shirt, and holy mother of God, I think a moan escapes my lips. That, or I queefed, ’cause my girl parts sighed with happiness. Either way, I’m stuck somewhere between Heaven and Hell, fantasizing about this amazing body right here in front of me, begging to be touched and licked, but I can’t do either, because he’s sick as a dog.
“In bed,” I command, patting the crisp sheets. “I ordered you some broth and water you need to take with your medicine.”
I can tell he wants to talk back, to not give in to my demands, but the fever is kicking his ass and he simply doesn’t have the fight in him. Defeated, he crawls onto the mattress and allows me to pull the blankets up over his lap. I bring him the tray of food, which I’ve also set his pills out on.
“Drink some of the soup; it’ll soothe your throat, and the medicine will help break the fever. I’m going to run to my room. I’ve got some lavender and eucalyptus oil in my purse, which I think will help you too.” Grabbing his room key off the counter, I lift it up in the air. “I’ll be right back.”
It takes me less than ten minutes to return, and when I scuttle back into his room, he’s already finished off everything on the tray and is waiting expectantly for me. “What next, Nurse Dakota?”
Snickering, I kick my shoes off and hop up on the other side of the bed. “Roll over onto your stomach. Turn your head to the side, cheek flat on the mattress.”
He does this cute little thing where he cocks one eyebrow way up but obeys my instructions without arguing. Knee-walking over to him, I hike the dress up to where it’s barely covering my panty-less mound and straddle his butt. Along with the stifled sound, he chokes back, the pressure against my throbbing clit is torture, but I push my own selfish desires away for the moment and focus on making him feel better.
Drizzling the oil over his bare back, I begin massaging his taut, tense muscles, permitting my fingers to do what they’re trained to do. I put all my attention into soothing him, to relieving his discomfort, and the pleased groans rumbling inside him drive me to keep going.
“You’re fucking phenomenal at this. Your hands are like magic,” he mumbles, opening his lids only enough to peek up at me.
“That’s a good thing, since doing this will be my livelihood soon.”
“You’re a massage therapist? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
Shrugging, I focus my attention on the knot under his left shoulder blade. “I’ll graduate from school in December, and I dunno. It hasn’t come up, I guess.”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he closes his eyes and unwinds under my touch, my fingers working up and down the finely sculpted contours of his back. After a few minutes, his entire body relaxes and I think he’s just about asleep, when he says, “You need to come on the road with us Monday. Two-week tour down to New Mexico, across Texas, and ending in New Orleans. That’s when Gunner and Emmy Sue are coming back here, and you could return with them. It’d be fun, and I could use your hands every day when I get off my bike.”
“Sounds like a blast, except would you truly only want to use my hands every day?” I tease, wiggling my fingers in the air.
The edge of his mouth curls up lazily and he shakes his head against the bed. “Fuck, no, Sunshine.”
My insides are warm and bubbly and I’ve got a goofy-ass grin on my face as I massage him until he passes out. Then, as quietly as possible, I freshen myself up in the mirror and rejoin the party downstairs.
SUNDAY, JUNE 17
BLINDING SUNLIGHT STREAMS THROUGH THE window, waking me from a much-needed deep sleep. My eyes snap open and survey the hotel room. I’m alone. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. Maybe a little of both.
Last night is kind of fuzzy. I remember the wedding ceremony and having to leave the reception early, feeling like I was burning up from the inside out. I remember
“In bed,” I command, patting the crisp sheets. “I ordered you some broth and water you need to take with your medicine.”
I can tell he wants to talk back, to not give in to my demands, but the fever is kicking his ass and he simply doesn’t have the fight in him. Defeated, he crawls onto the mattress and allows me to pull the blankets up over his lap. I bring him the tray of food, which I’ve also set his pills out on.
“Drink some of the soup; it’ll soothe your throat, and the medicine will help break the fever. I’m going to run to my room. I’ve got some lavender and eucalyptus oil in my purse, which I think will help you too.” Grabbing his room key off the counter, I lift it up in the air. “I’ll be right back.”
It takes me less than ten minutes to return, and when I scuttle back into his room, he’s already finished off everything on the tray and is waiting expectantly for me. “What next, Nurse Dakota?”
Snickering, I kick my shoes off and hop up on the other side of the bed. “Roll over onto your stomach. Turn your head to the side, cheek flat on the mattress.”
He does this cute little thing where he cocks one eyebrow way up but obeys my instructions without arguing. Knee-walking over to him, I hike the dress up to where it’s barely covering my panty-less mound and straddle his butt. Along with the stifled sound, he chokes back, the pressure against my throbbing clit is torture, but I push my own selfish desires away for the moment and focus on making him feel better.
Drizzling the oil over his bare back, I begin massaging his taut, tense muscles, permitting my fingers to do what they’re trained to do. I put all my attention into soothing him, to relieving his discomfort, and the pleased groans rumbling inside him drive me to keep going.
“You’re fucking phenomenal at this. Your hands are like magic,” he mumbles, opening his lids only enough to peek up at me.
“That’s a good thing, since doing this will be my livelihood soon.”
“You’re a massage therapist? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
Shrugging, I focus my attention on the knot under his left shoulder blade. “I’ll graduate from school in December, and I dunno. It hasn’t come up, I guess.”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he closes his eyes and unwinds under my touch, my fingers working up and down the finely sculpted contours of his back. After a few minutes, his entire body relaxes and I think he’s just about asleep, when he says, “You need to come on the road with us Monday. Two-week tour down to New Mexico, across Texas, and ending in New Orleans. That’s when Gunner and Emmy Sue are coming back here, and you could return with them. It’d be fun, and I could use your hands every day when I get off my bike.”
“Sounds like a blast, except would you truly only want to use my hands every day?” I tease, wiggling my fingers in the air.
The edge of his mouth curls up lazily and he shakes his head against the bed. “Fuck, no, Sunshine.”
My insides are warm and bubbly and I’ve got a goofy-ass grin on my face as I massage him until he passes out. Then, as quietly as possible, I freshen myself up in the mirror and rejoin the party downstairs.
SUNDAY, JUNE 17
BLINDING SUNLIGHT STREAMS THROUGH THE window, waking me from a much-needed deep sleep. My eyes snap open and survey the hotel room. I’m alone. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. Maybe a little of both.
Last night is kind of fuzzy. I remember the wedding ceremony and having to leave the reception early, feeling like I was burning up from the inside out. I remember
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