Reckless (15 page)

His hands continued their pattern, but he added another piece. When his palms reach my shoulder blades, they circled out and down my arms. His skin touched mine and I shivered. I felt goose bumps prickling up the backs of my arms. I shivered from head to toe.

After awhile, he changed things up again, and pressed his thumbs deeply into the knots between my shoulder blades.
 

“Oh, god,” I blurted.

“Right there?” he chuckled.

“How did I get so tense?”

He laughed. “You’re probably like this all the time and never notice.”

“What?”

“This is your normal state. Or at least, it’s what you’ve become accustomed to. I’m trying to work you down to a more relaxed state. One you probably haven’t experienced since you were a little kid.”

I scoffed. “I doubt I was relaxed, even as a kid. You’ve met my parents.”

“You might be right. I guess that means you’re in for a treat. I’m going to knead all these knots out of your body until you’re a heap of floppy flesh.”

“Eww!” I giggled.

“You’re going to love it,” he purred as he slid his hands down and firmly clenched my ass.

I jerked as jolty pleasure sizzled in my hips.

He slid his hands down the sides of my legs, then pressed firmly as he slid his palms up the backs of them. His thumbs dug into the bottom of my butt, pressing up around my tail bone and finally curving across the crests of my pelvis. Lightning bolts coursed out from his fingertips, or my tense muscles, I wasn’t sure which.

“Oh, wow. Keep doing that.”

“You like having an ass massage?”

“Am I a slut if I say yes?”

“Only if you want to be,” he joked.

I giggled. “Can we do this every day?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

There was such finality to the way he said it, I knew I could have this any time I wanted it. Which would be daily. Well, maybe only three times a week. He was doing such a good job, I doubted I’d need it more often than that.

Wow.

Christos continued his firm hand-motions around my ass. Every time he did, he went harder, causing my pelvis to tip forward with each thrust, then tip back as he released. I almost felt like I was being taken from behind, in the conventional sense of the term. Yet I was still fully clothed, and I’m pretty sure my panties were going to be soaked before the massage was over, or in the next two seconds, whichever came first.

Christos shifted his weight around on the bed again as he stood up.

“Where are you going?” I begged. “Are we done?”

“Just getting started. Your feet need some love to.”

“Oh,” I said, relieved.

His weight pressed down on the bed near the bottom and he took one of my feet in his hands and laid it on his thigh. Thumbs slid across the sole of my foot, fingers caressed the sides, pressure, then release, pulsing motions toward my toes, electricity swirling to life then exiting in every direction.

“Uhhhh.” It was all I could manage to say.

After all the muscles in my foot felt creamy and relaxed, he repeated the process on the other side. Then he pressed down on the backs of my calves with considerable weight and rolled his hands toward my ankles several times.

When he was done, he shifted again and sat down on the backs of my legs while he forcefully pressed what I think were his forearms up my lower back, on either side of my spine. It was delicious.

Every time he pressed down and slid upward I moaned, “Oooohhhh,” like he was squeezing the sounds out of my body.

Slowly, I realized that his pelvis was now pressing against the ass of my jeans with every forward thrust. My immediate response was to arch my back, thrusting my butt into him.

“Mmmm, I think you’re starting to get warmed up,” he purred.

“Starting to? I’ve already melted. I’m a puddle of butter. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relaxed.” I pushed back with my hips, trying to somehow bridge the distance between his flesh and mine, but our clothes still blocked passage.

“Do me a favor,
agápi mou
?”

“Anything, love.”

“For now, keep relaxing. Lie still. I want to squeeze every drop of tension out of you.”

“But, Christos, I want you to feel good too.”

“You have no idea how much I’m enjoying this.”

“Really? But you’re doing all the work.”

“It’s simple The more relaxed you get, the bigger the smile on my face gets.”

“And other things” I asked. “Are they getting bigger too?”

“We’re talking sperm whale back here,” he chuckled.

“Thar she blows, Cap’n Ahab! ’Tis Moby Dork!” I laughed.

“Exactly.”

