massage?”
He stiffened. Cleared his throat. “A…naughty kiss?”
“Hmm. After that?”
His chin wobbled a bit. A flush rose on his cheeks. “A…um…foot rub.”
“Ah yes.” I snaked my leg around his under the table. He flinched. “That was it. A foot rub. Do you like giving foot rubs, Jimmy?” All his muscles locked. But not because of my words. It was my naughty foot, skating up his bristly calf, and over onto his thigh, that snagged his attention.
I brushed the top of my foot against his cock, just a tease.
He closed his eyes and shuddered.
“Do you?”
He captured my questing toes and held them still. “Where?” His voice was low and gruff and vibrated with a snarling tension. His thumb eased over my arch, but slowly. I had the sense he was trying to resist a temptation, but couldn’t.
“The sofa?”
His gaze snapped into the living room and without a word, he bounded to his feet. His cock bobbled with the movement. “Okay.” Gruff. Gravelly. Impatient. “Let’s do this thing.”
He grabbed my hand and tugged me into the living room then guided me down onto the couch. Most of the oil had soaked in but there was a hint of it clinging to my skin. It was a decadent slide against the buttery leather.
And then, he knelt before me and looked up at me.
It struck me, once more, how beautiful he was. And I’m not just saying that because he was kneeling before me and about to worship my feet. It was the cant of his head, the shimmer in his eyes. The glaze of his besotted expression.
There is nothing more irresistible than a man besotted.
I set my right foot on his thigh.
He didn’t release my gaze; his eyes burned into mine.
Slowly, he reached for me, skimming his warm fingers over my foot and up around my ankle. He did this for a long, long while as I shifted impatiently. This was not what I had in mind. I had expected—
But then he did it. He cupped my heel in a palm and lifted my foot to his mouth. And he kissed it. It was a reverent kiss, slow and lingering. With his mouth, he explored my arch, my toes, the delicate bone on the side. Licking and laving and nibbling now and again.
I wanted to watch him, wanted to take in every ecstatic flicker on his face, but the sight of his cock, riding high, quivering, beading at the tip, distracted me.
I reached for it with my other foot, but he stopped me, a warning light in his eye. “No,” was all he said. Soft, but firm. Just no .
I knew if I so much as nudged him just then, he’d become undone.
And I wouldn’t get what I wanted, what I needed.
Frankly, that would be a tragedy of monumental proportions.
So I allowed him to make passionate love to my right foot, and then my left and then to my right again. Though he hadn’t touched my clit, and probably wouldn’t for a while, it was awake and humming with need. I could feel my body preparing for him, a bubbling, boiling cauldron of lust. I wanted him, needed him with a desperation I’d never known. But he needed this. So I let him take.
But seriously.
How long was this going to last? And wasn’t it supposed to be my reward?
“Jimmy…” I shifted on the leather. Dampness pooled between my thighs.
He peeped up at me, reluctant to take his attention from his prize, his jaw slack.
“Jimmy… You’re driving me crazy.”
His face broke into a grin, a beautiful smile that poleaxed me. “Am I?”
“This is torture. Hell!” It was. It was. Oh, it was lovely and delicious, but there were other body parts screaming for attention.
He chuckled. “Darling, sometimes you’ve got to go through hell before you get to heaven.”
I winced. “Don’t quote song lyrics to me,” I muttered. “I’m on vacation. The last thing I want to think about is work.”
“Then don’t.” He stroked my calf, up and down, in a drugging rhythm. “Touch yourself.”
The command stunned me. And if we’re being honest, that’s exactly what it was. He knelt before me, kissing my feet, but
He stiffened. Cleared his throat. “A…naughty kiss?”
“Hmm. After that?”
His chin wobbled a bit. A flush rose on his cheeks. “A…um…foot rub.”
“Ah yes.” I snaked my leg around his under the table. He flinched. “That was it. A foot rub. Do you like giving foot rubs, Jimmy?” All his muscles locked. But not because of my words. It was my naughty foot, skating up his bristly calf, and over onto his thigh, that snagged his attention.
I brushed the top of my foot against his cock, just a tease.
He closed his eyes and shuddered.
“Do you?”
He captured my questing toes and held them still. “Where?” His voice was low and gruff and vibrated with a snarling tension. His thumb eased over my arch, but slowly. I had the sense he was trying to resist a temptation, but couldn’t.
“The sofa?”
His gaze snapped into the living room and without a word, he bounded to his feet. His cock bobbled with the movement. “Okay.” Gruff. Gravelly. Impatient. “Let’s do this thing.”
He grabbed my hand and tugged me into the living room then guided me down onto the couch. Most of the oil had soaked in but there was a hint of it clinging to my skin. It was a decadent slide against the buttery leather.
And then, he knelt before me and looked up at me.
It struck me, once more, how beautiful he was. And I’m not just saying that because he was kneeling before me and about to worship my feet. It was the cant of his head, the shimmer in his eyes. The glaze of his besotted expression.
There is nothing more irresistible than a man besotted.
I set my right foot on his thigh.
He didn’t release my gaze; his eyes burned into mine.
Slowly, he reached for me, skimming his warm fingers over my foot and up around my ankle. He did this for a long, long while as I shifted impatiently. This was not what I had in mind. I had expected—
But then he did it. He cupped my heel in a palm and lifted my foot to his mouth. And he kissed it. It was a reverent kiss, slow and lingering. With his mouth, he explored my arch, my toes, the delicate bone on the side. Licking and laving and nibbling now and again.
I wanted to watch him, wanted to take in every ecstatic flicker on his face, but the sight of his cock, riding high, quivering, beading at the tip, distracted me.
I reached for it with my other foot, but he stopped me, a warning light in his eye. “No,” was all he said. Soft, but firm. Just no .
I knew if I so much as nudged him just then, he’d become undone.
And I wouldn’t get what I wanted, what I needed.
Frankly, that would be a tragedy of monumental proportions.
So I allowed him to make passionate love to my right foot, and then my left and then to my right again. Though he hadn’t touched my clit, and probably wouldn’t for a while, it was awake and humming with need. I could feel my body preparing for him, a bubbling, boiling cauldron of lust. I wanted him, needed him with a desperation I’d never known. But he needed this. So I let him take.
But seriously.
How long was this going to last? And wasn’t it supposed to be my reward?
“Jimmy…” I shifted on the leather. Dampness pooled between my thighs.
He peeped up at me, reluctant to take his attention from his prize, his jaw slack.
“Jimmy… You’re driving me crazy.”
His face broke into a grin, a beautiful smile that poleaxed me. “Am I?”
“This is torture. Hell!” It was. It was. Oh, it was lovely and delicious, but there were other body parts screaming for attention.
He chuckled. “Darling, sometimes you’ve got to go through hell before you get to heaven.”
I winced. “Don’t quote song lyrics to me,” I muttered. “I’m on vacation. The last thing I want to think about is work.”
“Then don’t.” He stroked my calf, up and down, in a drugging rhythm. “Touch yourself.”
The command stunned me. And if we’re being honest, that’s exactly what it was. He knelt before me, kissing my feet, but
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