Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Why not?” Colton asked.
Under the blindfold, my eyelids fluttered, and I bit back a groan. I wanted to ignore my followers and the two men in the room with me and just enjoy the delicious sensations. “Can it work on my lower back again?”
Brad moved in to change the settings, and I could feel him hovering over me. The scent of something woodsy caught my attention. It smelled good. Maybe it was pine? I nearly moaned again, but he was too close, he would’ve heard it.
His strong hands reached around me as he adjusted the chair. Then a section of the back of the seat slid away. A moment later, those strong, talented robotic fingers pressed into my lower back.
“And it’ll all be automatic when the product is finished?” I asked.
“This kind of thing will be done by remote, yes. The seat back has different sections that can slide in and out of place.” The warmth of his body moved away, and I felt a brief moment of disappointment.
When he spoke again, it seemed like he was several feet away. “It’s a bit of a balancing act, literally. We need to make sure the user has enough support that they’ll stay upright, but on the other hand, we don’t want to make the chair too big or bulky.”
“Sign me up when it’s available for sale.” I didn’t often have to pay full price for tech, but this would be worth any price.
“You’ll be the first to know.” That was Colton, over by the computers.
I closed my eyes again, even though it was unnecessary because of the blindfold. But the way the machine was kneading my lower back was heavenly. Its thumbs, if that’s what they could truly be called, were tracing up and down either side of my spine, and it was as if they were drawing out every ache and pain I’d ever had in my lifetime.
It was my job to keep up a running commentary for my viewers, but it was hard when I felt this good. Still, I tried. “If I had a machine like this, I’d be the happiest woman in the world. No bad days. No bad moods.” I chuckled. “I’d be a regular ball of sunshine all the time.”
Brad laughed too. “So no attacking your fellow influencers?”
“What?”
“Just saying, it seems like at times in the past, you weren’t, what’d you call it? In the mood to be a regular ball of sunshine. You’ve got quite a sharp tongue when you’re in a less sunshiny mood.”
“What are you talking about?” I had a feeling I knew, though.
When he spoke again, his words weren’t directed at me. “Can you pull up that exchange I showed you before?” Obviously, he was talking to Colton.
Shit.
I couldn’t hear anything over the music, but I visualized Colton typing on his keyboard, his long, dark hair hanging down his back.
“I think I found it,” he said.
Double shit.
When Brad spoke again, he was over by Colton. He raised his voice so I could hear. “Yeah, that’s it. As I said, quite the sharp tongue, Ms. James.”
“It’s my job,” I said nonchalantly. Or at least I hoped that’s how I sounded.
“And you’re good at it,” Brad said. “You eviscerated some guys who have some kind of how-to channel.”
My eyes closed under the blindfold. This was why I hated working with amateurs. They always went off script. I needed to figure out how to regain control of this broadcast—but it was hard to think with the incredible sensations the massage machine was providing me. I didn’t want to think; I just wanted to enjoy the amazing feelings.
But Brad wasn’t backing down. He gave a low whistle. “You called them unprofessional hacks who wouldn’t have any female viewers at all if they weren’t handsome.” There was a pause, and I hoped he was done—but apparently, my luck wasn’t in today. “You called them morons. Amateurs. And other choice words,” he added.
Colton chuckled. “Maybe we should give you this machine as a service to the public, Ms. James. To keep you from lashing out.”
I wanted to tell them that I didn’t lash out. At least not usually. That had been a one-time thing. Or, okay, maybe a three- or four-time thing. But only against that channel. Something about those guys had rubbed me the wrong way.
As I was trying to find a way to defend myself without sounding defensive, a muffled noise startled me, temporarily distracting me.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Colton said.
“It came from the hallway,” Brad countered. “Our new employee is moving into an office down the way—it was probably just a box bumping against the wall.” The noise came again, but then the music increased. The melodies flowed through the room, entering my ears and increasing the dreamlike spell the massage was casting over me. My irritation with Brad and Colton was hard to hold onto when my body felt this damn good.