My cock twitches, and I curse under my breath because now is not the time.
“Stay there,” he says, his voice commanding.
“Okay,” I say breathlessly. My dick is hard, and this is not a great position to be in, but I’ll be damned if he knows that.
I don’t know how to take Jordan sometimes. I see the way he looks at me when we’re alone. Catch him checking me out in the morning after I shower, or peeking at my ass in my paint-splattered jeans when I paint the cabinets. Or the way his gaze flashes to my mouth when we’re just talking. How it stays there a minute longer than what’s polite.
But then, just when I think we’re comfortable, he gets stand-offish. Moves to the other end of the couch. Closes his bedroom door and locks himself in there for hours.
Then he goes and pulls me onto his fucking lap and asks what I’d be willing to give him.
Doesn’t he know I’d give him everything if he only asked?
Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I’m too giving.
But what do I have left to give anyone? Britt thinks I’ve gotredeemingqualities, but I’m not sure what they are.
“Relax.” Jordan’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“O-okay.” I suck in a breath, not sure what he’s getting at.
“You’ve been doing good,” he says as he bends my leg back. I wince as he brings it back down.
“I’m trying,” I say honestly. He lays my leg back down and I hear a wet slapping sound. My cock twitches, and I look over my shoulder to see Mack rubbing lotion into his hands. I watch the way his long, thick fingers move before he settles them at my ankle and slowly applies pressure up my calf. I hiss because the muscle is tight, and when he gets to my knee, I groan.
“Pressure okay?” he asks.
I nod, unable to speak.
It hurts, but it feels good. Relieving, even.
“Yeah, it’s good. A little pain won’t kill me,” I say sarcastically. “My threshold’s pretty damn high.”
He presses harder, and I gasp as he digs his finger right into my muscle. The pain is sharp and he pushes his thumbnail upwards.
“How about now?” he asks, his voice professional, but his touch bordering brutal.
“All good,” I say as he lets up.
He starts at my ankle again, repeating the motion, but this time his fingers slide over the back of my knee, up a little higher. He uses both hands to massage my thigh, each pass feeling better.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
My brain feels weird. I don’t want him to stop. I want him to keep touching me like this.
I shake my head; I can’t breathe. My cock aches, and it takes everything in me not to grind against the table.
I laugh. “Didn’t think I’d need a safe word for therapy.”
The words are taunting, sarcastic. I expect him to give me shit or make some quip like he usually does when I make a comment like that, but he doesn't.
His voice is curious.
“You ever use one?” he asks carefully.
“Huh?” I look at him over my shoulder. His shoulders tense as he uses both hands to massage my leg. He digs into the muscle then releases. Dig. Release. It feels so good.
I hadn’t realized how tense my muscles were until now.
