Page 46 of Bad Habit
Seven
Mac
It took every ounce of strength I had to watch Faith walk through that bedroom door without me, especially when she looked back over her shoulder with a mix of fear and excitement in her eyes. She always looked beautiful, but in that baby-blue dress, Faith was a knockout. Even with that yellow sweater covering up her shoulders and arms, she’d turned heads in the mall and lobby.
I’d explained some of Faith’s situation to the personal shopper, and even if Jessica’s lingerie selections had been equally conservative, I couldn’t wait to see Faith in a bra and underwear, not to mention naked.
I drained a beer, trying to ignore my throbbing cock. All I’d done since I’d met Faith was hold myself back, and to hear her ask me not to?Fuck. I rubbed my erection, wondering if I should jerk off before my massage. It was bad enough that I didn’t want to offend the masseuse with my raging hard-on, and I wouldn’t be capable of lying on my stomach.
I poured myself a Bulleit bourbon on the rocks and plopped down on the sofa to wait. I’d arranged for the massage therapists to draw a luxurious bath for Faith before her massage. I planned to follow behind, taking a quick shower before occupying the second table.
I flipped on the TV. Sports might take my mind off Faith and her body and all the things I wanted to do to her.
Don’t hold back. I want to feel everything.Her words looped through my mind, over and over, completely drowning out the sportscasters.
How would I be able to hold back, not pound into her like my dick was urging me to?
One of the massage therapists opened the door, and I nearly jumped off the sofa. She motioned that the coast was clear, and so I slipped into the bedroom behind her. Faith was under a sheet on a massage table close to the window, and the massage therapist dug into her shoulders. Faith moaned.
I nearly came in my pants.
The second table was set up next to her, and I assumed they’d explained that I planned to join her. At least I hoped they had, since I didn’t want anything to scare her.
I walked through to the bathroom and found her bath was still drawn, the scent of roses wafting from the steaming bubbles. Heading for the shower, I stripped off my clothes, then let the jets pound my tense body.
Leaning one arm against the wall, I was no longer able to bear the pressure. Taking my dick in my fist, I hissed at my own touch. I loosened the grip, and my palm slid, barely grazing my skin, and yet my dick was so sensitive my hips bucked as I involuntarily fucked my hand.
Faith was so sweet, so soft, so fragile. It wasn’t hard to guess what she’d feel like around me. She’d be narrow, tight. She had to be. Water washing over my body, I firmed my grip, imagining it was her body, all flushed with desire as I pressed inside her, slowly at first, as slowly as I could.
My fingers tightened harder around my cock and I stroked, my hips and hand working in tandem, tugging and rubbing so hard I feared I might rip off my dick.
My forehead hit the marbled wall and I stifled a shout, biting down on my lip as my come erupted, painting the wall. And still my hips jerked as my hand milked every last drop from my balls.
I slumped down on the bench, my cock red from the friction.Shit. That had been one of the hardest orgasms I’d had in years. Almost violent.
But better that I abused my hand than her pussy, and it had solved the problem of being able to lie on my stomach for my massage.
I just hoped it hadn’t used me up for the night.
Then again, maybe it was better if it had. Better if our first time was all about Faith.
* * *
Faith
Massages were amazing. The most amazing thing. Except for kissing Mac. That had been better, but the massage was a close second. And the masseuse was very respectful about keeping my most private parts covered.
Partway through my treatment, Mac had appeared on the second table. I hadn’t heard him arrive, but when the therapist asked me to turn onto my back, Mac was there, his back slick with oil as the other masseuse rubbed his muscles.
Seeing her hands on his body in the softly lit room, a shot of jealousy struck me.
Envy.That was undeniably envy. I was running through the deadly sins in record time.
I closed my eyes as the masseuse untucked one of my legs and began to run her hands up and down my thigh, kneading, finding tight places I hadn’t known were there. Was it normal for me to get wet from a woman’s touch?
But then I realized that the dampness between my legs hadn’t started until I’d seen Mac, and I started to wonder how it would feel if the hands on my body were his.
His therapist asked him to turn over, and after he did, he stretched his hand toward me.
