Adam's Thorn (25 page)

“All right?’ she asked.  Cool
voice, professional. 

He relaxed a little more.  “Mmmm.”

Lost in the pleasant sweep of her
hands.

And then she got serious, her
fingers finding knots he had no idea existed.  Man, they hurt, and she kneaded
them expertly.  Or at least, he thought it was expertly, he really had no idea,
never having had a massage before.

“You sure this should hurt?”  He
clenched his teeth as she worked a knot at the side of his spine.

“Not agony, but it can be a little
uncomfortable,” she replied.  “If it gets too sore let me know.”

Amazingly, he trusted her.  Closing
his eyes, he again tried to relax.

In between working the knots, her
hands stroked across him, soothing, spreading the oil.

And the heat.  He couldn’t believe
how warm her palms were becoming.  Or maybe it was just his skin.

He was almost asleep, it was so
good.

And then Barbie moved, coming to
stand at the top of the table.  “Arms flat by your sides, Adam.”

Okaaaay
.  He did as bidden,
curious as to what she’d do now.

Her fingers lightly touched his
cheek.  “Just stay still, rest on your cheek.”

Holy cow, she was bending over
him.  His eyes popped open as he realised that she was leaning over him, her
hands running over his shoulders from top to down his back.

This way he could smell her light
scent, see the white of her dress as she moved in front of him.  Above him.

Above him involved thoughts that
led down the slippery slope of decadence, of the kind of position he’d really
like to see her above him. 
Oh yeah.  Or maybe naked, her thighs close to
his head so all he had to do was lift his head, grasp her hips, drag her close
and slide his tongue through tight curls to the slickness beyond, sweet plump
labia, and she’d cry out and grab onto his shoulders, nails digging in as he
tongued her and - Stop!

Trying to drive the thoughts away,
he concentrated on her fingers as she moved back, the way she kneaded his
shoulders, feeling, touching, stroking, kneading again, finding the knots and
working them.

Eliciting little sparks of pain. 
Funny how close to pleasure they could be if one thought about -
damn it
.

“Are you all right?”  Her quiet
voice slid though his senses like warm honey.

Almost immediately he relaxed, as
though her voice was magic casting a soothing spell over him.  “Fine,” he murmured.

“Good.”  She continued to work his
muscles, moving to his arms, working along the biceps and triceps, one arm at a
time, even sliding her fingers through his, kneading his palms.

Oh God, it was amazing.  He felt
like he could drift in this pleasant haze forever.

His feet were next, and he
couldn’t stop another groan of bliss.  Her soft laugh was like gentle music to
his ears, and when she worked his calf, his lashes fluttered.  Oh God, that was
amazing
.

Up the back of his knee, higher up
his thighs. 
Whoa
.  He blinked, opening his eyes.  Those capable little
hands were working the insides of his thigh with dexterity, sure and firm,
moving higher.

Shit, if she moved her hands any
higher, she was going to encounter something that would have a life of its own.

Shit
, it already had a life
of its own.  Adam held his breath as he felt the stirring in his loins. 
Uh-oh
.

Higher her hands went, brushing
the hem of the towel that laid low across his backside.  Any higher and she’d
feel just how tight his nuts were getting.

The heel of her hands kneaded
across the back of his thigh, fingers moving to the outer side.

Oh crap, his body was starting to stir. 
Every sweep of her hand on his thigh had little sparks sputtering to life
inside him, his shaft angrily demanding room to move.

 Thank God it was pressed flat
beneath him.

Barbie moved to his other calf,
but any chance of relaxing was now gone.  He could feel every sweep of her hand
on his calf, his mind wandering into dangerous territory.

What would it feel like if those
capable, strong little hands were
on
his shaft?  Rubbing it, massaging,
making it feel so bloody
good
.

Stop it.  Stop it!

And then her hands were higher,
firming up his thighs, and blood pooled low and hot in his loins, spreading to
his shaft more urgently.

He tried counting sheep.  He tried
counting fire hoses.  He tried imaging freezing ice cubes on his pecker, but
the bastard took no notice. It wanted freedom.  It wanted a nice, snug, wet
sheath to bury itself into and-

Hands slid under the towel, fingers
smoothing over his buttocks, making him jump.

