4. Parker
Parker
I'm not exactly sure what to do, but I'm oddly not self-conscious about it. Not when I’m this hard. Not when she’s still standing there, looking like that.
She doesn’t move either, telling me she is as shell-shocked as I am.
Her eyes flicker down, pause, and then come back up to my eyes. It's fast, like maybe I won’t notice the way she’s looking at me.
But I do. I notice everything. The quick hitch in her breath, the way her hand tightens slightly around the bottle, the heat rolling off her skin like it’s catching fire from mine.
She’s trying to hold the line. I can see it in the way her jaw sets, the way she doesn’t flinch or turn, but also doesn’t step closer.
So I break the silence. I'm quiet and careful. I don’t want to spook her, but I sure as hell don’t want to miss this moment if she’s feeling even half of what I am.
“You okay? ”
Her mouth parts. No sound at first. Then, a barely audible, “Mmm hmm.”
I reach out, slowly and deliberately, and find her wrist. Her skin is warm, and her pulse is rapid. She doesn’t pull back.
“Tell me to stop,” I say, voice low. Honest. “If this isn’t where you want this to go.”
She doesn’t. Instead, she steps closer.
Her fingers skim the edge of the table, but her eyes stay locked on mine. There's a moment, right there, where everything else blurs out. The low hum of the diffuser. The lavender in the air. The soft music. It's all background noise now.
When her hand lands on my chest, it’s with purpose.
And when she leans in, her mouth catches mine like she’s been waiting for a signal from me. That's when I know we’re past the point of pretending this was ever just a massage.
She tastes like mint and silk and something I can’t name, but want more of.
A lot more.
Her mouth is soft and hot and searching, and it wrecks me faster than I can keep up.
This wasn’t the plan. But with her tongue thrashing against mine and her hand on my bare chest, I’d burn the whole plan to the ground.
She deepens the kiss, shifting closer, her knee bumping the edge of the table. I reach for her waist, pulling her in gently, testing how far she’ll go.
When she doesn’t pull away, I get bolder. My hand slides lower, resting on the curve of her hip.
I’m so hard it hurts.
She kisses like she’s been starving for something real. Something reckless. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not thinking about work or the will or the stupid timeline Roger dropped on me like a ticking bomb. I’m thinking about her.
She drags her fingers down my chest, her nails skimming enough to make me hiss. Then lower, past my abs, until her hand wraps around my shaft.
I groan.
Her touch is confident and slow, like she’s daring me to beg.
“Fuck,” I mutter, head falling back against the massage table. “You feel so good.”
She smirks against my jaw and starts stroking me. Her teasing, torturous strokes pull the breath straight from my lungs. My hands fist the sheet.
She leans down and bites gently at my neck, her teeth grazing enough to make me twitch under her control. My cock jerks in her hand.
“Damn,” I breathe. “You do know how to take care of your clients.”
“VIP service.” Her voice is low and sultry. “I reserve this for only the most important clients.”
I maneuver my hand under her shirt, fingertips brushing bare skin. She doesn’t stop me. She lifts her arms.
I pull it over her head in one fluid motion, dropping it to the floor.
And holy hell. She isn't wearing a bra.
Her nipples are already hard, begging for my mouth. I don’t even try to resist.
I sit up slightly, catching one between my lips, flicking my tongue as my hands cup her ass. She moans. The sound that comes from deep inside of her is unfiltered as her body grinds against the table.
I reach around and touch her between her legs. She’s wet. Heat pulses through her leggings, straight to my finger.
I switch breasts, tugging her tighter, kissing lower, rougher. Her fingers glide through my hair, and she holds me there like she needs this to breathe.
“Fuck, Dr. Matthews,” she whispers. It’s the first time she’s said my name like that, raw and wanting. It hits somewhere deep. "I take it back. Your bedside manner is off the charts."
Her hips roll forward, and I push my leg out, my thigh pushing against her. I grab her by the waist, and my fingers hungrily grab the waistband of her leggings as I sit up.
She breathes out sharply as I start to tug them down. I can't get far from this angle.
“Let me,” she murmurs, stepping back enough to peel them off and kick them aside.
Then she’s in front of me again, bare-legged, panting, and dangerous in nothing but a tiny scrap of lace.
She hops up on top of me and straddles me, and like that, I’m gone.
She starts grinding against me slowly, teasing both of us, only the thin barrier of her underwear separating us. I’m so hard I could snap.
“Jesus,” I groan. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She drags her teeth across her bottom lip. “You don’t look like you’re complaining.”
“I’m not. Just, fuck, you're incredible.”
I wrap my arms around her and let my hands roam her back and sides, learning every inch like I’m trying to memorize her. Because I am.
This isn’t lust. It’s hot, and reckless, and magnificent.
I don't want to hold back. I want to dive into her, devour her.
