124. Crystal #3
“Guessing you don’t want to be seen right now?” She ducks under the water, not waiting for an answer.
I submerge my body, shirt and basketball shorts still in place, and dip back to float and relieve the pressure in my hip and back.
When Livy pops back up, she’s at my head, her arms under my lats using her fingers to straighten my shoulders. She eventually moves around, lifting my hips, holding my back without tension, but aligning my spine. “Where does it feel the best?”
“Where you’re touching me.”
“I mean, where’s the biggest relief in pressure for you.”
“I want to say my cock, but…” I turn my head to her. Her face is eye level with mine. Her breasts heave as she holds my gaze.
“Pause charming Layton for me. Hit snooze for a few minutes and talk with Dr. Morgan.”
I want to retort that I have a doctor-patient fantasy we can play out, but I hold her gaze.
Our connection is strong. Our chemistry’s even stronger.
“Left hip, above the cheek. Probably the piriformis. It doesn’t feel so compressed. Not that it feels like a stretch, but more that the fibers don’t feel so tightly knit.”
Her hand runs down my back to that area, and she moves a hand near that muscle, while an arm keeps my butt from sinking. “What else? Close your eyes and feel your body.”
“Left quad is tight, almost like my leg wants to roll inward.”
“I see that. Anything else?”
“Right hamstring. It used to feel long. Now it feels compact.”
“Are you comfortable if I touch you?”
I open my eyes. I’m sure that fire burns in mine. I roll my bottom lip at one side in, hoping my whiskers hide the movement.
“Yeah.” The answer is yes. And no. I’m desperate for her touch. I’m beyond impatient to touch her.
And I’m terrified. Terrified to feel the pain, feel the burn, feel the stretch or pull or tug of movement where there’s been none.
And I’m anxious about her seeing…
… what I’ve become.
Arm still under my glutes, she moves another to my left knee, widening my legs a bit. “Relax, Layton. I won’t manipulate you. And I won’t exercise your muscles. I’m just getting a baseline for how your body is protecting itself.”
I exhale.
“It’s doing its job perfectly. I won’t violate that. Will you stretch out your left leg as far as you’re comfortable? Don’t push. Just give me full extension for today.”
I do.
“Great.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It is. I need a baseline, not for you to be six-foot-eight. If you twist your ankle left, how far can you go?”
I do. This is ridiculous.
“And now right, please?”
Again, I comply.
“Good.”
She moves to my right side and assumes the position she had on my left. We go through the same exercises.
“Anything else you can feel in your body that we should put in our first plan?”
My brain is so fucked, I just shake my head.
“Are you satisfied with today? Or did you want to accomplish anything else?” She has both arms under me as she asks. One is at my back; the other is at my upper thighs.
“You’re the expert, Doc.”
She tilts her head. “I am, actually. And I feel good about what we’ve done.”
“Am I talking to Dr. Morgan or Livy?” I ask.
“Your call.”
I snag a finger under her sports bra and yank her to me, letting my butt sink a bit.
The force of my tug fights against the water until it does the opposite and sucks her into my hold. I pull her into my arm, using the other to snag her neck and fall on her mouth.
I’m not soft, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, letting my arm around her back slip to her ass and tease her crack through her shorts.
She whimpers and wiggles to give me better access.
“Dr. Morgan is hot,” I say against her lips. Trailing kisses toward her ear, I add, “Livy is fucking intoxicating.” Into her ear, I growl, “And Pix is every fantasy I’ve ever had.”
She sucks in a breath, and the sound stirs something deep in me that’s been asleep for far too long,
“I can’t decide which I like more.” I kiss her neck and lift my hand from where it rests on her shorts and slide it inside her bottoms at her ass. “Lucky for me, I don’t have to. I get all of you.”
I stroke from her clit, through the hot, slick wetness there, to her ass and tease her puckered hole before doing it again and again.
“Yes.” The look of ecstasy on her face is the most erotic thing I’ve seen in my short life.
“And I get all of you.” She reaches for me, but I move her hands behind my neck.
“Be a good girl and keep your hands right there, baby. Let me make you feel good.”
“Layton.” Her voice is half moan, half plea.
“Say my name again.”
She does, and I fill her with two fingers, pumping in and out, reaching deep, feeling her heat. I withdraw, toying with her clit, watching her face, feeling her hot around my fingers.
I dive back into her pussy, and when I see her find her rhythm, I breach her ass with my thumb and change my stroke to slow and deliberate.
Her mewl stirs my cock, even a little, and I feel excitement race from my spine to my balls.
“I’m close,” she pants quietly, closing her eyes, lifting her chin to the sun, bouncing her weight on my fingers, riding my hand for her pleasure. “I need—”
I lift her and bite her nipple as I feel her squeeze and ripple around my fingers, her arms tightening around my neck, holding on as she rides the wave.
I drag in and out of her, pistoning my fingers, and draw out her pleasure.
I leave her tit for her mouth, pulling her tighter with a hand at her neck.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful to watch.” I slide my thumb out of her ass but keep my fingers sliding inside her cunt, pulling out only to tickle her clit and dive back in. “I like pool therapy.”
The flush across her face is like watching oil dance across water. “Me too.”
And fuck if she doesn’t straight attack me.