AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A warm palm is placed on my forehead and a soft voice whispers, “Relax a few moments. The quiet room has been prepared for you.”
A quiet room. The absolute opposite of everything I am. I hear Connor chuckle a bit when my masseur says that. I deserve that. I know it.
The masseurs leave us and Connor turns his head to look at me.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I’m totally boneless,” I murmur. “You?”
“Oh, I’ve got the bone over here, trust me.” He gives me a playful grin.
I look over and see him perched on the edge of the table, a large tent now being erected in the area of his groin.
“Massages always make me hard. It doesn’t help that you’re naked right here next to me, Lainey Bird.”
I slowly pull my torso into a vertical position and for several long moments, we just sit, covered in our thin sheets on our respective tables, peering at one another. Connor is beautiful. And like last night, I can’t believe I’m actually sitting here with him. His body twitches and strains under the sheet. He’s got to be uncomfortable. Inner Sex Goddess seems to suspend my ability to make rational decisions. Because I’m not sure what possesses me to do it, why I decide it’s a good idea, or whether I’ve thought it through at all, but I let the sheet fall off of me, walk over to Connor and extend my hand to him.
“Let’s go,” I whisper.
We move into a large room with a huge shower — clearly meant for two people. Connor twists the water faucet in a clockwise direction and we step into the warm stream together.
“You’ll want to wash that oil off of you,” he says grabbing a loofa and squirting some soap on it. He moves to hand it to me, but instead, I just curl his fingers around it and press it back toward his own body again.
“You do it for me,” I command. Inner Sex Goddess takes the helm of my brain and body for a while. She claps her hands and jumps up and down at me. I hope I haven’t made a mistake in letting her drive this train wreck for a bit. The truth is, I feel safe with Connor. And I feel sexy. Not ready for actual sex, but a part of me thinks if I’m ever going to allow a man to sleep with me again, it could be him.
His hands find my shoulders and neck, and he immediately begins to move his soapy fingers across my wet skin. Hmm, now I understand why he commands me. It’s nice. It’s heady. It’s sexy. A man who wordlessly does your bidding. Not only because it pleases you, but because it pleases him to have the chance to do it for you. To obey and bring pleasure. Yep, letting Inner Sex Goddess drive is a great idea.
His hands rove over my body from my ears to my toes, not missing a single inch. He caresses my breasts for a long time and spends an equally long few minutes massaging between my legs, although he never tries to touch me inside. He just tickles the hair there and rubs softly against my outer lips.
When Conner is finished, I put out my hand. “Your turn,” I insist. My voice is barely a whisper. I’ve never in my life been this forward with a man. I’m shaking so hard I’m afraid I’ll drop the tube of body wash. I mimic his movements, starting at his neck and rubbing my hands across his slick, wet body. I leave the lion for last.
I feel the tiny thin hairs on his chest, the tight peaks of his nipples that harden under my caress, the way his abs clench at my slightest touch.
Working my way down his body, I inspect and admire every hard, rounded curve of every muscle. He is perfection in flesh. And he’s here. With me. I fight the urge to ask him why.
When my hand moves to his hardness, he hisses. I lather the small nest of hair around it and gently cup his heavy sack into my palm. His eyes close and his head falls back. He bites his lower lip.
“Please.” His voice is barely a whisper. “Please, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
I literally bite my lip to keep from speaking. I know words would ruin whatever magic my Inner Sex Goddess is conjuring for me right now. I’m not about to break the spell.
My fingers grip the long hard length of him, exploring the veins and cords of muscles in my hands. He’s as thick as he is long. I can’t even reach around the width of him with my fingers. I slowly begin to stroke up and down in long, soft pulses.
His hands reach out and clutch my shoulders, dragging me closer to him so that he can rest his cheek on the top of my head. His arms wrap around me, pressing our bare chests together. His breathing becomes ragged. Water splashes between us and pools where we are pressed so closely to one another that not even the droplets can find space to seep through.
I hear a groan and then a long, hard guttural breath rise from his throat as I continue to stroke a bit faster.
I stand there, in total silence. For the first time in my life, the silence holds everything together. I need to hear his sighs, his groans, the sound of his racing heart against my ear. I need to listen to his quivering breath and respond to his growing urgency. I need to know what I’m doing to him. He’s breaking me, stone by stone, tearing down the tall wall of anxieties and insecurities that have safely managed to keep me at a comfortable distance from any kind of intimacy. I don’t know why or how, but I believe I’m doing the same for him.
My fist begins to pump faster and his fingers clench tighter at my shoulder while his breath comes faster and in heavier pants. I continue to slide up and down his length. My stomach touches his. My thighs squeeze against his thighs. My chest presses into his chest and feels like it’s too much and not enough at the same time. His arms wrap around me completely and I move faster, sensing his pleasure from the movement.
He hums loud and long and breathes faster. Leaning so hard against him, I feel the muscles in his body tense. His arms wrap around me so tightly I can barely breathe. I feel his entire body shudder, he twitches in my grip and then the hot liquid of his release pours over my knuckles. He doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t call out my name. He just lets out a long, hard gulp of air and pants quietly, working to get his breath and heart rate back under control. His forehead drops to rest against mine. We stand there entwined in the warm stream of water for a long time. He merely holds me. Remarkably, I can’t utter a word.
* * *
I nibble at my dinner. As usual, I fill the empty spaces between us with idle chitchat that skates around what happened in the shower between us. I want him to bring it up, to say something. Anything. What if he was put off at how forward I acted. What if I didn’t do it well enough. What if he can’t respect me now? I worry he regrets bringing me along on this trip and that he thinks badly of me now because I acted so impulsively. The never-ending what-if demons rumble through my mind all evening. The rumbling turns into slight tremors I can see vibrating in my fingertips when I pull back the sheet later that night.
Just as he did the night before, he’s propped his torso up on the pillows. I notice, however, that he’s asked housekeeping to bring extras for me to lie on. Is that because he doesn’t want me sleeping on his shoulder? Doesn’t want me close enough to touch him? Worry lines crease my brow.
