Page 45 of Lesson In Honesty
Violet laughed. “Oh my. Perhaps you should check at reception and see what’s on your file. From memory, full service includes much more than what you’ve already experienced.”
His head jerked up. “What? Like what?”
He could tell by the look on her face she was trying not to laugh again. Pressing her fingers to her curving lips, she tried to appear thoughtful while composing herself. “Well, I believemassages are part of the package—male or female therapists on call twenty-four-seven.”
Oh yeah, Tris would get a fucking kick out of that, he thought dourly. A surprise visit from a masseuse—sorry, male massage therapist—and being told to strip? Tristan’s sense of humor ran along those lines like a train cruising down the track.
“Evander made sure we have a complete medical team on staff. Personal physician visits can be arranged for anything from a hangnail to a heart attack.” Eyes brimming with laughter, Violet tapped a finger on her lip. “Then there’s the alternative health and welfare team—they’re more holistic and believe in the power of natural healing. Herbal teas, reiki, enemas…”
Now he almost catapulted off his chair. “You’re shitting me!”
“Evander wanted Serenity to be an experience for all its members.” Spreading her hands wide, she shrugged her shoulders. “That means catering to all walks of life. For what a membership costs, he can afford to hire the best in every sector.”
“Enemas?” he hissed. “Voluntaryenemas?”
“What’s the matter, Mack? Never had something thick and firm shoved up your tight ass before?” Biting her lip now, she snickered.
“No, and I’m not starting with a tube and a gallon of warm fucking water!”
“Shame. Aside from the health benefits of a regular colonic, I find it amazingly sexy to watch.” A twitch of her eyebrow suggested she was imagining bad things, possibly with him in the starring role.
“Shit. Don’t tell me you like torturing young, virile men?”
Another, throatier laugh. Evidently delighted with him instead of taking offence at his blurted question, she cupped his cheek and smiled at him with an innocence she didn’t possess. “Virile, yes. Young, I have a limit on. Men, most definitely. I don’t play with or fuck anyone under the age of twenty-five, and then it’sonly if they’re mature and responsible enough to comprehend what they’re getting into when they sign up for this.” She swept her hand down her body in an elegant gesture. “I’m not a cougar. I have specific needs and wants in my partners that the younger men haven’t acquired. I appreciate the stamina, though.”
“Quality over quantity?”
“Skill over speed. Technique is always a bonus; sex that lasts an hour might sound fun, unless you’re on the receiving end of an endless, monotonous, missionary fuck.” She smiled, catlike, and hummed in her throat. “Creativity goes a long way, Mack. I think the longer you spend with Sierra, the more you’ll discover that yourself. Like how to keep track of her when she’s making a beeline for the door, as an example.”
What? Whipping his head around, Mack cursed and bolted after Sierra as she giggled sleepily, tottering her way toward the doors leading to the bitterly cold elements outside. Dressed only in a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt that was clearly too big for her, she’d freeze before she made it halfway to wherever she was going.
He nearly mowed down another Little as the boy waddled in front of him, thumb tucked in his mouth, eyes half closed. Mack caught enough of a glance at his face to recognize him from the Little sleep pile before he dodged him midstride, then leaped like a clumsy ballet dancer over the heap of unoccupied beanbags blocking his path.
He landed awkwardly, then his next step set his foot on a discarded toy—something with wheels, he thought as his boot skated along on top of it and almost sent him sprawling on his back.
Somehow, blessed by whatever miracle, he regained his balance before he ended up like roadkill.
Oblivious to the carnage behind her, Sierra toddled along. If she’d had a blanket in her hand, it would’ve been dragging in her wake.
He snatched her up as she reached to push against the door, spinning her around as he fought to catch his breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’drun; his forays in the gym when he had time didn’t prepare his lungs for bursts of speed.
He made a mental note to find a treadmill.
“Where do you think you’re going, pixie?”
“Want Daddy cuddles.”
“I bet.” Resting his hands on her shoulders, he gave her his best sympathetic-slash-stern frown. “Daddy Liam’s working, pixie, remember? He can’t cuddle you right now. Why don’t you save them all up for later?”
Ah, fuck, that was the wrong thing to say to a tired, barely-awake Little. His gut twisted as her bottom lip began to tremble, her eyes wide and sad and, oh fucking hell, shiny with tears.
“Daddy cuddles?”
He’d handled his team on the cusp of a mental breakdown at deadline time, he reminded himself. Tired, fractious adults pumped up on various forms of caffeine, propping their reddened eyes open with cocktail sticks to stay awake, while tempers snapped and raged.
One Little couldn’t compete.
Until a tear rolled down her cheek and she knuckled it away.