Blitz & Giveaway : Hotel Indigo

Hotel Indigo by Aubrey Parker

Publication date: September 13th 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance

At the luxurious Hotel Indigo, the staff is attentive and the heat is always on.

Between her father’s funeral, stress from work, and her mother’s guilt, Lucy White has hit her boiling point. Something’s got to give, so she books a room at the exclusive Hotel Indigo spa to let it all go, and leave her worries behind.

Dark and brooding Marco is Indigo’s best masseur — always in demand, always under pressure to “make the ladies feel good.” According to the boss, Marco’s pay depends on talented hands and loose morals, but lately Marco has had enough. He’ll take one last high-paying client, then leave his tired past behind.

But paradise has other plans for both of them.

Once Lucy checks in and falls under Marco’s strong touch, she just may never check out.

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Marco’s face is impassive. He’s sitting on his stool like a lord, bare-chested, big arms crossed. His dark eyes are watching my body, making no attempt to hide his blatant staring at my chest.

“What did you say?” I ask.

“You heard me.

“Your note just said to be here. You told me to bring my swimsuit.”

“I did. Now take it off.”

I’m trying to summon anger. I don’t know why, but I can’t. Embarrassment is the closest I can come. The way we’re arranged is familiar: I’m like a patient up on one of those paper-lined exam tables and Marco is like a judgmental doctor.

Got yourself into a sticky situation, have you? I imagine him saying. That’s what you get for taking a strange guy in your mouth.

“Do it, Lucy. I won’t ask again.”

I need to storm out of here. This guy is bipolar or something. The first time I saw him, he was shouting and raising a scene. Then we had that botched massage, where he decided to psychoanalyze and presume to know me. I had to make him leave. Then he wants me, and I let him take me. After that, breakfast on a silver platter, accented with a fresh lily. And now this—these demands.

I’m Lucy White. Nobody tells me what to do.

But I don’t hop down or storm out.

Marco doesn’t flinch. His hard, dark eyes keep boring into me. I want to be angry, but can’t be. My mind is on last night, when Marco told me I couldn’t relax, then said I was doing better, before promising that he’d teach me how to relax even more.

The pressure inside me. The way every little movement brushes my clit’s hood against my suit bottoms. I’ve never felt so hot. All I can think of is rushing back to my room to take care of myself.

But instead, swallowing and looking away, I move my hands down and hook my thumbs under the strings at my hips. I glance up at Marco, see him watching intently and perhaps a bit impatiently.

I look away again, lift up just enough to slip my suit bottoms underneath me, then slide it down with my knees clamped together. After dropping my suit to the floor, I sit with my hands in my lap, cold and exposed.

“Now spread your legs.”

My joints don’t want to move. I insist, and my knees finally part a fraction of an inch. I force things to keep moving until I’m sitting there normally, legs neither open nor pinched closed, hands still in my lap. Marco is lower than me, looking up. Unless I reach between my legs to cover myself, he can see the lips of my pussy, and probably the wetness beading my skin.

“You’re not doing as I asked, Lucy.”

“Maybe if you said it nicely.”

He looks annoyed. “I don’t want to be nice to you right now. Just do it.”

I don’t know why, but I follow my orders. My legs open wider, and I watch him take me in, hungrily.

“Touch it for me.”

So I do. Because my hands want to go there, they do so easily.

The first touch is electric. It’s all I can do not to gasp.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says. “Your pussy is so beautiful.”

Should I say thanks to that? I close my eyes, try to forget this is happening, wondering how big of a mistake I might be making.

“Close your eyes. Let go and feel it.”

I do. And it doesn’t take long. Once the sensations start to steamroll, I can’t hold myself back. My ass is clenching. My pussy is gripping the tips of my fingers, so I plunge them inside and work my clit with my thumb.

I come with a gasp, juices gushing.

When I open my eyes, Marco is standing in front of me. He’s taken out his cock. Its tip is less than an inch from my quivering pussy. I can feel its heat melting into my own.

“Do you have a condom?” I ask.

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

“You want me to stop?”

I look down. I see a drop forming on the tip of his cock. He’s so close, I can imagine what he’d feel like inside.

Like I’ve been imagining since last night.

Since my massage.

Since the first time I saw him.

I grip his cock and pull him forward until he’s inside me. He fills me completely—but the sensation is too much all at once. I gasp.

Marco groans. His breath purrs against my neck. He nibbles at my ear, hungry.

“You feel so good,” Marco growls, his lips brushing mine. “My cock feels so good inside you.”

I close my eyes. I wrap my arms around him, but find I can’t reach. He’s too big. Too broad.

As he thrusts into my pussy, I feel the flex and swell of every muscle on his back.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you harder.”

My head tips back. My mouth opens. I’m lost in ecstasy. I couldn’t speak if I wanted to, but even if I could, there’s no way I’m saying that.

“Tell me. Tell me you want me to fuck your pussy harder.”

I’m all panting, all spasming, gripping sensation. I can barely think as I come again.

“Say it, Lucy!”

But I’m crying out, too loud, sure to be overheard. This is a cabana, not a room. The walls are canvas, not drywall or concrete. It’s one long, delightfully torturous orgasm and it goes on forever. And ever.

Finally, he grips me tight and slams into me with force, tipping me further than I knew I could go. I fly up to a new level, barely able to breathe. Marco is coming inside me and I feel our rhythm change, the thrusts wetter, a warm sensation leaking down the crack of my ass.

I feel warm as I return to my body, and my eyes find Marco’s face. I want to smile, but he looks disappointed.

“You failed that lesson,” he says. “So we’ll have to do it again.”

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.

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