Gloria's Forever (Gloria Book 3) (15 page)
“Why?” I ask.
“A lot of reasons. The amnesia, the wedding, going back to work. And I have some other personal shit I’m dealing with. A crisis.”
“You
do
have a lot stuff going on,” I agree, wondering what his personal crisis is all about. Something other than his amnesia-induced identity issue?
I knead his knots, but they’re not loosening up. “You’re carrying a load of stress in your upper back. If it’s okay by you, I need to straddle you so I can go deeper.”
“Be my guest.”
As the next Kenny G selection plays, I climb onto the table and mount him, so that my legs straddle his hips. It’s a good thing I’m wearing stretchy yoga pants. Not the most ass-flattering thing I own, but they’re comfy and functional.
The soothing lavender scent of the massage oil wafts up my nose as I press my fingers deep into his flesh and make circular motions. His skin is like warm velvet and glistens from the sheen of the oil. The touch of his hard ass against my center intensifies the flutters. My fingertips burn at the touch of his skin. I’m working up a sweat. As I work him deeper and deeper, leaning into him and using my elbows, my breasts brush against his glistening flesh. My nipples harden beneath my tight sports bra. His massage—or should I say my massage—is arousing me. Sending pulsing sensations to my cunt. I’m a hot, wet mess. I suppress a moan of my own while he groans.
“Oh, yeah.”
He sounds like a man on the verge of a major orgasm. As I make my way down his muscular back, I have the burning urge to drag my tongue along his spine and taste him and then press my lips against his skin and kiss him everywhere. My body is burning with lust and desire. It takes all I have to concentrate on the massage.
Ten heated minutes later, I tell him I’ve worked out all the knots.
“I feel so much better.”
“Good. Before you turn over, I want to massage your feet.”
I unstraddle him—far from a graceful move—and stagger to the end of the table. Touching him has made me want to touch myself. “Bend up your right foot.”
He complies wordlessly. After squirting more of the massage oil on my palms, I take his foot into his my hands. I admire the length and shape of it—so elegant and manly. And the skin is soft, not calloused. I begin to press my thumbs deep into the sole.
He hisses.
Good. He’s releasing stress. I squeeze and pull each of his toes. The truth: I’d rather be sucking them.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs.
Silently, I repeat my motions with his other foot. His moans and groans are louder, and he cusses again under his breath. Foot massage, formally called reflexology, is very powerful. It’s called reflexology because the nerves in your foot connect to all the nerves in the organs of your body. What you feel in your feet can be felt elsewhere in your body. There’s even one spot that connects to your genitals. Women, in particular, have reported achieving orgasms when that spot is massaged.
I ask Brandon to flip over. With a groan, he twists onto his back.
As Kenny G’s moving rendition of the
Titanic
love song filters into my ears, my eyes widen. Make that pop out of their sockets. Holy shit! His eyes closed, he’s got a Titanic erection. I underestimated it. It’s fucking monstrous! And it’s straining against his boxers. Begging to burst through the slit. My breath catches in my throat; my heart beats like a jackrabbit’s. I’ve seen plenty of cocks but nothing like this. Gah! I have a decision to make—let it sail or let it sink. I opt for neither.
The melody of the haunting song plays on. I’ve forgotten how much this song affects me. Auntie Jo and Pops took me to see the epic movie with Jeffrey opening day for my tenth birthday. Little did they know it would end with a drowning. Like Mama’s. In the ocean no less. I bawled my eyes out and made myself sick. So sick I had to stay home from school the next day. The unforgettable lyrics play in my head:
Every night in my dreams
I see you. I feel you.
Tears well up in my eyes. I think of Mama. I think of
him.
“Brandon, we’re done.” I barely manage to croak the words.
*
BE SURE TO ADD
UNFORGETTABLE
TO YOUR GOODREADS TBR LIST!
Nelle L’Amour is a
NEW YORK TIMES
and
USA TODAY
Bestselling Author who lives in Los Angeles with her Prince Charming-ish husband, twin teenage princesses, and a bevy of royal pain-in-the-butt pets. A former executive in the entertainment and toy industries with a prestigious Humanitus Award to her credit, she gave up playing with Barbies a long time ago but still enjoys playing with toys with her husband. While she writes in her PJs, she loves to get dressed up and pretend she’s Hollywood royalty. She writes juicy stories with characters that will make you laugh, cry, and swoon. And stay in your heart forever.
In addition to the
Gloria Trilogy
, she is the author of the international bestselling
THAT MAN
series, the
Seduced by the Park Avenue Billionaire
boxed set, and the critically acclaimed Amazon bestseller,
Undying Love.
Her newest series,
Unforgetttable
, will be published in Spring 2015
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Click on the covers to read about and/or purchase.
Seduced by the Park Avenue Billionaire
An Erotic Love Story
Gloria
