Chapter 7 #2
Footsteps sound around me, signaling that Bryn turned back in my direction, but then they shuffle away, and through the face cradle, the lights in the room go out, though there’s a glow of some kind still.
Two feet step into my view, and I smile at how tiny they are.
The cowboy boots are gone, replaced by light purple sneakers.
It must be her favorite color, if the sheets and nail polish are any indication, and I tuck that knowledge away, knowing it may come in handy later for the day I buy her flowers.
The sound of a deep breath fills the room, and I take one too. Then her hands are on my traps, soft and warm, and my entire body tenses. Including my cock. He takes notice.
Fuck.
“Are you okay?” she says softly, matching the light in the room.
Worried my voice will be too high, or too gravelly, I nod my head, bracing myself for her hands to move.
When they do, slowly moving on either side of my spine, then sliding outwards along my scapula, I’m at the mercy of my body reacting to her.
Chills crawl up and down my upper body, tingling in my scalp, along my arms, in my fingertips, all the way down to the top of my ass. And my dick is interested in it all.
When she gets to the bottom of my ribs, her hands slide back up over the length of my back. Then she moves to my left side, her fingers tracing her path as her feet disappear from view, and I involuntarily groan at the light touch against my skin.
Bryn freezes. “I’m still just assessing you, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I mumble, shifting just enough that my dick is in a more comfortable position. “I’m fine. Keep going.”
The fluttering of your fingers is just driving me insane.
In the best way possible. Or worst. I’m not really sure.
“Okay,” she says, but doesn’t sound convinced.
It takes her a moment to start again, and I can feel the hesitancy in her touch, moving over my lower back, one hand on either side of my body. If this is just the assessment, what’s the actual massage going to do to me?
I’m screwed.
“I’d like to do some myofascial release on you,” Bryn states, her hands moving both to my left side, and coming back to my upper back. “But some people find it slightly uncomfortable.”
The word is hardly out of her mouth when I answer, “Yes. Do it. Please.”
Uncomfortable sounds amazing in this sweet, torturous hell I’ve found myself in.
Unfortunately for me, by the time she’s moved from my left side to my right side, I’ve discovered that I like whatever the hell this is.
The way she stretches the skin, then lifts it and rolls it between her fingers makes me the furthest from uncomfortable I’ve ever been, if you don’t count my dick being semi-aroused the entire time.
This woman could tell me to jump off a cliff right now, and I’d probably do it.
I’m putty in her hands, and my groans have to be telling her as much.
“You could benefit from more massage,” she says quietly after one of my louder groans. “Everywhere I touch, you’re rock hard.”
My eyes fly open to reveal the ground below me. Bryn’s hands freeze. At the mention of being rock hard, even though she wasn’t talking about him, my cock grows against my thigh, hardening uncomfortably between my leg and the table.
This is not good.
“Tense. I mean, like, you’re tense. You’re very tense.”
She speaks so fast the words come out jumbled. Realizing that she must be as flustered as I am, I bend my arm back, touching her forearm. She sucks in a breath but doesn’t pull back.
“Are we both thinking the same thing?” I mumble from the headrest.
Though I can’t see her, I can picture the way her hand smooths down her stomach because there’s a pause before she answers. “Probably.”
Just like the other night, a grin spreads across my lips, though it feels weird with my face in the cradle. “I’ll be a gentleman and not talk about it.”
There’s a giggle from above, and my grin gets wider. Some of the tension in the room dissipates, and her hands start to move again, working up towards my neck where she causes another tingling sensation to rush through me. Whatever this is, it’s magic, and I’d pay her damn good money to never stop.
“Your neck is really tense,” she whispers, the nervousness of a few minutes gone. “I’m going to have you flip over so I can work on it.”
My eyelids had just begun to shut, but they spring back open.
No.
Not good.
Can’t happen.
Bad idea.
Horrible. Horrible idea.
“I’m okay on my stomach. Can’t you just work on my neck from here?”
“I have better access if you’re face up and I can get under you.”
Fuck me. Her under me, me between those glorious thighs, my cock pressing against her.
The one place I wasn’t rock hard has officially caught up.
Shifting to try and find a better position for my cock, who is desperate for attention, I shake my head. “How about we don’t do my neck?”
