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“My back is tight,” I stretch it to the left and right to try loosen it. “I tried to get in for a massage tomorrow night but I can’t get one till Friday.”
“I’ll massage it for you.”
“What?” I smile.
“Roll onto your stomach. I’ll massage it for you.” He goes up to lean on his elbow, and then falls back and chuckles. “I’m feeling so fucking drunk.”
I giggle. “That makes two of us.”
I roll onto my stomach, and he begins to chipper chop me at high speed. “Oww!” I cry. “What the hell is that?”
He sits up, and with two hands, he really chipper chops me with vigour.
“Ah.” I laugh. “Stop it, you’re making it worse.”
He sits over my behind and gently begins to knead my shoulders, and I smile sleepily into the pillow. “Hmm. Now, that feels good,” I whisper.
For twenty minutes, Nathan’s magical hands roam up and down my back, every now and then, softly dusting the sides of my breasts.
I’m sleepy, relaxed, and I hate to admit it… aroused. I feel like I’m drifting safely, halfway between sober and drunk, Heaven and Hell.
Right and wrong.
As he pushes me into the mattress, I can feel his dick on my behind. Or maybe that’s the margaritas and wishful thinking.
I get a vision of him in the nude from the other night and my insides begin to melt.
I let my mind go somewhere that it has never gone before. I let myself imagine what it would be like to have sex with Nathan Mercer.
Would he be rough? Would he be tender? I get a vision of me on top, looking down as I ride him. He would be so deep inside of me. God, he most definitely would touch every single side.
I clench in appreciation, and I feel a rush of moisture to my sex. I begin to feel my pulse there.
“Are you asleep, baby?” he whispers.
I inhale deeply, unable to answer him. It’s easier to stay asleep—more restful here—and I don’t want him to stop. Don’t stop.
His hands are magical.
He lies down beside me and pulls my back to his front. His finger trails up and over my thigh and to my hip, slowly moving over my stomach.
His mouth is at my ear, and I can hear his breath quivering. Almost as if he is aroused, too.
What the fuck was in those drinks?
But I’m too relaxed to stop it, too relaxed to think. I just know I want this …. whatever this is….to keep going.
“Are you asleep, baby?” he whispers.
“Hmm.” With my eyes closed, I put my hand up over my shoulder, onto his cheek. “Don’t stop, Nathe,” I whisper.
He inhales sharply as he kisses the side of my face, and I feel his erection up against my behind.
Am I dreaming this? Am I in a hornbag, drunken stupor right now?
What’s happening?
I’m too relaxed to care, and I’m completely sure that one of us should be the sober and responsible person right now and stop this idiocy.
