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I snort before I can stop myself and get a mischievous grin in return. That wasn’t on the form, but I had to know. I run through the rest of the details, date of birth – she’s twenty-six, five years younger than me. Address – she lives downtown, not far from my condo.
Hitting the submit form button, I stand with a smile, rounding the desk and leaning against it, crossing my arms over my chest again and looking down at her.
I’ve signed her up and taken her payment details; there’s no other reason to keep her here… except I don’t want her to leave just yet. The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying.
“Now you’re a member, I can offer you private classes. You can beat the shit out of a punching bag in private while I fix your horrible technique.”
Shit. Insulting the woman won’t make her want to say yes to spending one-on-one time with me. When the hell did I revert to junior high flirting techniques?
Thelma stands, my heart sinking in my chest. Yeah, I’ve blown this, and not just with anyone, but with a damn Rampwood. What was I thinking? Well, I clearly wasn’t.
She’s only about five-seven, so she has to tip her head back to look into my face, remaining about a foot away from me. So close… yet so fucking far away. Our eyes lock, and I almost lick my lips. I swear I could get lost in these whiskey-colored eyes.
“You think a weekly session will help my tension?” she asks, her voice breathier than when I was taking her information.
My cock notices – because, of course, he does – leaping eagerly. My eyes dip to her plump lips. I bet they taste sweet. They look like they taste sweet.
Jesus. Get it together, Houston! When I finally drag my eyes back to hers, she smirks, batting her lashes at me.
“Do I get private rub downs after?”
My cock is now aching to the point of pain. We’d be staring at the tent in my pants if we looked down. That was definitely flirting. I know what flirting sounds like because I usually resist it all day. But there’s something about Thelma Rampwood. Again, my mouth moves before my brain catches up.
“Turn around. I’ll give you one now.”
I’m half expecting her to laugh and leave, but she doesn’t. Thelma turns around, running her hand along her ponytail, her fingers closing around it as she moves it over her shoulder and out of the way.
Placing my hands on the smooth skin of her shoulders, I start kneading the tight muscles. This isn’tI’ve just pummeled a boxing bagtight; she’s carrying some serious tension here. She does need private sessions to work out some of that stress, and I am more than happy to oblige.
As my fingers rub in firm circles, working out some of the knots, she moans, her head tipping forward. My cock likes that sound. It’s so fucking sexy.
My mouth is dry, my hands moving lower, gripping and massaging with my thumbs down to her lower back. Thelma is panting, still softly moaning as I knead her muscles. My hands move around her waist, my fingertips stroking lightly over her skin. She shivers under my touch, sighing softly, her shoulders relaxing further.
My brain is no longer in control of my hands, they have a mind of their own, but at the same time, my brain has no desire to stop them in their tracks. Pressing my palms to Thelma’s stomach, I hold her against me, my aching cock grinding into her back. If she’s going to shut me down, now is the moment.
She doesn’t. Fuck me dead. Shedoesn’t. Thelma’s head tips to the side, and I bend my own, my lips tickling the side of her throat.
“I can think of something else that might ease your tension,” I murmur, my lips brushing her soft skin as I speak.
“I’ll try anything,” she gasps, her hands sliding back to grip the sides of my thighs, her lower back grinding against my cock. That’s what I want to hear.
Stroking her stomach with one thumb, my hand anchoring her against me, my other hand slips down the front of her yoga pants, under the waistband of her cotton panties. My fingers skate over her skin and smooth folds, parting them in search of her clit.
“Ugh,yes,” she hisses softly, her fingers gripping harder on my legs, her head tipping back to loll against my chest as I stroke her clit in soft movements.
As her eyes flutter closed, my fingers abandon her core, sliding down until my middle and forefingers enter her, the base of my palm grinding against her clit.
“Shit,” she gasps, her eyes flying open, her fingers flexing and closing into fists around the fabric of my shorts.
“Like that?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Like that.”
Fucking hell. Her breathy gasps break my tenuous hold on control, and I press her harder against my chest, roughly finger fucking her. Thelma’s eyes flutter closed, her lips pursing as she moans in the sexiest way.
With every rough thrust of my fingers, my palm smacks against her clit. Her whole body is trembling, her mouth open now, panting and mewling.
“Ye-es….” she breathes, her pussy fluttering and gripping my fingers as she comes all over my hand. Well, that was the best end to a member sign-up I’ve ever been part of.
