by Joey W. Hill
“Thank you, Ella. Let’s start with the therapeutic massage. I’ll decide how I want to enjoy you as that unfolds.”
Focusing on the requirements of the therapeutic massage while anticipating what the second part of his desires might be wasn’t going to be easy. She expected he didn’t intend it to be.
“Yes, sir. I’ll cover you for a few minutes with the heated blanket, then remove it and we’ll get started. I recommend clients simply relax in silence during those few minutes. Get into the right headspace to turn themselves over to my hands and care.”
His gaze coursed over her in the T-shirt and shorts. “I can do that. Soon as you move back up here and do what I told you to do.”
She moved to the side of the table, well within his view and reach. The shorts were easiest to remove first, so she did that, shimmying out of them. As she did, the snug fabric pulled on her panties, taking them halfway off her hips. His gaze tracked the exposed flesh and he reached out.
She stilled as he slid his fingertips over the upper curve of her buttock, around to the hip bone in front. The expansive caress rippled nerve endings all the way to her labia. Then he drew his hand back and gestured to her to proceed.
She eased the panties back into place after she’d dropped the shorts, stepped out of them and put them aside. Reaching under the back of her shirt, she unclipped the bra and pulled the straps off through the short shirt sleeves before easing the whole garment off by pulling it free of one sleeve. All required clothes now set aside, she waited, so he could gaze at her, top to toe.
The more time she spent with a Dom, the more time she spent cataloging his reactions, so she could learn his unique nonverbal language. The set of Wolf’s face, the flicker in his gaze, the rigidity of his limbs, told her he approved. Deeply and dangerously.
Closing his eyes, he shifted so his hands were folded on his upper abdomen, his face turned square to the ceiling again.
She pulled out the heated sheet and laid it over him, from his shoulders to tucked over his feet. As she’d explained, she could do a normal massage, where she kept a person mainly under the cover, only revealing the area she was handling. When it was a sensual massage, the person usually liked to be slowly revealed, particularly a woman. Ella would gradually tug a sheet below the breasts or above a leg, across a groin, at a key moment.
Wolf wanted the blanket removed once she deemed his muscles were sufficiently warmed, so she’d be dealing with him completely nude. If he did want things to turn in a sexual direction, he might want her proportionately smaller hand wrapped firmly around his thick length. She imagined his growl if she teased him with featherlike touches along that impressive shaft. The idea made her smile and her inner muscles tighten.
It wasn’t the first time she’d done a massage while aroused. But her hands and stomach were a little shakier than usual. That feeling only increased as she obeyed his wishes and folded the blanket back in segments until she reached his feet and removed it completely.
Seeing him stretched out before her in such a display of virile male beauty required a moment’s pause to savor. So as she returned to his head, adding the oil to her hands she would use, she let her gaze rest upon him. He’d said she could look, after all.
She noticed his cock first, because well, it was in the center of things. It lay at rest against his thigh, but even in that state, it was an impressive length and girth, just as his arousal under his jeans had suggested plenty of times while doing a session. He was smooth down there, no hint of any razor stubble. She wondered if he lasered, because he didn’t seem the type.
He was utterly beautiful, but in a rough-cut way, as if every muscle in his arms, chest, shoulders, back and legs had come from hard use. With barely a change in his expression, he could go from impassive unreadability to looking like he was ready to break whatever crossed him into bits.
She thought about him a lot, but in relation to how he made her feel. Now she put that aside, because he was here for a massage. It was time to think about the man, separate from his significant impact on her. Normally she took these meditative few minutes to really look at the person on her table, and feel what they might need. Who they were, before she laid hands on the person and learned even more about who he or she was, beneath the skin.
“This is a very peaceful space,” he said, his eyes still closed. “I like the fan on the curtains. Reminds me of being in the mountains, taking a nap with the windows open.”
“What mountains?”
“I’ve been in a lot of them. I remember terrain more than I do location. Sometimes it’s nice, not to have to worry about where you are in the world. No address. No need to put it in context of anything else. Kind of like the earliest explorers. It was just one big park or garden.”
“I like that,” she said, smiling a little.
His eyes opened, held hers. He lifted a hand, brushed his knuckles over her breast, just beneath the bump of her nipple, prominent in the thin T-shirt. “Anyone else been touching these?”
She shook her head. “No sir.” Her breath caught as he kept stroking, watching the nipple respond to his touch, harden and lengthen. As he touched her, his cock did the same, but eventually he took his hand away.
“Good. You can get started.”
She’d contemplated too long, rubbing the oil too deeply into her skin. Grimacing at herself, she refreshed it, and then she was ready.
She began with his hands and arms. People were used to touch in those areas, so it helped them relax faster. Starting at the armpit and biceps and moving down the limb, she worked the oil in, massaging the muscles, noting any tension spots. When she reached his thick wrists and then his hands, she interlaced fingers with him and rotated hers, taking his along for the spin.
It was an intimate, slightly playful part of the process. When she glanced up, she found him watching her through half-closed eyes, his lips curved. “What does that do?”
“It loosens the muscles between the fingers.”
