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I’m taken directly up the stairs and thrown on the bed. Thrown!
The look in his eyes as he does this is the hottest look I’ve ever seen.
He rips his t-shirt off, drops his jeans and flashes me a smile before he yanks my dress up over my head and tosses it.
“No panties. Good girl,” he says.
I’m melting. Also smirking. Because I know what’s coming. Me. Him. Me again. And again.
He grabs my ankles and tugs so I’m flat on my back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed.
And then he leans in like he’s about to put his mouth on me. Before he gets there, he says, “But darlin’… disobey a serious order like that again, you won’t get my mouth down here for a month.”
My mouth drops open in shock and then I pout. “That’s not fair.”
“Listen to your mate and you’ll be golden.”
His head descends and I close my legs hard, my knees clapping his ears. His eyes meet mine.
“Most times excessive levels of shifter testosterone are hot, but not so much when it comes down to the difference between me sitting back and doing nothing and doing what I know I can do – help the people I love.”
“Point taken,” he says, then he quickly flips me to my belly. “You’re still getting a spanking.”
“Well, I’d be disappointed if I didn’t.”
“And then I’ll decide if I’m gonna lick your cunt or make you wait.”
He’s totally going to lick it.
***
I’m lying in Riley’s arms, drawing on his chest with my fingertip.
“Why you always draw eights on me?” he asks.
“They’re not eights. They’re eternity knots,” I advise.
He drops a kiss on my head and holds me tighter.
“What’s your superpower?” I ask him.
“Hm?” he sleepily replies.
“Your superpower. You know, the thing you’re good at … the thing you’re known for. Non-supernatural, I mean.”
“Hm.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Staircases.”
“Staircases?”
“Yeah. For work. I build ‘em, stain ‘em, and always get big compliments on them.”
“Ah. Cool, I say.”
He yawns.
“Can you re-stain the staircase here sometime? I’d like to see what you can do.”
“Sure. Been plannin’ on that actually.”
“Aren’t you gonna ask me what my superpower is?” I ask, looking up at his sleepy face.
“Fishin’ expedition, huh? You led me here so you could tell me your superpower, I take it?”
“Duh,” I reply.
He smiles. “What’s your superpower, little witch? Besides inspiring your man to fuck you for three hours, rendering him exhausted.”
I smile big. “And you fucked me very well, thank you. My superpower is massages.”
“Oh yeah?” he looks intrigued.
“Uh huh,” I confirm. “Want one?”
“Fuck yeah, I do,” he says. “I might fall asleep while you do it if you’re good at it.”
“Right back,” I say and zip to the spare room where a lot of my craft implements are, sift through my stuff, and find the bottle I want. Sweet almond oil. Another of lavender oil. Not originally intended for massages, but they’ll do. I grab a small mixing bowl.
I find him on his belly, his nakedness on display. My man is absolutely gorgeous. Hot, tanned, muscled skin for miles and miles. Yum.
I mix some of each oil into the bowl and drizzle some onto his spine. I work my way over his butt cheeks first. I slap them both playfully. He chuckles. I rub the oil around some more.
“Hey, baby?” he asks.
“Hm?”
“Spendin’ an awful lot of time rubbing that oil on my ass, ain’t cha?”
“Hm,” I reply and then work my way up his back and then massage his shoulders for a minute before I run my slippery hands up and down his biceps.
“Turn to your back, please?” I request.
“You’re done my back already? Didn’t work out any knots. Didn’t do much but rub oil on me gently. Ain’t ya gonna work on my legs, too? Ain’t you gonna put your back into it?”
“Please follow your masseuse’s instructions, sir.”
He rolls to his back and smiles at me.
I take more oil and drizzle it on his abs. Fun.
And then I rub my palms through the puddle of oil and work my way up over his chest to his throat and then back down. Riley’s hard, beautiful magic wand is at attention.
I take it into both hands and squeeze, then work my slick palms up and down.
“Do you have any idea how to give a massage, Erica Savage?” he asks.
“Hm?” I ask, focused on what I’m doing.
He chuckles but it turns to a groan as I apply more pressure to my strokes.
“You haven’t a fuckin’ clue how to give a massage.”
“Nope,” I admit. “But it’s fun to try.”
“Fun does not equal superpower, woman.”
I smile big.
My phone rings from the bedside table.
I don’t recognize the number.
“My hands are all oily, Mr. Wolf. Could you answer that on speaker for me?”
He rolls and touches my screen.
I should’ve had him put a towel down. These sheets are likely ruined. Oops. Damn is it fun to massage him, though.