Her fingers dig gently into the flesh there, and I groan without intending to. The reaction causes her to laugh softly. “But you need it, see?”
What I need is for you not to see my cock tenting against my pants.
“Bryn, it’s not a good idea,” I grunt, my hips moving again. The friction against the table has me biting back every sound that wants to come out of my mouth right now.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
I hear it then. The innocence. Not necessarily a virginal innocence, but she has no idea what she’s done. The agony I’m in with a hard-on right on her table. Because of her and her hands.
“I, uh, there’s…” Taking a deep breath, I lift my face from the cradle, turning it in her direction, her hand slipping down to my shoulder blade.
A bright light sits on one of the tables behind her, and I realize it’s her cell phone flashlight creating the glow in the room.
Going for honesty, I charge ahead. “Every single part of me is… rock hard.”
“I know, I told—oh!” Surprise. “Oh.” Realization. “Oh.” Acceptance. “Oh, Wyatt—”
“Bryn, I’m going to need you to stop saying ‘oh’,” I say through clenched teeth, dropping my face back to the headrest. She’s killing me.
Absolutely going to be the death of me. Bending my left knee, my leg rides higher on the bed, creating a pocket of space for my cock to rest more comfortably, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Oh god, I’m sorry. Shit! Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.”
The more flustered she gets, the more her fingers start digging into my back, and in other circumstances, that would be heaven, but this is not the time or place.
“Bryn.”
She stops moving. Her feet stop shuffling around, and her nails, now biting in my back, start to relax. She takes a deep breath, then slowly releases it, smoothing her hands over my shoulder blade.
When I lift my head and turn it to look at her, her face is level with mine.
She’s kneeling next to me, wearing a gentle smile, but her nose is flaring like she’s trying to keep something hidden.
Bright red spots dot her cheeks. Embarrassment?
Amusement? Total and complete destruction of my soul with hyena laughter? I can’t decipher which.
“It’s totally normal, Wyatt,” she says, her voice as soft as her smile. No laughter in sight.
“Normal?” My tone implies my disbelief.
“A natural body reaction to a massage,” she nods, one hand still on my back, but as she kneels there, it slowly slides up to rest on my shoulder. “I normally pretend it isn’t happening.”
I’m not sure I’m equipped to unpack that thought at the moment, or any other moment for that matter, but it does help alleviate some of the engorgement below my belt.
“Bryn, this isn’t my first massage. I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty, this isn’t my natural reaction,” I say, bringing my arm up to rest under my head so it’s not craned so awkwardly.
Those big eyes of hers stare back at me, searching, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to lean over and press my lips to hers.
“At the risk of coming off like a pervert, because I’m well aware you’re only doing your job and it’s not sexual—this is all you. ”
She bites down on her lower lip, her cheek muscles ticking as she tries to conceal a smile. Her eyes finally leave mine to cast downward, taking a moment to process. When she finally looks back up, her eyes are as bright as they were on the dance floor, her smile following a second later.
It has my pulse racing, and the desire to kiss her rising higher by the second.
“And here I thought I was hopeless,” she murmurs.
Without thinking, I lift the arm not holding my head up and run my thumb over her cheek with the lightest touch. “Not even a little.”
Her eyelids flutter closed, and the deepest sigh releases from her, her whole upper body sagging like she’s the one getting a massage.
She looks more relaxed than me, and a smile spreads across my lips watching her.
I could stay like this all damn day. Studying her, looking for the small nuances, attentive to the slight shifts in her breathing.
Learning her.
But when the tones go off a few seconds later, the magic is broken, and duty kicks in. We spring to our feet, and I pull my shirt back on while Bryn unashamedly watches this time.
“Can I get your number?” I ask her, tucking in my t-shirt.
“You need to go,” she says, and my heart nearly stops. Then she adds, “Ask Quinn. I’ll tell her to give it to you.”
My answering smile has her giggling, and she pushes my shoulder. “Go. Before you get in trouble.”
Walking backward towards the door, my tongue sweeps over my lips as I give her a once-over. “Thanks for the massage. And everything else.”
“I’ll put it on your tab.”
One that I’ll be extremely glad to pay.