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For years, the lingering looks, the thick air, and the subtle smiles between Theo and I have felt like nothing more than a bit of friendly flirting. At least, that’s what I chalked it up to, so I wouldn’t read into it.
Now, there’s no talking myself out of anything.
He wants me. I definitely want him.
And this is happening.
Even if it’s only for tonight, it’s happening.
Readjusting on the massage table, I take a slow, controlled breath.
If I was thinking logically, I would talk myself out of it, text him, and demand he let me pay for the work he did on my laptop and forgo the dinner. Unfortunately—or perhaps luckily—my libido is leading the charge tonight, and I’m giving it my all.
If we only have this one night together, I’m going to do all the things I’ve fantasized about but have been too nervous to ever try.
Considering Theo’s movie selection he added to my computer, I’m sure he’ll be down to do every one of them.
My nerves tingle beneath my skin, anticipation coiling around the endings as I think of our texts while I watch the man in the movie. The power. The dominance. The obsession.
Fake or not, it solidified what I’ve always craved in bed. Maybe even a little of what I want outside of the bedroom too.
Something heavy moves over my heart, tugging it down.
Pressing my face closer to the cushion, I force my eyes shut, willing my mind to stop going a mile a minute in ten different directions. I’m supposed to be enjoying my day, not worrying about the possibility of a night with Theo.
Thankfully, my body has also had enough of my racing thoughts as well, and the lull of sleep as I wait for my massage appointment begins to pull me under.
Not sure if my light slumber lasts for a few seconds or five minutes, but I wake to the soothing sensation of a warm liquid being poured across my back wakes me up.
Heavy hands coast along my skin, spreading the oil up and around my shoulders and back, sending whiffs of lavender with hints of citrus into the air.
The masseuse starts at the base of my back, using his thumbs to press on either side of my spine. His pressure is absolutely perfect as he moves in circles, trailing up.
It’s been a couple of years since I’ve gotten a massage, but even then, I don’t remember it feeling this good. I’m not sure if this means I have more stress on my shoulders than I allow myself to feel or if this man is simply magic, but the more he works his way up, gliding over the tense muscles, the harder it is not to moan from how good it feels.
Sucking in a deep breath, I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the various tones of the piano music playing low in the background. It works for a few strokes of his hands, but then he reaches a spot just under my shoulder blade that forces me to bite into my lip to keep the groan inside.
I’m sure they hear noises all the time, and he probably wouldn’t even bat an eye, but having just spent the last hour watching little snippets of all the films Theo added, it seems almost inappropriate.
Just like the ache between my thighs. It’s returned, worse than it’s ever been before, and I one hundred percent blame Theo.
He’s opened my eyes to things I’d long forgotten, desires I’d had to shove away when I was married. It made me realize he was also right about the men. The ones I was watching were sweet and loving, and I had every idea that’s what good sex looked like.
And maybe that is what it looks like for some people, but now that I’veseenthe world I fantasized about, it’s all I want. I want someone so completely gone for me, I’m all they see.
Someone who could be inside me, all over me and around, but still not feel like it’s enough.
I want someone so obsessed they need to spill every damn drop of their soul into me when they climax.
It’s crazy to think how a week ago, I would have been on fire with embarrassment—maybe even a little ashamed—but now it’s the furthest emotion from my mind.
The masseuse moves down, careful as he kneads the outer muscles of my ass. But when he gets to the top of my thigh and runs his fingers down the long muscles that are rarely touched, I cave.
A whimper slips out, my back arching a fraction as his hands reach just above the back of my knee.
There’s no word I can use to articulate the relaxing sensation that spreads through me, but then he draws his fingers back up, shifting to my inner thigh.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and if the pain is any indicator, I’m sure I’ve split it. But I don’t care. I can’t focus on anything except how amazing it all is.
