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Her hands were like silk, and the strength in her movements was impressive. It felt like she’d worked years’ worth of knots and tension out of my back. She deserved triple what I’d paid for this session; actually, you couldn’t even put a price on it. But I knew it wasn’t just about her physical touch. It was her. She’d made me feel like it was okay to let go long before she ever laid a hand on me.
What killed me, and what probably led to my dick’s awakening, were the little breaths she’d sometimes let out when she was applying pressure. I could feel them on my skin. And that made me want to feel more than just the air that escaped her. This was a problem. But I couldn’t let myself feel guilty right now because this massage was too damn good. It was the best thing I’d felt in a very long time. I needed this.
When it finally came to an end, I felt almost drunk off of how relaxed I was. As Wren turned around to clean up, I told her I’d be getting dressed upstairs and would meet her back downstairs in a moment. Wrapping the towel carefully around me, I picked my clothes up off the floor and rushed out.
I was still fully erect, and I needed to take care of that before I said goodbye to her. So I jumped in the shower and in less than a minute rubbed out one of the most intense orgasms I’d had in a while. After my cum shot into the tub, I felt a bit of shame for getting off on her. But never in my life had I experienced something as sensual as being touched by her.
Wren was all packed up and waiting in the foyer when I arrived back downstairs. I’d wanted to ask her to stay for a bit, but all things considered, that wasn’t appropriate.
“That was fast. You’re leaving?” I asked instead.
“I am.”
I stood in front of her. “Wren…”
“If you’re going to apologize for you-know-what, please don’t, okay?”
I looked down at my feet and chuckled. Her choice of words was better than the party in your pants, I supposed.
“I won’t,” I said.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“I feel amazing. Truly. Like a new man. I hope you know how good you are at what you do.”
“Well, you gave me a standing ovation earlier, so…” Her face was red as a beet.
Jesus. “That’s a fucking good one. I have to admit.”
“In all seriousness, I’m glad the massage helped.” She smiled and turned toward the door.
I was still this close to asking her to stay for another drink. I did not want her to leave. Maybe I could’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for pitching a tent earlier. But realistically, she had to go—for many reasons.
“What will you do tonight?” I asked. “The night is still young.”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to see what kind of trouble I can get into.” She winked. “You should do the same. Take advantage of Rafe not being home.”
“My body is so damn relaxed right now, I feel like I’d have jelly legs if I left the house.” I laughed.
“That’ll probably lessen in a half hour or so. Then you can go out on the town.”
“Going out on the town isn’t exactly my thing anymore.”
“I would think all you have to do is walk into a room full of people, and they flock to you.”
I shrugged. “Usually those aren’t the right kind of people.”
She nodded. “I hear you.”
I much preferred being around people I naturally gravitated toward. And this girl was a magnet.
I stood there saying nothing, clearly stalling. I didn’t want to say goodbye to her because I liked the way she made me feel. Alive. That was the only way to describe it.
“’Night, Moody,” she finally said, ending my awkward procrastination.
“Goodnight, Wren.”
She walked away without further ado. I stayed at the doorway and watched as she packed her stuff into her small SUV and took off.
The second the door closed, it felt lonelier than it had in a while in this big, empty house.
An hour later, I’d done nothing productive with my night. The massage had not only relaxed my body but seemed to have brought to the surface so many of the emotions trapped inside me. Now that they were released, I needed to put them somewhere. So I decided to do something I’d never done before.
I took that journal off the kitchen table and brought it up to my bedroom. Lying in bed, I settled into my pillow and opened the blank notebook. The paper was a heavy stock. I grabbed a pen from my side-table drawer and began to write out my thoughts.
Why do I feel guilty for the euphoria I’m experiencing right now? Maybe because I feel so alive, and that’s an even bigger reminder that Maren isn’t. I feel amazing and terrible at the same time. Who knew you could feel both at once?