“Hmm.” He didn’t say anything else for awhile. She did her best to do as she was supposed to do, see each part of the body as a group of muscles, not a part of Wolf she was getting to intimately touch.
She wasn’t successful in that, but as she continued to work on him, and he stayed quiet, time slowed. When she returned to the head of the table and eased her hand beneath his shoulders to work his scapula, she found tension. It was a common area for it. She pushed her fingers into the hard masses of muscle, working out the kinks to give him ease. She knew he was a big man, broad shouldered, but having them under her hands told her she’d underestimated their size and strength. Brownie had been right. It was like massaging iron.
She felt the burn in her arms and back. Sometimes she and Brownie gave one another a quick massage at the end of a grueling session to ensure they didn’t kink up themselves. This appointment might call for that.
She moved back down his side, began to work on his left leg. She often closed her eyes when she massaged, to increase the reception in her fingertips. As she worked up to the thigh, she felt something curious, explored around it. “You have scar tissue here, beneath the skin.”
She opened her eyes as he folded an arm beneath his head and looked down toward her, an unconscious yet very distracting Michael Stokes calendar pose. “Yeah,” he said. “It goes across to here.” He used his finger to draw a line over hers on his upper thigh. He moved it across his body, directly over his groin area, and curved up to his rib cage on the opposite side. If the scar tissue along the track was as deep as what she felt on his upper thigh, she couldn’t imagine how he’d survived with his reproductive organs intact—or survived at all.
When her hand tightened in reaction on his leg, Wolf, returned his hand to hers to caress her suddenly tense knuckles.
“No worries, little girl. It happened years ago. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
There was the slightest of pauses before he said the last part, as if he meant only one kind of pain, th
e least important kind.
“You can talk about it if you want,” she ventured. “I’m not asking because I’m curious, though I am. This is a good place to speak words to the silence, if that makes sense. I won’t say anything. I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing.”
He grunted in acknowledgement, but said nothing more. She continued her work. As she rubbed from the taut buttock to the heel, she felt a new level of tension. So when she worked on his foot and he twitched, she feathered her fingers over the long sole and earned another jerk.
“Ticklish?” She shot him an impish look. The shadows disappeared from his gaze, that stiffness under her fingers easing some.
He snorted. “I will spank you, little girl. And it won’t be pleasant.”
If he used the heated flat of his hand, she didn’t care how much it hurt, she’d enjoy every moment of it. But she tucked in a smile and returned to her massage.
She moved to the front of the leg and worked back to the top, going laterally from the groin area to the outside of the hip, learning and exploring every muscle group. Then she switched legs to do the same process over again.
When at last she was done with everything she did while her client was on his back, she was pleased to see he was sunk more deeply into the cushioning of the massage table, evidence that the muscles had released.
“Now you need to turn over on your stomach.”
He complied with a reluctant grumble that made her smile. It satisfied her deeply, that she was giving him ease. What stresses did he face? Who was he, outside of Club Atlantis? Some staff members, like Madelyn and Lars, became comfortable enough to reveal some pieces about who they were outside the club walls. Wolf never spoke of it.
She returned to the head of the table and began to work on his neck, shoulders, upper back. As she did, Wolf curved his hands around her upper thighs, holding her. His palms sent heat tingling over her backside, her lower back. His thumbs swept the curve of her buttocks and tucked themselves into the crease between cheek and thigh.
“They say if a woman can carry a pencil in that area, she needs to work on her glutes,” Ella managed.
“If I had my way, they’d all be able to carry a jumbo magic marker,” he rumbled. “Nothing so nice as a round, soft ass. It’s the way nature intended women to be.”
“Oh, that so? You have a direct line to management about that?”
He cupped her buttocks fully, squeezed. It pulled her against the edge of the table, and she shuddered as the cushion of her clit pressed against the padded edge, a friction that increased because of her massage movements. He rubbed her ass in idle circles, building the arousal in her lower regions.
“You have to ask?” he said. “Doms are the closest things to God you can experience on earth. It’s why our subs are always calling us that. At certain key moments.”
Ella chuckled, though her brow furrowed as she detected more scar tissue between his shoulder blades. “That’s where my wings were,” he said, his voice muffled as he kept his head in the depression that allowed a client to lie face down comfortably.
“A fallen angel. That I can believe.”
She earned a pinch for that remark, but not a hard one. Then he withdrew his touch to allow her to move to his side. She leaned down to place her elbow against his back. Since the position put her very close to him, she had to resist the desire to put her mouth on the muscle group she was manipulating.
He showed no such restraint. Now as she worked around him, he took every opportunity to caress her hips, her thighs, her buttocks. His hands were moving over her the way hers moved over him, a flow. They became one creature; he touched and she moved with him, fluid and perfect and nothing needing to be said.
When she completed the last muscle group, she’d sweated through her T-shirt in the warm space. It was sticking to her skin. Since he’d said no bra, it was as effective as a wet T-shirt contest.
He’d turned his head and was looking his fill. Her nipples were stiff and large. When he adjusted his hips, she suspected he was getting aroused again.
She was more than willing to massage that part of him if he so desired it. Her thigh muscles were tight thanks to the throbbing between her legs.
