Oh. My. God. She’s a witch. Or psychic. She can read my mind. Why does this keep happening to me? Why do I attract the crazy ones?
“Sebastian.” A concerned look is on her face. She grabs my arm, steering me to a chair. “You need to sit down. You look pale.”
Sit. Pale.
My brain is functioning at the level of a reptile.
“I’ll get you a drink.” She dashes to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. I watch her closely to make sure she doesn’t pour anything into it. Or start chanting.
She whirls around and opens it, then hands it to me. “Drink.”
I stare at it for a moment. She didn’t tamper with it from what I saw.
My mind is spinning as I take a drink, trying to come up with a plan to get her out of here without angering her.
“You’re so tense.” Her fingers begin kneading and massaging my shoulders. Water dribbles from my lips as I groan.
God, that’s heaven.
My body betrays me, relaxing under her touch.
“That’s it,” she purrs in my ear. “Just relax. I’ll work the kinks out.”
Her voice is seductive, lulling me into a false sense of security. Yet it excites me. My cock thickens, standing at attention, as I lean back in the chair, enjoying every second of the massage.
Magic. Her fingers are pure magic.
A groan escapes me as my head falls forward. She works on my neck, the tension easing.
“Oh. Someone’s aroused.”
I barely register what she says. She’s digging her elbows into my upper back. My head drops, chin to chest, a sound of pure pleasure escaping.
My eyes widen as her hand slides down my chest, rubbing over my long-sleeved tee. Her other hand is still working on my shoulder.
I should say something. Stop this.
But her touch has made me a prisoner.
Which is weird since I usually recoil from touch, unless I want sex.
Oh, God. Sex. Don’t think about that right?—
Her hand is on my dick. She begins rubbing me through my pants. Her boobs are practically popping out of the V-neck shirt she’s wearing as she leans over me.
“Ohhh… so big,” she whispers, eyes wide, awe in her voice. “So hard.”
My cock twitches. I swear on my mother’s life—the one I don’t talk to—that I’ve never been harder. Which is a very weird thought to have right now.
Ivy moans as her hand wraps around me. She pants slightly as she strokes me through my sweatpants.
My hand reaches for her hair, wrapping around thelong, silky locks. My chest heaves as she pumps her hand faster, and I know I’m seconds from coming in my pants like a horny teenage boy.
“Ivy. Please?—”
I try to tell her to stop, but she strokes me faster.
And that’s it. I go over the edge, my cock erupting inside my pants.