I eased my hips back down to the bed and he continued to knead the tension out of my back. He paused from his big motions to gently rub my neck with one hand. Oddly, I felt my throat suddenly relax. I didn’t know your throat could relax. “How did you do that?” I asked. My voice came out uncharacteristically breathy. I didn’t know I could
sound
like that.
I had bedroom voice!
Oh, wait. Getting excited.
Stay relaxed.

“Do what?” he mused.

“Relax my voice?”

“Your neck and throat are one big unit. It’s all connected. Now it’s time to turn over.” He went up on all fours.

I spiraled beneath him and stared into his eyes. In the faint glow of my nightstand lamp, they were a deep ocean blue. Bottomless. Like his devotion. “Hi,” I said huskily. “Do you like my sexy voice?”

He grinned. “The sexiest ever.” He slid his palms down my cheeks, across the sides of my neck, down my chest and across my breasts. Oh, my. Fireworks ignited in them and my nipples popped, straining tightly inside my bra.

“I should take my bra off, don’t you think?”

“Do we dare?” he winked.

I grinned. “Yes.”

He slid his hand expertly under my shirt and up my back. I arched and he unhooked it in a single motion.

I narrowed my eyes and said, “You’re way too good at that.”

“Practice makes perfect, just like my massaging skills.”

“Is that a good thing?” I asked doubtfully.

“Have you ever had a
bad
massage?”

“I’ve never even had a massage, until now.”

“A bad massage either feels like the masseuse isn’t doing anything, or like they’re cranking down on your muscles with pliers while trying to peel your skin off with sandpaper. I can recreate both, if you want to test it out.”

“No, I’ll opt for the good massage.”

“You sure?” He began tickling my ribs with feather fingers.

“Stop! Good massage! The kind only experience brings!” I giggled.

He smiled and slid his hands down my flat stomach.
 

“I think I want to take my bra off,” I said nervously. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he said warmly. “Whatever makes you most comfortable,
agápi mou
.”

I wiggled out of my bra and pulled it through my sleeve before tossing it on the floor.

“Better?” he asked.

I nodded.

The heels of his hands pressed gently down the center of my rib cage and fanned gently outward as he reached my pelvis.

“Mmmmm,” I moaned.

Then his hands slid up my sides, again tickling my ribs, but not nearly as intensely as a moment ago. It was electric. His palms circled my breasts and squeezed them softly through my shirt, then slid back down my stomach, his thumbs tracing down my center line and dancing over my navel.

Christos moved his body down toward my feet as his hands slid across the tops of my thighs, his thumbs prying between my inner thighs. He did this repeatedly and I felt an ember begin to glow between my legs. I slowly lost track of time as that ember ignited into a fire. He kept going, his thumbs now rubbing across my womanhood through my jeans, stroking mesmerizingly in longer and harder semi-circles until the fire in my pelvis was a roaring blaze.

My thighs had completely relaxed and opened to allow him free access. I was so ready.

“Christos?” I moaned.

“Yes,
agápi mou
?”

“I need you. Inside me. Now.”

“Your wish is my command,” he smiled cockily.

Cocky was good. I was all about the cock at that moment.

I had no idea what I was even talking about!

COCK!!!!!

SAMANTHA

Christos sat up and slid his shirt over his head. His abs were the first thing I saw. Evenly spaced, rigid, hard. Like armor. I stroked my fingers across them. I couldn’t wait for his shirt to come off.

“Mmmm,” he moaned. “Like those?”

“
Love
those,” I whispered. “Yummy to the millionth power.”

Now his shirt was up over his head, revealing his amazing chest with its soft, downy hair. My hands slid up, following the shirt, and I traced the script of his “Fearless” tattoo as he pulled the shirt all the way over his head. He tossed it to the floor and lowered his hands to his thighs.

I reached up to touch his massive shoulders and arms. I marveled at the intricate tattoos on both. He was so damn hot.

I grinned, “Christos, do you ever notice how hot you are?”

“I—”

I pressed my finger to his lips. “Of course you do.” I smiled.

He slid his hands under my ass, pulled my hips toward his. One hand supporting my back, he sat me up on his lap. I wrapped my legs around his waist, our chests inches apart.

I didn’t resist when he lifted my shirt over my head. It joined Christos’ shirt on the floor. I looked at our two shirts in a tangle on my rug. Somehow, they were sordidly symbolic. Christos and I were about to be similarly tangled.