He was well aware of all that. It was in the lazy way his eyes rested upon her, sure of his hold on her senses. Yet he said nothing, expecting her to complete the massage as promised. Denial only increased the ache.
She was tempted to pitch the stones at his head, so was proud that her voice came out a soothing murmur. “Next I’ll do hot rocks,” she said. “They won’t burn you, don’t worry. I’ll move them off you quickly.”
She went to the container that held them, picked up one in tongs and came back, dropping it where it needed to go. She rolled it quickly over his skin with the flat of her palms before removing it and doing it several more times with different rocks. He stayed relaxed under her touch, just as he should when she was doing it right.
Even with her muscles worn out from the strenuous exercise, she would have done it all over again for the chance to keep her hands on him. Instead, she made herself step back and pick up a towel, wiping her hands.
“I’m finished, but I recommend you lie there a few more minutes. Just come back to earth at your own pace, so to speak.”
He shifted, turning to his back again. With effort, she kept her attention on his face, which became easier when he extended a hand to her. She put hers in his grasp, watched it disappear as his long fingers closed over it. “You took good care of me, Ella. Thank you.”
His steady gaze made her flush, which seemed silly, given how much time she spent indulging in sexually explicit behavior. But his look flustered her, so intent, penetrating. He noticed her in a way no one else did.
Talk about an alarm flag. Don’t do the “no one else makes me feel this way” thing. There’s nothing down that road. Except the illusion there was something there that wasn’t. She knew she had exceptional intuition about a lot of things, but whether a person was meant for her specifically or not wasn’t one of them. Maybe the Powers That Be did it deliberately, ensuring even an intuitive soul couldn’t locate their deepest wish so easily.
Still, she had no desire for him to release her hand. So she set the unsettling thoughts aside. She could absorb a safe amount of what she was feeling from him. She could give herself just enough of the fantasy to feed her soul, without getting lost in it.
Hadn’t she said she preferred not to be honest with herself around Wolf?
Her gaze slid to the center of the table. During the massage, when he’d been on his back, he’d been semi-aroused at times, his cock like a restive animal, twitching against his thigh. Now he was fully erect. Her heart thumped into her throat and the tissues between her legs contracted, like they had when he’d been fondling her ass. She could feel the moisture collected along her labia as she shifted.
“Do you want that?” Wolf said in an even tone.
“Yes, sir.”
“Go lock the door and put your back to it. Hands behind you.”
She let her hand slip from his loosened grip. It seemed a long three steps to the door, but she made it on trembling legs. She flipped the lock. When she turned, he’d sat up and put his feet on the floor. He rose, a tall, erect, dark-skinned god with piercing eyes, targeting her.
He sidestepped to the electric candles, met her gaze and switched them off, a full blackout except for the strip of light under the door, coming from the hallway.
In the darkness, there was nothing but him and her. Without being able to see his face, there was nothing for her to measure or judge, calculate. She wondered what the darkness brought him, why he preferred it. Then she decided she didn’t want to probe too deeply, in case she came up with ideas about that which would hurt her, take away from this moment.
If he could see in the dark, a fanciful notion, was it like blindfolding her, where he could see her every reaction, and she could see none of his? She wanted to see that look in his ey
es he had when he looked at her. But he had other ideas.
As she waited, she realized she couldn’t hear him. She could feel his presence, filling the small space, but she heard nothing. No shifts of his body, no breathing.
But the heat increased, the warmth, the sense of being surrounded. She trembled, knowing a moment before it happened that he was close enough to touch her. His fingers slid along her arm, so slow and easy. Up across her breasts, knuckles brushing her nipples, grazing the tips, back and forth, back and forth. She shuddered, bit back a whimper of need, her hips jerking a little as more moisture touched her inner thigh.
“A few minutes ago, when I was holding your hand, you went away from me, Ella.” His voice was a molasses-rich murmur. “Where did you go? Did you protect yourself from me?”
“No sir. From myself. From wanting more than I’m allowed to have.”
“Do you think I’m kind, Ella?”
“You…um. Yes. You’re kind to me.”
“I need to show you a different side of myself, then.”
She gasped as he lifted her in one swift movement. Pushing her back against the door, he dropped to one knee and draped her legs over his shoulders. He held her suspended, one palm flat on her chest, fingers spread over her cleavage, the other arm around her hips. His mouth settled on her pussy, tongue stabbing through silky cloth.
“I’ve wanted my mouth on your cunt from the moment I saw these panties,” he muttered.
He was the strongest man who’d ever handled her. She couldn’t move, not even to wriggle in sensual abandon. He kept her still with the strength of his hands alone, and one uttered command.
“Be quiet, little one. Silent as a mouse.”
She felt the scrape of one of those canines that had bitten through her skin only a few days before. She heard a soft, prolonged scrich noise, and realized he’d used that tooth to split the crotch of the panties. Not torn with the rough tug of motion she’d expect, but a slit of almost surgical precision. The man knew how to use those sharper teeth in diabolical ways. When his tongue stabbed through the rip he’d made, the firm, heated curl of it penetrating her convulsing tissues, she couldn’t stop herself.