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I tell him how I've spent the majority of my time with Jaden and Greg, practically living at work, and he scowls. I detail my existing list of clients that I've been assisting Jaden with on the side, and the scowl deepens. I also inform him I've just started watching a new Netflix documentary about Fungi, and he gives me a pity smile.I live an extraordinary life.
He asks about Colin between reps, and I warm all over. I tell him about this race he really wants to take part in next spring, that I need to sign him up for soon. It's expensive and kind of involved, and the money is needed upfront, so I need to punch through my finances tonight to see if I can even maneuver it. But I don't tell him any of that. I'd never want him to feel obligated to help me, nor would I accept it.
Now we're just finishing up our last exercise before stretching, and my nerves are on fire again.
I have to touch him now. This is my job. Don't overthink it. It's a machine. A machine that needs maintenance. A machine that can make you cum better than you ever have before. And he wasn't even in control. He could run through me, fuck me into oblivion if he was back to his healthy self.Jesus, why am I this way?!
Machine!
Attempting to tell my body to turn off its sex-crazed setting, I remember professionalism.
Turning to grab the foam roller from on top of the cabinets in the backroom, I stretch on my toes, my fingers grazing it. As I barely reach it, the roller slips away from me.
Hands find my hips, and I gasp as strong arms lift me onto the counter. My knees meet the laminate as I work to remember why I'm up here. All I feel are the firm hands on me, lightly brushing the skin beneath my sweatshirt. They’re burning their scalding heat through me like a branding tool, marking me with his touch.
I squint, trying to ward off the moan that begs to slip from my lips at his hold on me. His massive hands nearly circle my entire waist. Refocusing, I grab the roller, turning around to sit on the counter before jumping off, but I bump into a firm chest.
He's pressed against the edge of the counter, making it impossible for me to get down.
“Lake,” I whisper cautiously.
He breathes hard through his nostrils, his shoulders rigid as his palms plant themselves on both sides of the counter where I'm now sitting, legs open around his hips.
This position is too much. I'm already flushed, and he isn't even pressed against me yet.
He moves inward, causing my inner thighs to rub against his hips. Fuck, I want to pull that flimsy scrap of a shirt he's wearing into me until that bulge beneath those sweats rubs me right where I need it, the place that's aching for him, but I don’t. I open my legs wider, leaving a sliver of space between us.
He doesn't move. Neither of us is touching the other. Just standing as close as possible, hearts racing, chests heaving, waiting for the other to cross that line.
Feeling lightheaded at the intoxicating lust coursing through me, I flutter my lashes and find the courage to look up at him.
He's already staring at me. Eyes wild and dilated. He's losing any sense of control, just as I am.
He drops his head forward, placing his forehead on the cabinets behind me, near my neck. I stiffen, holding my breath, waiting for his moment to strike.
His scent floods my senses, reeking of a rich masculine spice and natural salty sweat. The urge to taste him is forever present.
I unknowingly tip my head to the side, giving him whatever room he needs to strike, my breaths coming out all short and choppy now.
His lips part by my neck, and I feel his warm breath on my skin. My eyes close because there's no chance I can keep them open when I’m imagining the feathery touch of those two pouty silk pillows that are just barely grazing my skin, trailing up towards my ear.
“I can't touch you, can I?” he whispers slowly, knowing the answer before even asking the question.
I swallow, trying to find my voice that's suddenly taken a vacation down in the pit of my stomach.
“T-that would be considered…” I clear my throat, still not finding the strength to open my eyes. “That would be inappropriate, as you are my patient.”
I can feel his smirk against my jaw, as if expecting my answer, before he slowly pulls back.
He tilts his head, moving down along the other side of my jaw until those lips are in the vicinity of my other ear. I feel his breath against the lobe and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Then I guess I have no choice but to wait for my therapist to break her own rules.” He retreats, leaving a cold rush of air in place of the warmth I was submitting myself to.
I stare at the floor, my mouth slightly ajar, as I see him push himself up and onto the table out of the corner of my eye.
The moment he backs away from me, even if by only two feet, I'm finally able to exhale and take in a quick, much needed breath to reset. The ease with which I slip into this lustful, needy chick freaks me out.
“Will you finish me off?” Lake asks casually, laying back along the massage table, his hands folded behind his head as the imprint of his thick, long cock lies hard along his thigh.