She stopped.  “Adam?”

“Yeah?”  God, was that his deep,
husky voice?

“Is this okay?”

Okay?  It was freakin’ decadent
. 
A curvy, lush woman with soft lips and firm hands was stroking along his arse. 
It was part of a wet dream.

He just hoped he didn’t leave a
spot on the table when he got up.  Wouldn’t that be awkward?

“Fine,” he managed to rasp. “Guess
I have a knot there.”

No, the knot was in his balls.

“I’ll see if I can find it.”  She
started kneading gently, working his glutes.

Making his eyes cross.

Hands under his chin, he gritted
his teeth, closed his eyes, popped them open again because having them closed
meant all sensation was centred on her hands.

On his bare arse.

He actually shivered when her thumb
stroked along the crack between his bum cheeks.

True professional that she was,
she didn’t comment.

Horny bastard that he was, he
worried about his pecker panting on the table under  him, leaving a
discriminating wet patch.  Heat beat in that one spot, intensified by his
weight on it.  He never knew he could have a silent argument with his pecker.

Let me up.

No.

I want freedom!

Stay down.

Give me a woman’s slick
secrets.

Stay down!

Give me Barbie’s wet heat.

Stop it!

Man, you could have her on this
table, bend her right over, and I could be shoving deep inside and-

Oh yeah. 
Actually, he
couldn’t help thinking what a great idea that sounded like. 
Oh no.

You could make her scream.  We
could make her scream.

Yeah, heh heh.
He clenched
his fists. 
No.  No!

Her hands stopped their delicious
torture on his buttocks, hands sliding out from beneath the towel.   Oh, thank
God.  He could recover and-

“Roll over.”

Uh-oh
.  That was a whole
new problem.  If he rolled over, his pecker would shove up like a flag pole,
waving for victory.  Thick and full of hot blood.

He cleared his throat. “Um…”

“I’ll do your chest and the front of
your shoulders and legs.”

There was only one thing for it. 
“There could be a problem.”  When silence greeted this announcement, he
couldn’t help but turn his head to see her.

Barbie met his gaze.  Cool and
calm, how the bloody hell did she do it?  Did she not feel anything?

His ego felt a bit crushed.  Go
figure.  He’d never actually realised he had an ego until right at that second.

“Erections are perfectly natural,”
she said quietly.  “It happens.  Sometimes you can’t control physical
reactions.”

Control?  He’d have a hard time
keeping it down even if he put a brick on it.

“Roll over,” she repeated.

His eyebrows shot up.  Really? 
She wasn’t embarrassed?  Then why the hell was he worried about her reaction? 
If she was used to this kind of thing happening, fine.  He certainly wasn’t
going to act like Shy Annie.  He’d never been shy about his body around a woman,
so he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

Barbie turned away as he shifted
on the table.

Settling himself back, he placed
the towel across his loins, keeping it bunched in his hand in an attempt to
keep his wayward pecker under control.  It pressed demandingly up against the
towel.  Nope, it wanted free rein.

Throwing one arm across his brow,
Adam watched Barbie from beneath the shadow of his arm.

“Are you all right to continue?”
She flipped the CD player open and withdrew the CD.

“Go for it.”  Oops, he did sound a
little throaty?  He cleared his throat.

She glanced at him.

Well, look at that.  Her cheeks
had just a tinge of pink in them.  How interesting.

He studied her as she slid another
CD into the player.  The dress might be like a uniform but it hugged her waist
and breasts, outlining the lush curves pleasingly.  When she bent slightly to
adjust the volume, the skirt caressed that rounded backside just like his hands
suddenly ached to.  His hand on the towel actually flexed in anticipation.

Turning, she caught his narrow-eyed
gaze, an uncertain expression crossing her face.  “Is something wrong?”

Was it wrong to want to grab a
good handful of your masseur’s luscious bottom and drag her over to the table,
to yank her down and rip that zipper open, pull aside the bra confining those
pillowy breasts and feast on pink nipples?