“God,” I murmur against her throat, “like Miami… ”
Her hips stall.
Shit.
The moment the words leave my mouth, her body freezes. Not all the way, enough to register the shift. Her breath stutters.
“Wait.” Her voice is tight, uncertain. “Miami?”
I nod, still breathless, still aching for her. “Yeah. You remember how good we were that night. You're even hotter than I remember.”
She pulls back an inch, blinking hard, like she’s sorting a dream from memory. Her hand lands flat on my chest, not pushing, but anchoring, as she pulls back and looks me dead in the eyes.
“That was you?”
“Wait. Did you not remember?” I ask seriously. This whole time, I thought she was fucking with me, playing a game.
Her pupils dilate, and for a split second, I wonder if I misread everything. But no, she’s still on me, straddling my lap, slick and flushed and breathing hard.
She swallows hard, like she’s trying to catch up. “No. I mean, I knew you were familiar. But I didn’t know , not really. Not until this second.”
Then, quieter, almost to herself, she says, “Jesus. That was you.”
"The one and only," I try to lighten the tension.
She huffs a breath that might be a laugh. “Well… that explains a lot.”
I want to reach for her again, but I wait for her to let me know we're okay, that she's okay.
Something flickers in her. I think it's shock, maybe a little awe. Her thighs are still tight around my hips. Her hands are still on me. But her expression has softened.
“I thought you were fucking with me,” I admit .
“Well,” she breathes, her voice soft. “If I had known, I definitely wouldn’t have massaged your ass.”
I grin, my hands finding her waist again. “You didn’t massage it. You grabbed it aggressively, like you owned it.”
She huffs a laugh, still caught somewhere between shock and arousal. “Shut up.”
But her body’s already leaning in again. She's still electric, still hot, only now, she's even bolder. Her mouth finds mine, slower this time, but no less hungry.
Whatever happened, whatever realization cracked open between us, it doesn’t pull us apart. It fuses us together.
She kisses me like she means it. Like she’s trying to relearn the shape of what she forgot. Like maybe part of her did remember, deep down, and this is her way of catching up.
My hands move down to the curve of her ass as I shift underneath her, positioning us so my cock drags across the soaked fabric of her panties, on the edge of her entrance.
She gasps against my mouth, then grinds down, rolling her hips with more force than before.
“Do you want more?” I ask, my voice low, making sure before I go there.
Her answer is to reach between us and place the tip of my cock against her entrance, pushing at the edge of her lace.
I'll take that as a yes.
There’s nothing hesitant or shy now. We're going in, finishing what we started, with eyes wide open.
She shifts in my lap, grinding harder, her hips chasing friction. My cock throbs against the damp fabric separating us, and I swear I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get inside her soon.
Then she pulls back, enough to speak .
“Fuck me from behind, like you did that night.”
Jesus Christ.
Her voice is steady. Almost calm. But the need behind it? That’s a roar.
My hands slide down her curves, gripping her hips as I guide her off my lap and onto her feet. She moves fast, peeling her soaked panties down her thighs as I rise from the table.
Her hands land on the edge of it, palms flat, legs spread enough to wreck me. She glances over her shoulder, hair messy, lips parted.
“Don't keep me waiting.”
That snaps whatever thread of restraint I had left.
I grab my jeans from the chair, fish out my wallet, and tear open a condom with my teeth. The sound is impossibly loud in the thick, charged air. I roll it on fast, my chest rising hard, then step behind her.
My hand slides along her spine, guiding her down, until she’s bent over the table, ass tilted, glistening and ready for me. I catch her hip with one hand, line up with the other, and push in. I go slowly at first, the head spreading her sex for me to glide in.
She gasps. I slap her ass as I drive into her.
“More,” she pants. “All of it.”
I don’t make her ask again.
I drive into her in one smooth, tight thrust, and the sound she makes is raw and wrecked. It's going to haunt me for weeks.
She clenches around me, hot and slick and perfect. My fingers dig into her waist as I set a rhythm, thrusting deep and deliberate, spanking her as the pressure builds.
“God, Adair…” I groan, bending over her, my chest to her back. “You're a slice of fucking heaven. ”
Her hand snakes back to grab my thigh, squeezing, digging her nails into my skin.
“Don’t stop. Right there. Fuck me.”
I thrust harder, angling until her breath catches on every push. The table creaks beneath us as her moans echo off the walls.
I reach around and stroke her where she’s already throbbing for me, slow and firm, and she shudders so hard I have to clutch her tighter to keep her steady. She comes fast and hard. Her whole body tenses around me like she’s holding on through a storm.
I follow seconds later, hips jerking, pulse exploding as I spill into her with a ragged growl.
We stay there, breathing hard, tangled in silence.
Then I lean in, planting a kiss on the back of her shoulder, because there’s nothing else in the world I want to say yet.
Nothing.