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This spoke of a long time of working too hard, stress, fatigue and no self-care.
And it pulled at his Daddy instincts even as his dick throbbed incessantly.
Because he wanted to bundle her up, hold her on his lap, and rock her to sleep.
He wanted to insist that he take care of her. To make certain that she ate properly and slept well and took time to do things that were fun.
But that wasn’t his right.
And he had to do what he could to help her right now.
“What do you need, darling girl? Do you need me to touch you somewhere else?”
“Yesss,” she hissed.
“Your legs? Feet? Do you want a foot massage?”
“Oh my God! You give foot massages?” Wonder filled her voice.
“Yes.”
“Will you marry me?”
He let out a small bark of laughter. “One foot massage and you’re mine, huh?”
“I would do anything for a foot massage. Anything.”
Anything, huh?
Shoot.
This massage was partly to help her sleep and partially to get her used to his touch.
He moved his hands over her bottom, kneading it firmly. He wanted to pull her cheeks apart and lightly massage her bottom hole.
But . . . too soon.
She might freak out and he’d ruin all his good work.
“That’s it, just relax and let me take care of you,” he whispered.
Her pajama bottoms were loose and ended halfway down her calves. So he massaged her legs over her pants, knowing she probably wasn’t ready for him to draw them down.
But the next time he massaged her, he was going to strip her down first.
“Part your legs. That’s it. Good girl.” He ran his hands up her inner thighs. Closer and closer to that sweet pussy.
Was she getting wet for him? The way she occasionally pressed her hips into the bed, he thought she was.
He wondered if she’d ever heard of a pussy massage.
That was something he could bring up later.
He forced himself to move down her legs before he pressed his luck too far.
“Roll over, darling girl,” he said when he reached her feet.
God, he was so turned on. When he got to his room and got to take his dick in hand, it wasn’t going to take much for him to erupt.
Moving back, he took one of her feet in his lap and firmly pressed into her in-step.
“Ahh!” The scream she let out had him pausing and checking in with her.
“Shortcake?”
“Please, don’t stop. Don’t. Stop.”
The noises she was making . . . God help him.
This was torture.
“It’s all right, darling girl. I won’t stop. Just wanted to check that you’re okay.”
“I’ll yell red if I’m not.” He stilled, and then she opened her eyes, gaping up at him. “Um, can’t believe I just said that.”
“Are you a sub?” he asked, keeping his voice casual.
Say yes.
“I, uh, well, I’ve read books . . . oh my God, yes!” she cried as he rubbed her foot.
“Is that so? That’s how you know about safewords?”
Reading something didn’t mean she wanted to live it. But it also didn’t mean that she didn’t.
“Ah, yes, but also my . . . my best friend is a Dom.”
“Roo?”
“Hmm,” she said drowsily. “That feels so damn good.”
“And have you ever felt like exploring dominance and submission?” he asked, moving to her other foot.
She whimpered. But he figured if she wasn’t saying red, then she wanted him to keep going.
“He . . . he wanted to take me to a club. But I . . . I couldn’t let any of that get back to the partners at the . . . law firm.”
“Really? That seems ridiculous in this day and age. None of them had needs?”
“Oh, they could all be dirty as fuck if they wanted,” she said, sounding slightly bitter. “But I was a woman, and since I wanted to climb the ladder at my old firm, I couldn’t do anything that might have people look sideways at me. It was definitely an old boy’s club.”
Bastards.
So Gwen had pushed down any needs she had because she was too scared of what her boss would think? But she wasn’t saying that she didn’t have them.
“But you don’t work for them anymore, darling girl,” he pointed out gently.
She sucked in a deep breath, opening her eyes to look at him. “I don’t. But I’m . . . I’m too old to change my ways now.”
“Old? You’re not old,” he scoffed. “If you are, then I’m ancient. And is there an age limit for going after what you want? Are you saying that if there was a woman out there in her seventies wanting to explore her urges that she can’t because she’s too old?”
Her eyes widened as she stared up at them. “No, of course not.”
“There shouldn’t be an age limit on doing things that make you happy, darling girl.”
“Oh my God, why do you have to make sense?” She placed her arm over her eyes as he kept massaging her feet. “No, all right? There’s no age limit on doing what makes you feel good. But I . . . I’m . . . shit.”
