Page 71 of Entirely Yours
“Come in,” I call, clutching my chest to calm my racing heart.
He does just that, closing the door behind him.
Without a word, he comes in and collapses beside me on the bed. I brush his hair out of the part of his face that I can see.
“Long day?” I ask.
“Mmmm,” is his only response, face too smushed in the pillow to say anything else.
“Need a massage?” I wave the tool uselessly in the air.
“Need you,” he mumbles.
Oh. I can work with that.
He rolls over onto his side, smiling slightly as he takes me in. “What were you doing with this thing?”
Jules turns it back on, running it slowly up and down my thigh. “Ugh, I decided to go to the studio earlier, but now I’m paying the price.”
“I know.”
“You know…?”
“I mean, I saw you ogling me through the shop window earlier, looked like you’d been dancing for a while,” he replies, adding a wink for good measure.
“I was not—” He turns the massager onto the lowest setting and digs it into my leg, effectively silencing me. “Fuck, that feels good. I’m so sore.”
“I’d like to make you sore in other places.” He looks up through a fan of thick eyelashes. “Please.”
My hand finds the back of his head, tugging on the elastic holding his messy bun in place. “You’re always so polite with me.” I scratch my nails across his scalp. “Always such a good boy.”
Yeah, second trimester has made me a certified horndog.
A rumble works its way up his chest as he climbs over me, the massage gun slowly inching higher and higher up my thigh.
“I can be a good boy if you promise to be quiet.” His lips find the juncture of my neck, sucking lightly as he works his way down. At the same time, the massager finally reaches my clit, applying firm, consistent pressure through my shorts.
“I don’t think this is one of the recommended uses from the manufacturer,” I whimper, followed by an audible moan when it hitsjust right.
“Then they are really missing out,” he replies.
The relentless vibrations are about to tip me over the edge, but right before I can get there, Jules pulls the massage gun away, much to my disdain. “Come back!”
He nips at my nipple through the loose T-shirt I’m wearing. “Some adjustments, first,” he replies, helping me into a seated position. He makes quick work of removing my shirt and sports bra, then drags me to the edge of the bed, placing several pillows behind me so I’m not flat on my back.
Once he seems satisfied—I let him fuss over me to his heart’s content—he kneels on the ground before me, propping my legs over his shoulders. “Where were we?” he asks before placing the massager directly back on my clit.
“Fuck!” I’m trying to be quiet but he’s making it difficult.
“Shh, Rosie girl. Remember your promise.”
“I didn’t promise anything,” I counter. In response he promptly removes the massager. “Nooo,” I moan. “Fine, I can be—” I don’t even finish before it’s back, accompanied by a soft pinch to my nipple.
“Jules,” I whisper. “I’m so close.” He can tell, too. I see his hips working as he seeks some friction against the edge of thebed. His hair is hanging loose around his shoulders, and he looks like some sort of fallen angel. Ethereal. Worshipful.
It’s that vision that sends me over the edge. My legs are like a vice around his head, my body convulsing with the sudden onslaught of pleasure. “That’s it, baby. Ride it,” he encourages.
And I do. But it’s not long before I needmore. “Your dick,” I plead. “I need you.”
