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“Oh, yeah. I mean, yes. I think so. Monty?”
“The strawberry lemonade is sweet and unexpected,” Monty agrees. “I think it’s my favorite too.”
“Great! One thing to check off our list as done,” his mom says excitedly.
Monty
The couples massage is literal torture.
I’ve never been a fan of them. It’s odd letting a stranger touch you so intimately.
Sort of like how odd it is to let your assistant feed you cake and stealing a tiny taste of her skin in public, and in front of your mother.
Being naked in front of my assistant with only a small towel covering the underwear I insisted on keeping on is not ideal either.
Especially since Kendall is right beside me, moaning softly every so often while naked under her towel.
Her eyes are closed with her face turned toward me, but I don’t think she’s torturing me on purpose. Just as I begin to relax, I hear her soft mmm, and of course my mind immediately goes into the gutter, making lying face down even more uncomfortable.
Are those the sounds she makes when someone kisses her? Touches her? I keep finding myself wondering what it would take for me to pull that sound from her and it’s driving me crazy.
I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do when the massage is over, and I have to stand up. My boxer briefs are so obviously tented that everyone down on the beach will know what’s on my mind.
“How are you doing over there?” Kendall asks without opening her eyes.
I have to unclench my teeth to answer her. “Fine.”
She peeks one eye open to stare at me. “You don’t look very relaxed. In fact, you look more tense than usual.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Monty,” she says in that knowing way. “Are you mad at me?”
The hands on my calves momentarily pause as the masseuse waits for my response to Kendall’s question.
“You’re mad I said I liked the chapel so much, aren’t you?” Kendall goes on to say.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” she replies. “I didn’t want to like it. I was all ready to call it a shithole that needs a new coat of paint or that it looks like it could fall into the ocean any second, but standing inside of it was just…magical.”
“I know.”
“So, you’re getting married in the chapel?” Kendall’s masseuse asks.
“Well, my grumpy fiancé doesn’t seem very impressed, so I guess we’ll have to keep looking…”
Suddenly my back is being beaten with the side of the woman’s hands over my liver so hard I nearly jolt off the table.
Kendall giggles at my discomfort while the woman tries to bruise me.
“Gotta love the deep tissue massage,” Kendall says.
“Uh-huh,” I mutter.
“So, are we having dinner with your mom and Richard again tonight?”
“No. It’s just us.”