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Tentatively, I make my way to her room, more concerned about what I’m going to find once I’m there as I peek around the doorway, the lights dim, and the room feeling far too intimate. My heart rate picks up as I find Wyatt, hands oiled up and rubbing up and down on the back of a brunette… but as I look closer, it’s not my brunette—or ours, I suppose.
No, her hair is too light, her body too petite, but the woman beside her isn’t. Luckily for everyone involved, she has an actual masseuse, one who manages to smirk in my direction, her gaze sliding up and down me without so much as missing a wave across Ivy’s skin.
I gesture to Ivy, silently asking if I could take over. If Wyatt and everyone else are at it, why not? But I wait until she adjusts her wrists and cracks her neck before agreeing. Rubbing my hands together, I pour some of the oil on my palm, working it into my skin and warming them up before waiting for her to say so and taking over.
Ivy’s skin is soft and supple beneath me, my skin sliding against hers in a way I never imagined. Rubbing the tension from her back and shoulders is more sensual than I ever imagined it would be, and when the music changes, the masseuse taps on my shoulder, showing us how and where to adjust the towels, pulling the warm fabric over her exposed back whilst drawing it back to give access to her leg.
Talk about timing.
She guides us from the middle of the room on how to work the muscles down the back of her thigh, and all my brain can fixate on is the fact there’s nothing but a barely-there blue bikini between my hands and her pussy. The ties could be undone and the fabric gone in seconds, and she wouldn’t say no, I don’t think.
And isn’t that half of my problem?
I can’t be sure.
I want her. She wants me. But she’s also interested in Wyatt, and Leo, and then God knows how Jacob fits into this tangled mess.
We’ve shared partners before. A bi couple looking to expand their horizons or whatever. I’m not interested in anything with my brother, not my kink, but I have no issue with watching him get his, and vice versa.
Maybe it’s exhibitionist of me, maybe it’s my calmer nature when I’ve got him to temper me, maybe it’s none of those and we’re just connected differently. I don’t know, and I don’t care to dive into it too deeply.
But as I run my fingers up the inside of her thigh, my thumb pressing against the muscle, I’m reminded that I’m nothing more than a breath away from the sweetest place on earth, and it’s almost enough to make me forget about everything and everyone else that wants to get involved.
To forget about the legacy that Jacob and I have unknowingly walked right into. The expectation that a Barrett man will walk out of this victorious. And we will, together. One way or another, I’ll get ahead of this and make sure of it. After all, it’s the reason Wyatt suggested mirroring Ivy with me in the first place, isn’t it?
I questioned him on it, of course.
Why would he suggest it to me rather than taking the opportunity himself? They have a connection, as much as it kills me to admit it, but it pales in comparison, and I think he knows it. Knows that I’d go to war for her.
The massage takes a much less professional turn as I brush my pinkie finger against her core, not just once, but again and again, sweeping up the back of her leg one last time before covering it up and swapping over to the other one.
She tenses as I uncover her left leg, the air slightly cooler than the warmed towels she’s been cosied in, but as I move her leg to the side, drawing it slightly wider than really needed, she leans into it, adjusting her hips to get comfortable.
I swear to God she better realise this is me, because if she’s interested in accepting this from the dazzling woman who’s been guiding both Wyatt and me through this then we might need to talk.
She releases a heavy breath as I work along the back of her calf, flexing her toes.
I’ve never had the opportunity to watch her get turned on, our tryst in the woods like paper on fire, burning hot and fast, gone almost as quickly as it began, but I imagine it would start like this.
I take note as we start again, the oils in the air a heady combination with the way she moves. Her breathing has changed, her toes curling, and then there’s the way her body moves on the upstroke and sags as I trace back down.
I wish I could see into her mind, understand the thoughts and feelings she has right now, make sure it’s me she’s thinking of, but I have no desire to burst this bubble. So, instead, I cover her legs, giving her perfect ass one last squeeze before moving on to her feet.
If I remember rightly, there’s something to do with pressure points in your feet being connected somewhere else… to other things, or places. I’m sure my sister tried to explain it, one time… either way, the tiny moan that slips free from her would have been swallowed up by the music, had it not been for a perfectly timed pause in the beat.
I pause, my panicked gaze flying to the massage woman and Wyatt, but they’re too busy to care, clearly not noticing or giving a shit about what’s going on over here, so long as it looks like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.
Wyatt is way more focused than he ought to be, concentrating on his technique and not in the slightest about Ivy. I guess he’s got to spend the entire day being the saviour, why would he care about this?
The music draws to an end, and the masseuse comes back to show me how to wrap Ivy’s feet in a warmed towel, explaining how they should take a few moments to relax before gently starting to move and making sure to stay hydrated.
“I’ll go grab some bottles of water,” Wyatt says quickly, always the overachiever.
I take a seat on the edge of her bed, watching Ivy stretch her arms out before reaching around to fasten the tie on her bikini top and sitting up. She blinks a few times as her eyes adjust to the dimmed lighting in the room.
“Good massage, sugar?” I ask, stopping her in her tracks as she turns my way.
“Eileen is super good with her hands,” she replies with a wicked smirk.
