Page 78 of Apparently, I’m Trouble

I found the trauma in her muscles and worked it, knowing by touch that she wasn’t following her routine. And I should’ve focused on that–on talking her through her spinal health–but I was distracted by the noises she made.

Soft little moans. Sharp intakes of breath.

She relaxed under my touch, and as I pressed my fingers into her scalp, her low curse made me want to slip my hands under her towel.

I was so fucking hard I couldn’t think.

This wasn’t like any other appointment. I’d given more massages than I could count, but this wasn’t work. I wanted to fuck her here and now, on this table, and the only thing stopping me was knowing Mia wasn’t ready.

So I moved on muscle memory, trying to focus as I slid my hands down her waist, her hips, pressing my touch into her.

Her muscles strained under the pressure, and I asked, “Too hard? Do you need me to stop?”

Her voice was husky. “No. This feels so good.”

Clearing my throat, my fingers skimmed over the edge of her towel. I slid it to one side, slowly, giving her a chance to stop me. But she didn’t so much as twitch. She sighed into her pillow as I bared her ass and stared.

Perky and round, her curves were smooth and soft, framed by a scrap of white cotton. Her thong was barely there. Thin and breakable.

Fucking torture.

I clenched my jaw and tried to go through the motions, but as I rubbed more oil into her thigh, I watched her ass ripple as I worked. Her moans took on an edge as I moved higher, my fingers sliding across her inner thigh.

She gasped as I brushed her thong, and her ass bounced just a little as she arched her back. The white fabric was darker between her legs, damp, and my fingers froze as it sank in.

She was wet. So fucking wet that I could see it through her underwear.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, and I didn’t want to.

My cock throbbed, and I was desperate to take it out. If I pulled her thong to the side, what would she do? How would she take it?

Just the thought of her arching into me–fuck. I was stunned by how much I wanted to feel her.

“Please?” She wriggled her ass, and I stood there, transfixed.

Was she asking me to touch her?

She moved her leg from side to side, and my fingers brushed her again. She moaned. My hands moved over her, kneading her muscles while I tried to focus.

This was my job. This was my job. There was a right way to do this, and it wasn’t here and now.

“It hurts, Theo.”

I loosened my grip. “Is this okay?”

“It isn’t my leg.”

I forced myself to look at her clinically, professionally. Years of training meant I could find sources of pain without much effort. But she looked fine. Better than fine.

She looked so good lying beneath me like this, that I wanted to sink my tongue between her thighs and lap up every drop of her.

“Where is it?”

She shifted, bracing on her thighs and lifting her ass in the air. The towel slid from her other leg, landing on the ground without a single sound.

“Here. My panties are all tight and wet.”

Fuck. Me.