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I take a few deep, calming breaths and let the music wash through me. It’s difficult, considering my hands are all over the sexiest man alive. I use my thumb and gently dig into the tense muscles until they let go and he relaxes even more. I work over his back and neck, my firm fingers working their magic on his tight, corded muscles.
My hands move to his lower back. I press into his pelvis, pushing and pulling to work on his hips. He moans in pleasure as I press my thumbs into the globes of his ass like it’s my job. Really, I just want to get my hands on his ass once more. I move down his legs, massaging his thighs and calves, every stroke of my hands bringing me more pleasure than if I were receiving the massage. By this point, I’m so worked up I could come just by grazing my crotch against the bed.
When I finish his legs and arms, I take a step back. “Okay, you can turn over.”
“Uhh, no, that’s okay,” he replies.
“Come on, Sammy, don’t be silly. I always massage the front too.”
“Really, Freedom. I’m fine.” His voice is clipped, as if he were in pain.
“Did I hurt you? Did I use too much pressure? Sometimes I forget—”
He grabs my hand and cuts off my words. “You didn’t hurt me. I just…I don’t think I can turn over right now.”
“Why not?” I ask, completely freaking out that I’ve somehow hurt him with my deep tissue massage. I mean, I sometimes get a little aggressive as I’m working over the muscles, but he didn’t really act like it was hurting him. “I’m sorry if it was too much pressure—”
“Freedom.” His voice cuts me off and his eyes meet mine. “I’m having a little problem. Down there.”
It takes a few seconds, but the lightbulb finally clicks on. I glance down, even though he’s still on his stomach and I can’t see anything. “Oh!”
“Yeah, oh,” he grumbles. “You had your hands all over me,” he says, in a weak defense.
“Well, I never shortchange anyone on a massage, so flip over. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”
He groans. “No, Freedom, I think the massage is over.”
“It’s not. Stop being a baby. I can handle a hard-on.”
“I’m sure you can, but I’d rather you not handle my hard-on.”
“Why not? You don’t think I can take it?” I ask, placing my hands on my hips.
“That’s not what I meant.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “Hell, I don’t even know what I meant.”
“Turn over, Grayson. I insist.”
With another huff and a few more curse words I rarely hear him say, he finally rolls over. My eyes zero in on that dick like I’m a missile and it’s my target.
“Stop staring.”
“I can’t help it. It’s…impressive.”
I grin as he groans. “Let’s call it a night.”
“Are you kidding? We’re just getting started,” I tell him as I grab my oil, lube up my hands, and place my hands on his chest, my eyes locked on that hard cock the whole time.
