Chapter Seven
Clara
I’m good at my job, but today I’m distracted. Thankfully, my last client fell asleep, snoring softly, and didn’t notice I’d zoned out while giving her a massage. It’s been like that all day. My thoughts keep circling back to Eric.
He kissed me last night.
I’m still reeling from it.
But then he freaked out and locked himself away in his room afterward. He hasn’t spoken to me since. Granted, it’s only been twelve hours or so, and most of those were spent sleeping, but still. I don’t like that he’s avoiding me.
It reminds me of the years when he was in New York.
“Clara,” my boss, Judy, says as she peeks her head into my massage room. “I moved a few clients around since you had a special request. You have a full body coming in just a few instead of the thirty minute hot stone you were scheduled for.”
Since I like special requests, because it usually means a bigger tip, I give her a grateful smile. “Thanks. I’m almost ready. Send them back when they get here.”
She gives me a wink as though she knows a secret I’m not privy to. Normally, I might bug her until she spills the beans, however, I’m not in the mood today. I quickly finish prepping my room and then slip out to see if they’re ready for me in the waiting room.
The room is dark, for calming purposes, and a man stands with his back to me. When he turns, I don’t have to see him well to know who he is.
“Eric?”
He flashes me a small, nervous smile as he saunters over to me. “Hey.”
“You’re my appointment?”
“Yup.” He grins at me. “Is that okay?”
“Of course,” I say as I show him to the room. “Get undressed to your comfort level and lie face down on the table. I’ll be back in a few.”
It’s not until the room door shuts that I realize I just instructed my stepbrother to take off his clothes. A flood of heat burns my cheeks. Judy, passing through the hallway, chuckles at me.
“Surprise,” she says. “I’ll make sure Katrina up front knows to give him the family discount.”
I thank her and shift awkwardly on my feet as I wait for Eric to get ready. Once more than enough time has passed, I clear my throat and knock on the door. He grunts his approval for me to come in.
It’s just a massage.
Nothing more.
Focus on the job, not the fact the two of you kissed last night.
“Is the temperature of the table okay?” I ask, voice light and professional. “I can make it warmer or turn it down if you get too hot.”
“It’s perfect.”
His back and shoulders are beautifully sculpted in hard muscle. I remember when he first started getting muscles as a teen. We’d go swimming during the summers and I’d steal glances at his shirtless body whenever I could. Now he’s all man and I’m about to rub all over him.
Ugh.
This isn’t going to be easy.
“What made you decide to get a massage?” I ask as I snag a hot, wet towel the steam cabinet. “I mean, you need it, but I wasn’t expecting you.”
I lay the steaming hot towel across the length of his back and gently scrub at his skin with it, digging my fingers into his muscles while I’m at it. He lets loose a sharp groan.
“I need one, apparently,” he mutters thickly. “But mostly, I wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry for being a dick last night.”
He was a dick.
It hurt my feelings.
“Apology accepted.” I pull off the towel and replace it with a hot, dry one. Then, I toss both towels into the hamper. “Let me know if I go too hard or if you need me to go harder.”
Why did that have to sound so dirty?
I squirt a generous amount of oil from my bottle attached to my belt and then begin working it into his tense muscles with my fingers.
We’re quiet for a few moments. Well, we don’t speak.
Eric groans and moans each time I get my hands on a sore part of him.
The stress from losing his job really did a number on him.
I’m grateful he came in because he needs to relax.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he murmurs so softly I almost don’t hear.
I press my thumbs deep into the tissue between his spine and right scapula. He whimpers and it makes me grin wickedly. It’s always satisfying to reduce grown men much larger than myself to a bowl of noodles.
“But you did,” I say with a soft sigh. “You did it and you ran.”
He curses under his breath. “I know. I’m so fucking sorry, Clara.”
I focus intently on kneading his rock-hard knots and muscles, pondering how I want to respond to him. He allows me my time to think.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I liked it.”
We don’t speak anymore about it the entire time I massage his neck, shoulders, and back. He barks out a cute laugh when I massage his feet. My stepbrother’s always been ticklish. It’s not until I have him flip over onto his back so I can work on his front that he talks again.
“I’ve never had a massage before,” he says.
“I can tell.”
“You’re really good at this.”
I cover his eyes with a cloth because it’s awkward with him watching me.
Plus, I don’t want him to see how much I’m enjoying touching his body.
Greedily, I rub along his clavicle and press my fingertips into the tops of his pectoral muscles.
I’m tempted to run my palms over them, feeling his hard nipples as they graze my fingers, but I remain professional.
His chest is chisled to perfection. A small smattering of hair dusts between his pectoral muscles and upper abs. Theres’s another dark trail below his bellybutton that disappears under the blanket. My mouth waters for a taste.
So inappropriate.
I’ve massaged hundreds of men and not once has my mouth watered for any of them. It’s just Eric. He muddles my my mind. It’s his superpower.
After taking care of his chest, I clean him off with another hot, wet towel, and then cover him with the sheet. I uncover one of his legs and begin kneading his calf muscles. Then, I move up over his knee and work on his hamstring.
His leg tenses and it’s then I see it.
A bulge under the sheet.
An erection.
Warmth blooms in my belly. This is also not the first hard-on I’ve seen by a client. Mostly, I ignore them. If they proposition me for more, I immediately stop what I’m doing and leave. Judy escorts them out. It’s happened a few times. This is the first time I’ve felt my pussy tingle in response.
