woman would I be to turn down a foot massage from an obviously strong man?
An engaged one; that’s what kind.
“I’m good, Bryson. I can do it.” In all honesty, it hurt to say that out loud as my feet continued to throb so much I was worried they’d never be able to fit back into my shoes.
“Quit being a hard ass, Kennedy. Let me do it. I went to school for reflexology.”
“ You did? ”
He laughed as he said, “No. But I’ve had enough treatments after my games to know exactly what to do. Just trust me.”
I thought it over, looking down at my feet that were visibly pulsating.
One little foot massage isn’t gonna hurt anybody.
I swung my legs up to his lap in the backseat, leaning against the door for support. He smiled, looking down at my feet in a way that suddenly made me feel self-conscious about them. He grabbed one, pulling it closer to his torso before he began massaging it, hitting points that I didn’t even know existed until he applied the perfect amount of pressure.
“You have some pretty feet, Kenn. Perfect, really. Not too big. No bunions. Perfectly aligned. Perfectly pedicured…” His voice began to fade in my head as I focused on his hands. My eyes seemed to close on their own as he switched to the other foot. “Does Landon take good care of your feet? I mean does he, you know… use them for their power?” I answered the question in my head instead of out loud knowing Landon wasn’t at all a feet guy. “If you press right here, you can…”
Oh my God.
I slid further down the door as I melted in response to the pressure. It almost felt like the sensation wasn’t coming from my feet at all; like my feet were just the vice used to feel pleasure somewhere else.
“And if I press this, you’ll probably…”
I shuddered, using my last bit of strength and dignity to pull my feet away.
“What the hell, Bryson?! What did you do to my feet?!” I had to look at them up close to make sure they were still normal.
He laughed, licking his lips as he innocently replied, “I didn’t do anything your man shouldn’t already be doing. A real man knows how to work his woman’s feet.”
Since Landon wasn’t here to stand up for himself, it was up to me to stand up for him. “Landon is a real man. How else do you think he got me?”
He scooted closer to me, taking up every centimeter of personal space I had to say, “He didn’t get you. You settled.”
I turned to him, my head against the window to create some space as I defended myself. “What?! That is so not true.”
He got even closer, his face a few mere inches away from mine. He was so close that I held my breath, not even wanting to give him the satisfaction of my release touching his lips.
“Tell yourself anything, Kennedy. But I hear you… even when you don’t think I do.”
&
This was a mistake.
I knew it.
He knew it.
Yet, he didn’t care because while he was the orchestrator of his personal masterpiece, it was my personal disaster.
We didn’t share many words after the incident in the backseat, me doing my thing and him doing his own as we mixed and mingled at the after after party. By the time we got back to the suite, we only had a few hours to take a quick nap before it was time to head to the airport.
I waited in the living room with my luggage as Bryson struggled to pack his own things like he had never done it before. I heard him give up on it more than a few times, threatening to leave it all there in the hotel and just buy new stuff instead of dealing with it.
What a waste.
I dropped my purse on the couch before I went in to help him, immediately seeing the problem.
“Bryson, these clothes are way too expensive for you to just… stuff them in a suitcase. Take them out and fold them up right.”
He brushed me off, still trying to zip it up as he said, “Hell no, I’m not taking them out. I almost got it, Kennedy.”
I watched a shirt I had handpicked get snagged on the zipper and knew
An engaged one; that’s what kind.
“I’m good, Bryson. I can do it.” In all honesty, it hurt to say that out loud as my feet continued to throb so much I was worried they’d never be able to fit back into my shoes.
“Quit being a hard ass, Kennedy. Let me do it. I went to school for reflexology.”
“ You did? ”
He laughed as he said, “No. But I’ve had enough treatments after my games to know exactly what to do. Just trust me.”
I thought it over, looking down at my feet that were visibly pulsating.
One little foot massage isn’t gonna hurt anybody.
I swung my legs up to his lap in the backseat, leaning against the door for support. He smiled, looking down at my feet in a way that suddenly made me feel self-conscious about them. He grabbed one, pulling it closer to his torso before he began massaging it, hitting points that I didn’t even know existed until he applied the perfect amount of pressure.
“You have some pretty feet, Kenn. Perfect, really. Not too big. No bunions. Perfectly aligned. Perfectly pedicured…” His voice began to fade in my head as I focused on his hands. My eyes seemed to close on their own as he switched to the other foot. “Does Landon take good care of your feet? I mean does he, you know… use them for their power?” I answered the question in my head instead of out loud knowing Landon wasn’t at all a feet guy. “If you press right here, you can…”
Oh my God.
I slid further down the door as I melted in response to the pressure. It almost felt like the sensation wasn’t coming from my feet at all; like my feet were just the vice used to feel pleasure somewhere else.
“And if I press this, you’ll probably…”
I shuddered, using my last bit of strength and dignity to pull my feet away.
“What the hell, Bryson?! What did you do to my feet?!” I had to look at them up close to make sure they were still normal.
He laughed, licking his lips as he innocently replied, “I didn’t do anything your man shouldn’t already be doing. A real man knows how to work his woman’s feet.”
Since Landon wasn’t here to stand up for himself, it was up to me to stand up for him. “Landon is a real man. How else do you think he got me?”
He scooted closer to me, taking up every centimeter of personal space I had to say, “He didn’t get you. You settled.”
I turned to him, my head against the window to create some space as I defended myself. “What?! That is so not true.”
He got even closer, his face a few mere inches away from mine. He was so close that I held my breath, not even wanting to give him the satisfaction of my release touching his lips.
“Tell yourself anything, Kennedy. But I hear you… even when you don’t think I do.”
&
This was a mistake.
I knew it.
He knew it.
Yet, he didn’t care because while he was the orchestrator of his personal masterpiece, it was my personal disaster.
We didn’t share many words after the incident in the backseat, me doing my thing and him doing his own as we mixed and mingled at the after after party. By the time we got back to the suite, we only had a few hours to take a quick nap before it was time to head to the airport.
I waited in the living room with my luggage as Bryson struggled to pack his own things like he had never done it before. I heard him give up on it more than a few times, threatening to leave it all there in the hotel and just buy new stuff instead of dealing with it.
What a waste.
I dropped my purse on the couch before I went in to help him, immediately seeing the problem.
“Bryson, these clothes are way too expensive for you to just… stuff them in a suitcase. Take them out and fold them up right.”
He brushed me off, still trying to zip it up as he said, “Hell no, I’m not taking them out. I almost got it, Kennedy.”
I watched a shirt I had handpicked get snagged on the zipper and knew
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