Page 47 of Bad Habit
We interlaced fingers as the women massaged the fronts of our legs, making both of us moan.
“Ladies,” Mac said. “Thank you.”
The massage therapists covered our exposed limbs and then disappeared from the darkened room so quietly I had to prop myself up on my elbows to believe they were gone.
Mac’s sheet had tented over his genitals. I gasped.
“Don’t get up yet,” he said. “Just relax.”
The idea of him touching me twirled my stomach with nerves and excitement, but this was what I’d come here for. Sex.It was starting now.
He swung his legs away from me and jumped off his table. I averted my gaze lest I see his naked backside, but then I instantly regretted not looking. Would I get another chance?
When I opened them again, he’d donned a robe, and he sauntered to the side of my table. I tried not to stare at the place where his robe poked forward. I wasn’t sure what I’d see under there, but his organ looked big, certainly too big to fit anywhere inside my body.
I tightened down there, as if my insides agreed.
“Did you enjoy your massage?” The backs of his fingers lightly stroked my cheek, brushing hairs from my face.
“I loved it.” I stretched on the flat bed. “I didn’t think I’d like having a stranger touch me like that, but once I got used to it, it felt good.”
“Is it okay if I touch you?”
I nodded, and his hands traced from my face, down over my neck to my collarbones. “Relax,” he said. “It’s just touching. Stop me if it doesn’t feel good.”
“It feels good.”
One finger traced over my lips as another traced down past my collarbone and skimmed over the sheet covering my left breast.
I tensed.
He drew his hands away. “Too much?”
“No. Sorry.” I closed my eyes for a long moment, then added, “I’m just nervous. Keep going. It’s okay.”
“We’ll take it slowly.” He touched my face again, tracing the sides from my forehead to my chin and then back, and then skimming my cheekbones. “I’m only going to touch you right now. That’s all. And remember: tell me if you want me to stop.”
I smiled my encouragement, and then my eyes fluttered shut. Maybe it would be easier if I couldn’t see him. His hands slid from my face to my neck, then to my shoulders, skimming softly, a much lighter touch than the massage woman had used, and it lit sparks under my skin.
His slightly rough palms and fingers passed over my body so tenderly, so respectfully, but it was more arousing than I’d ever imagined mere contact could be.
Licking from under my skin, flames rose to meet every place his hands touched. Mac must be in league with the Devil to be able to command fire this way. Had I picked the Devil himself as my sin consultant? Seemed perfect.
His thumbs traced the hollow at the base of my neck, then fanned out, exploring my collarbones, my bare shoulders, then caressing my face, neck and shoulders with delicacy, respect and utter sensuality.
I knew he’d run out of places not covered by sheet and tried not to let myself worry about whether, or when, he planned to remove it. His hands slid lower, and an involuntary sigh rushed through my lips as they skimmed over the sheet and grazed my arms, then continued down over my legs.
I sucked a sharp breath, but the light pressure through the fabric felt glorious. I melted back into the massage table as his hands roamed my body through the sheet, staying away from the places I was most afraid he would touch.
But the more he stayed away from those forbidden places, the more I wanted him to go there.
My spine undulated under the rhythm made by his hands, responding and lifting into his touch until I lost all sense of time, all sense of space or where I was.
My eyes remained closed, helping me focus, concentrating only on his touch, the heat of his body, so close, and his musky scent, combining to submerge me fully in Mac. There was only Mac.
Slowly, I became aware that his fingers had drawn inward, subtly moving closer to the center of my body with each pass, grazing over my ribs, my shins, my thighs, then past my waist to brush lightly around my breasts.
The cotton sheet slid as his palms brushed over my ribs, and I arched up with a long breath as the fabric teased my sensitive nipples. My breasts had never felt quite like this. Hard, as if I was cold, yet licked by fire.