Probably.

Inhaling deeply, trying to divert
her attention from the towel he was clutching to his belly, he managed to
answer, “Do you have anything else besides that music?”

“You don’t like the ocean?  It’s
soothing.”

Well, it wasn’t bloody working. 
“I heard ABBA playing the other week when I came here.”

She stared at him.  “ABBA? 
Really?”

“Yeah.  How about that?”

“Well, yes, but-”

He flashed her a sudden grin,
amused at her disconcertion at having her usual routine disturbed.  “It’s my
birthday.  You know, day off, special day. All important.”

Unexpectedly, her lips twitched,
pale blue eyes crinkling engagingly at the corners in amusement.  “In that
case, I guess you can have the choice.  Be right back.”

He watched her walk all the way
out the door before blowing out a breath and shifting his arm to stare up at
the ceiling.  Jesus, he was on a thin rope here.

Damn his libido.

Damn his uncontrollable pecker.

Damn him for not being honest.  It
wasn’t his pecker or his libido, it was him.  Her.  He was attracted to her, to
her scent, her generous, full figure, her laughter, her fire, her every
demeanour.

When had that happened?  And why?

He was still puzzling over it when
Barbie came back through the door with a CD case in her hand.  Sliding the CD
into the player, she commented, “Don’t blame me if this isn’t relaxing.”  She
cast him a sideways glance as the music throbbed through the room.  “I’ll turn
it down.  Okay?”

“Sure.”  Closing his eyes, he
breathed deep, trying to centre himself, losing himself in the music.

It worked for about ten seconds,
then her hands were on his chest and every nerve ending went up on tip-toe. 
Hello!

Now he could see her, looking his
full of her from beneath his eyelashes.

Her gaze was focussed on her hands
running over his body, her soft lips closed, her gaze following the movements
of her hand.

Oil slicked across his skin, her
fingers running across his pecs, his flat nipples pebbling against her palms.

Not once did her face betray her
thoughts as she kneaded his muscles.

Goosebumps prickled along his
skin, fire licking underneath.  Every sweep of her hands, every slide of her
fingers across his skin.

The ponytail bobbed enchantingly
as she worked.  A soft blush stole into her cheeks, and he wondered in a
pleasant haze if she was actually feeling something, or was she just growing
warmer with the exertion?

God, he could feel her, and he was
starting to have a hard time breathing evenly.  When she shifted to stand above
his head to knead his shoulders, he had to bite back a groan of pleasure, and when
she leaned over him, her hands sliding over his shoulders and across his pecs,
he had to fist his hands to stop himself from reaching up and grabbing two
handfuls of generous bosom.

Talk about sweet, tantalising
torture.

He couldn’t stop the jerk of his
abdominal muscles when her hands started smoothing oil along them, strong
fingers sliding across each and every swell.

Was it his imagination or did she
linger just a little?  His eyes popped open when one finger tip slipped into
his belly button, but when his gaze shot to her face, nothing betrayed her
thoughts or intentions.

Did she have intentions?  Carnal
intentions?

Her hands smoothed dangerously
close to where he gripped the towel in one hand, but without flinching, she
left his stomach, moving down to his feet.

Ah God, the feel of her touch,
fingers sliding between his toes and under the arch of his feet, stroking along
the top and circling his ankle.

He was going to come in the towel,
he just knew it, especially when she moved up his leg, running her fingers
along his calf.  Even when she kneaded painfully at a knot in the side of his
calf, he couldn’t drag his thoughts from the carnal desire building inside him.

Higher she went, gradually higher,
smooth sweeps of her hands, kneading of her fingers, caressing, soothing,
pressing, coming so close to the edge of the towel, so very close…

He found that he was actually
holding his breath, letting it go with a whoosh when she stopped and moved
around to his other leg.

She glanced at him, and he could
swear he saw a fire in her pale eyes, a new flush to those sweet apple cheeks.

Fire crawled under his skin, pooling
low in his loins, skittering under his skin in his abdomen to dance down low,
especially when her fingers kneaded along his inner thigh.