I ignored the compliment. “Now, if you will undress to your comfort level and lay on the table here, we can get started.” I pointed to the massage table set up behind my sofa.
“My comfort level, huh? What does that mean, exactly?” Deacon took off his shoes and then stripped away his T-shirt.
“It means get naked, Deacon. Geez.” I lost my dreamy professional masseuse voice for a moment.
“Got it.” In seconds flat, his clothes were gone, tossed onto my sofa. And both he and his cock looked very interested in whatever came next.
“Climb onto the table, face down,” I instructed.
Deacon looked slightly disappointed. “Really? Face down? How are you going to massage my most important places if I’m laying on them?” He pointed to his happy erection, as if I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Westartfacedown.” I glared. “Would you please just do as I ask and not question everything?”
“Okay, okay. Touchy.” He hopped up onto the table and settled himself, being careful to tuck his stiff peen in a safe space alongside his body. I muttered under my breath as I reached for the oil.
“Where did you get this table, babe?” His voice was muffled against the face rest.
“I told you Darcy’s friend is a massage therapist, right? Well, she let me borrow it, with the provision that I have it back to her before her session tonight. So we’ll have to put it in your truck and drive it back to town before seven.” I poured heated oil into the palm of my hand. “She also gave me some instructions, so I’m not flying blind here.”
I rubbed the oil between my hands and began spreading it over Deacon’s back, my fingers caressing the muscles under his warm skin.
“Ahhhh . . . that feels excellent.” Deacon sighed. “Really good.”
“I’m glad.” I began working on the muscles in his shoulders.
“How did you get the table over here, if it won’t fit in your car? Did Darcy’s massage friend deliver it?”
“Nope.” I dug my thumb into his neck muscles. “Jimmy picked it up for me and dropped it off.”
“Pop? You asked my grandfather to drive over this table for—for this? Does he know what it is?” Deacon started to lift himself up, and I pushed him back down.
“He has no idea. I told him I was borrowing the table for a project, and he was more than happy to do it. Calm down, Deacon. I didn’t involve your grandfather in our sex games.”
“Okay. Good.” He sounded mollified. “God, your hands are talented, Em. I feel more relaxed already.”
“Glad to hear it.” I devoted several moments to his upper back and his arms . . . and then, with a smile of anticipation, I moved lower, skimming my fingers over his muscled ass.
His body jerked a little as my hands worked there, kneading that very fine ass. I drizzled a little oil over his skin, watching goosebumps rise.
“You know, your ass was the first thing I noticed about you.” I ran my nails lightly over the muscled globes.
“I remember. You told me I could take something you didn’t like and stuff it up my very fine ass.” He chuckled. “That was when I knew you wanted me bad.”
I snorted. “Not hardly. But look at the ego on you.” I giggled. “You told me I could watch that very fine ass walk away from me. And I did. I totally did.”
“I’d like to say we’ve come a long way from then, but I’m pretty sure we can count on being snarky together for the rest of our life.” He sighed. “I like that about us.”
Laughing softly, I pressed a kiss to one very fine ass cheek. “I like that about us, too.”
Moving on, I oiled his legs and massaged them, carefully avoid his inner thighs, even though I could tell that was where he wanted my touch. I’d just began rubbing his feet when he spoke again.
“Em?”
“Yeah?” I pulled at his toe in turn.
“The other night, at the hospital, when you thought I was asleep . . . I wasn’t yet. I heard what you said. About not having any regrets.”
My hands stopped moving for just a moment. “Oh.”
