When I said this happens sometimes, what I really meant was that occasionally a client will flip over and have a slight chubby. It’s never like this. They’re never fully hard! But Desmond is standing at attention like he’s ready for me to climb onto the table and—

“Okay…” I say hoarsely, our eyes connecting.

Desmond Pike is fully aroused. The heat in this room is insufferable. And the intensity of his gaze seems to declare:This is what you do to me!

I’m waaaaay out of my league!

I whip around again, showing him my back, because I seriously can’t face him when he’s half-naked, erect, and giving me those bedroom eyes.

“Wow, it’s that bad?” Desmond teases.

“No Desmond, it’s fine! Your, your—”

“Oh man, little buddy,” he says, addressing his own member. “She only called youjust fine.”

“Are you kidding, Desmond!” I snap, so damn flustered. “Are you seriously looking for me to comment on your ten-inch cock? I mean, cock-double, my ass!”

“That’s not a real thing.”

“Well, even if it was, you obviously don’t need one!”

I hear him laugh.

“Right! Well, you’re welcome,” I say haughtily, annoyed now. “Congratulations, you’ve got a huge cock!” I shake my head, just trying to get through this. “If you could focus for two seconds, here are your options: One, we can stop the session right now. Two, I can step out and give you a few minutes alone, and then come back in after you’ve …” I hesitate, realizing that, yup, I just told him he could masturbate.

“Do you have warm towels for that?” he quips, and I know he’s egging me on now, but I decide to keep with the formality.

“Absolutely, sir,” I toss back angrily. “That wouldn’t be a problem.”

“You’re calling me sir, now?”

“Or,” I continue, pushing on, “I can continue the massage as is and avoid—” I catch myself, realizing how charged it would be to touch him again, but I need to salvage this situation. “And I could avoid …the zone.”

There’s a long pause as he contemplates his options.

“You realize,” he says in a low voice, “you can’t even turn around and look at me, so I’m pretty sure option three is out.”

I spin on my heels, pissed off and sick of him trying to undermine me at every turn. “Stop being such an ass, Desmond!” I march up to him and slap a hand down on his chest. “I have no problem finishing the massage if that’s what you want!”

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