My breasts were now fully exposed, my nipples tight with need. I leaned forward until they pressed against Christos.

Christos tipped his head back enough to gaze at my breasts. “Fuck, you are so totally fine, Samantha. You are perfect. Damn, you are unbelievable. Do
you
realize how hot
you
are?” he asked, biting his lower lip and wrinkling his nose with animalistic desire.
 

I was too shy to respond.

“When Mattel was making the Barbie doll,” he smiled, “they called God and asked him for your measurements.”

 
I rolled my eyes. “I think Mattel should file a cease and desist order against that joke.”

We laughed together.

“Let me put it another way,” Christos said, “every time I look at you, Samantha, I’m reminded of how perfect you are in every respect. Every last bit of you, inside and out. Your flawless skin, your tender heart. Your perfect curves and your unbridled joy. Your alluring eyes and your gorgeous laughter. You are the epitome of beauty, you are the ideal to which all women aspire. Your physical beauty makes Aphrodite weep with envy. She doesn’t have what you have. No other woman on this planet, or goddess above, does.” He let his words linger.

I was speechless, to say the least. My mouth hung open and I clamped it shut before a moth or whatever flew into it.

“So, should we take our pants off now?” he smiled cockily.

“Uh, yeah!” I joked.

“You wanna go first?”

“No, I’ll let you.” I lifted my legs and he slid his feet onto the floor.

He unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, then pulled them off. He was now down to socks and boxers. He stood up and faced me.

I savored every inch of him with my eyes. He was unbelievably constructed from top to bottom. His powerfully muscled legs were the pillars that supported his sleek, narrow hips. Wedging out from his pelvis were his rugged abs, the foundation for his massive chest and shoulders. His muscled arms hung at his sides like steel girders. And those god damn tattoos! Why were they so unbelievably sexy?!? On top of it all, like a golden monument, was that perfect face, angelic and devilish at the same time.
 

His eyes shone into me and I felt the heat between my legs intensify.

My eyes gravitated back toward the rod of iron hidden beneath his boxers, which were tented out comically. I stifled a laugh. Was I ruining the mood again? I couldn’t help myself. One step at a time.

“How many rings do you have in that circus tent of yours?” I giggled.

“Three,” he grinned. “Dancing elephants in one, lion taming in another, and a tiny car with a bunch of clowns hanging out in the last. Take your pick.”

“Are the clowns blowing bugles?” I smiled.

“No,” he frowned, “they’re girl clowns, and they’re blowing skin flutes.” He shook his head, smirking. “Come on, you were supposed to pick lion-taming. How is a crowded clown car sexy?”

“I can’t help it! I like clowns!” I laughed.
 

“You are so wrong,” he smiled his dimpled smile. “Now, quit stalling.”

It didn’t take long for my laughter to fade as I continued to take in his amazing body. His nearly naked, aroused, throbbing…BODY! His body! I was only looking at his body!

He stood in front of me smiling, enjoying the way my eyes were devouring him. “Your turn,
agápi mou
.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Um…you’re still wearing your socks.”

He peeled each one off.

All that was left between me and his clown bugle…were his boxers. My nerves rattled again, although not nearly as loudly as before my massage. I stalled anyway, looking for the most obvious distraction. “What about your boxers? You haven’t taken them off!” Suddenly, I realized this strategy was not going to help my nerves.

He slid his boxers down and stepped out of them casually.

Holy shit.

I mean, I’d seen it. I’d touched it, I’d shared a bed with it and Christos. Yes, it seemed sort of like a third person that snuggled between us at night. Because it was so very, very large. And it was pointing right at me. Like a cruise missile, laser sights targeting my…oh, my.

He smirked, and chuckled. Obviously, he was reading my mind. Or his guided missile had sonar, radar, and ESP-ar.

“Your turn,” he grinned. “Do you need help?”

“I’m pretty sure I can’t even move.” My eyes were glued to his Member’s Only
Member
, a club to which I was about to gain admittance. “I’m going to need some help, I think.”

I sat up on the edge of the bed, topless, braless, my breasts inches from his Holy Manhood, Batman.