Page 14 of Six Month Wife
Once I hear him settle onto the table and the movement stops, I head back in.
His back is insane. Broad shoulders taper into a V of pure muscle, like he was carved from stone. I nearly drool. My professionalism is hanging by a thread.
“Ready?”
“Work your magic. I should say, I do tip well.”
I smirk as I reach out to touch him. The spark that flies up my arms almost takes my breath away. I wonder if he feels it too.
I start working on his shoulders, and within seconds, he lets out a satisfied groan that makes me throb between my legs.
“Good?” I ask, feeling a little proud.
“Better than good,” he murmurs, his voice a bit muffled against the pillow. “Amazing.”
I move to the side of the table, focusing on his shoulders, but he turns his head slightly, watching me through hooded eyes.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now,” he says with a rough voice.
I pause. Funny enough, he has no idea what he's doing to me right now. But I keep that to myself. I’ve done this a thousand times. He’s not the first hot guy to end up on my table.
But something about him, the taut pull of musclebeneath my hands, the quiet tension in every breath, makes my body tighten with a sharp, unbearable need. It's like I'm bracing for an impact I know will be the death of me..
It’s even more intimate when I reach the top of his firm rear end. I’ve performed all types of massages, but a “happy ending” massage is a big no-no. If there were ever a time to break that rule, though, this might be it.
“You must spend a lot of time on your feet. Your lower back’s so tight,” I say, mostly to justify why my hands are creeping lower. I knead along the edge of the sheet, digging into the tops of his firm glutes like it’s part of the job. Just because I'm enjoying it doesn't mean it isn't part of the job.
He lets the air in his lungs go slowly. His eyes are still closed, and his voice is relaxed.
“I’m probably going to regret asking this, but… is your boyfriend going to come after me for enjoying this too much?”
I blink, caught off guard. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
"Oh, really?”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
He shrugs and moans again as I put pressure on his lower lats. "I guess I expected someone so beautiful and accomplished would be taken."
I laugh under my breath, but my pulse kicks. “You're smooth, Dr. Matthews. I'll give you that.”
He groans, letting out a low and guttural sound, and shifts slightly. “Damn, you’re good at that.”
“VIP service,” I murmur, smoothing my hands up his spine one last time, pressing my forearm along the trough of his back.
This is probably a terrible idea, but I keep going wherethe moment is taking us. “Roll onto your back when you’re ready. I’ll work your shoulders and pecks from the front.”
He doesn’t hesitate and flips over in one fluid motion, causing the sheet to slip.
And then he’s there. Naked, fully exposed, and yeah, his cock is hard and at full attention. And now, so is my breathing. I try to look away.
I don’t.
I guess I’m not the only one feeling it.
I nearly stumble back from how fast the intensity floods through me. My breath catches. This happens sometimes. It’s normal, involuntary.
But my reaction isn’t normal. This is all him, the raw, primal effect he has on me.