This is bad.
He swallows audibly and rests a hand over his cock as if he can hide it from me. His cock bounces, making his hand move too. There’s no hiding the beast that wants to play.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks out. “I’m trying. If you want to stop—”
“No,” I rush out. “It happens sometimes. You’re fine.”
His lips tug down in a frown. “It does?”
“Yup. Embarrassing for all involved.”
A chuckle rumbles from him. “No shit.”
“So, you came here during a snowstorm and shook up my schedule just to apologize?”
“And, I missed you.” His full lips curl into a grin.
I ache to kiss him again. “You’re obsessed with me.”
He snorts but doesn’t argue. After a beat, he rips off the towel on his face and bores his gaze into me. With his eyes burning into me, my body responds and I tremble. I take a step back as he sits up and then turns to hang his legs off the side of the table.
“We weren’t done yet,” I say, unable to keep my eyes off the way his cock strains in his white boxers.
He slides off the table and his bare feet hit the tiled floor with a soft thud.
I tilt my head to look up at him, unsure what he’s about to do.
I know what I want him to do, but I refuse to get my hopes up.
With a small step, he crowds my body and his fingers hook under my chin, nudging my face to the angle he desires. Then, his lips press to mine again.
We kissed. He thought it was a mistake. Now he’s here again, unable to keep from kissing me.
I slide my oily hands up his chest, allowing myself to touch his nipples. Nothing is professional about this. Or moral for that matter. We’re crossing all kinds of lines, but at least we’re doing it together.
His hand moves to the side of my neck and his thumb caresses me along my jaw. It’s tender yet possessive. I love being held like I belong to him.
Only took a couple of decades.
The kiss intensifies and then he nips at my bottom lip. I gasp each time he grinds his rock-hard cock against my belly. He pulls away from my lips only to trail soft kisses to my ear. There, he whispers hotly.
“Can I massage you now?”
Fire burns like lava in my belly. I nod because my throat is dry, unable to form words.
He brings his hands to my waist, hooks his thumbs into the elastic of my pants, and then pushes them and my panties down my thighs to my knees.
He bends to squirt some of the oil from my container on my belt into his hand.
The cool air kisses my naked pussy and I tremble with anticipation.
His mouth crashes back to mine, kissing me harder and more urgently than before. I moan into him when his slick fingers tentatively touch my pussy. It’s as if he’s afraid of ruining it. If only he know how much I want that.
“Touch me,” I breathe out, whimpering in need. “Please.”
He growls and his fingers slip along my slit, spreading my pussy lips apart. The slickness of them as they rub over my clit is dizzying causing my knees to buckle.
“No, sweetheart,” he growls. “We can’t have you falling.”
His hand leaves the place that throbs for him and he grips my waist with both of them.
I allow myself to be manhandled and eased onto the table.
I’ve been on these things lots of times before when one of my co-workers gives me a massage.
Never eagerly anticipating an orgasm given to me by my stepbrother. My core throbs wildly.
He tugs my pants and panties down to my ankles, but can’t fully remove them because of my sneakers. His fingers reverently stroke up over my shins, knees, and then thighs, making me shiver in anticipation.
“Spread your thighs a bit. You have the room?” His eyes are impossibly dark in here. It makes me feel like I’m being pursued by a handsome villain.
“Y-Yes.”
I slide my feet up and allow my knees to drop to the sides, exposing myself as much as possible in such limiting conditions.
If I knew I was going to get fingered by my stepbrother today, I’d have at least shaved or wore cute panties.
He’s not interested in all that, though.
His body nearly thrums with ravenous hunger for me.
I’ve never seen him like this before and it makes me jealous how many other women over the years who’ve been able to see it.
He dips down and finds my lips with his again.
The kiss he gives me is claiming. When his fingers slide along my clit this time, I’m safe and able to take whatever it is he wants to give me.
Eric is clearly an expert because he doesn’t need to rub at my clit for long.
Soon, I’m whimpering and breathing heavily against his mouth, aching for the orgasm to hit.
No one’s ever used oil on me like this just for clitoral stimulation.
If he gives this much attention to such a small thing, I bet he’s the most generous lover in bed.
That thought has me jolting with a stifled cry as my orgasm seizes me. I jolt and thrash as the pleasure pulsates through every nerve ending in my body. He rubs slower and slower as if easing me off my high. It’s perfect.
But it’s not enough.
A soft knock on the door has us both freezing, eyes going wide.
“Y-Yes,” I call out, hoping to inject a professional tone.
“I think time got away from you, Clara. Your next appointment time was five minutes ago and the client is waiting.”
“Shoot. I am so sorry. Give me five minutes please.”
“Sure thing.”
As soon as she steps away, Eric strides over to his clothes.
I close my thighs and then slide off the table, still shuddering from pleasure.
Quickly, I jerk up my pants and panties.
I snag a hot, wet towel from the steam cabinet and chuck it over to Eric.
He catches it and cleans off his hand. While he finishes dressing, I rush through gathering all the used bedding and towels.
I can’t believe we just did that.
And almost got caught!
As soon as he’s no longer looking like a half-naked snack, Eric strides over to me. He pulls me to him for a quick hug and then kisses me deeply.
He’s not running away this time.
What will that mean for later?
I can’t wait to find out.