Page 34 of Breakaway Goal

I let out a whiny groan. If it had occurred to me that I’d have to actually turn my head to take the medicine, I’d have told her not to bother.

My neck feels so tight as I turn it to the side, I’m surprised it doesn’t make a creaking sound like an old, rusty door hinge.

“Geeze, Rhys,” Maddie says after I’ve swallowed the pills. “Your neck looks all knotted up.”

“Can I give you some advice, Maddie?”

“Sure,” she answers on a sweet, soft laugh.

“Don’t try to compete against Hudson in who can do the most dumbbell shrugs.”

She laughs louder. “Wow, thanks for the wisdom. I was actually planning on doing just that tomorrow, but now I’ll reconsider.”

I let my gaze quickly flick up and down her to take in what she’s wearing. Faded, roomy blue jeans paired with a more form-fitting white t-shirt. I bet when she stands up, there’s a sliver of smooth, creamy skin exposed between her beltline and the hem of that shirt. Maybe enough of one to spot her cute belly button. My cock twitches at the thought.

Then my cock twitches a lot harder, because Maddie reaches out and gently rests her soft palm right against the muscle that hurts the most, just below my neck to the right.

She presses her fingertips lightly, kneading into the tight knot, and a wave of relief floods through me.

“Fuck,” I groan.

She instantly pulls her hand away. “Sorry, did that hurt?”

“No,” I rasp, missing the soothing pressure of her fingers. “It felt good. Do it again.”

“Like this?” she asks, the pads of her fingers delicately pressing into the thick, corded muscles around my neck.

“Yes.” The word is a satisfied moan rumbling from my chest. “Keep going.”

She uses both hands now, using more strength and pressure as she massages my swollen, stinging muscles. My eyes flutter closed as relief ripples through me. I don’t know how the hell Maddie learned to give a massage like this, all I know is I feel like I’ll die if she stops.

I wince as the pad of her thumb digs into a particularly sensitive muscle, but I know it’s one that needs the attention she’s giving it.

“Should I go softer?” Maddie asks, sensing how I tensed up.

“No,” I answer, my voice still hoarse and thick. “Harder.”

I sigh in relief as the ministrations of her fingertips unknot my muscles. The pain clouding my head starts to break up. Slowly, my sense of relief is replaced by another feeling: the pleasure of feeling her warm, soft hands on me.

My cock swells. My lower abs clench. Fuck does it feel good to have her hands on me.

“You’re so tight here,” she says, her voice sharp with concentration. “Maybe if I …”

My heartbeat pounds like a fucking hammer at the base of my shaft, because Maddie Larsen is hooking her leg over me and mounting me from behind to have a better angle to roll her fingertips into my muscles.

Her legs are straddled over my ass, her body weight resting against me. Heat roars through my bloodstream, desire pounding heavy like a drum between my legs.

It takes every single ounce of self-control I can summon not to rock my hips forward, seeking any friction I can. Now the ache isn’t in my back and shoulders, it’s throbbing mercilessly in my loins.

I should tell Maddie I feel better now; tell her she can stop. But I can’t bring myself to do it.

My self-control frays. I roll my hips forward. The friction as my pelvis pushes into the couch cushion sends white-hot pleasure streaking through me.

“Is this good?” Maddie asks, bending forward to put more of her body weight into the massage.

“So fucking good,” I rasp.

It’s the very last thing I should say in response. Now I can’t stop thinking about being on top of her, rocking my hips forward into the blissful heat between her thighs, moaning those very words into the soft shell of her ear.

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