Confessions of a Bad Boy(78)

“Impressive,” she says, eyeing me up and down in the mirror. “You certainly don’t do things the easy way.”

“I prefer the hard way,” I tell her, checking out the curve of her breasts like I’m about to paint a portrait of them. It’s all I can do to keep myself from just grabbing her and sitting her down in my lap.

“So do I,” she purrs, running a hand across my back. She steps closer, standing behind me with the bench between her legs. Then she puts both hands on my shoulders and starts pressing and rubbing.

“Shit that’s good,” I say, closing my eyes at the deeply sweet touch of her hands – the only thing that could stop me from enjoying the ravenous eye-f*cking she’s been giving me in the mirror.

“It should be,” she says, a tinge of amusement in her voice. “I’m a massage therapist here. With all the time you spend working out, I’m surprised you haven’t stopped in for a session by now.”

“So you’ve seen me around,” I growl. She rubs harder, massaging a knot next to my shoulder blade until it loosens, and I groan out loud. “Damn. Maybe it is time to see about that session.”

“Good, because you’re way past due. And I’m not gonna wait any longer.” She leans down toward my ear, her long blonde hair brushing my shoulder, and says in a low whisper, “I teach a yoga class, too.”

Her words hit me like a shot of adrenaline to the cock. I close my eyes and let her work me some more, lust building with the sensation of her palms kneading the base of my neck and the scent of her as she leans over me. I let out another low moan.

Looks like Jax might be drinking by himself for a little while tonight. But I’m sure he’ll understand.

My eyes flicker toward the guy in the corner, still running on the treadmill. The yoga teacher/massage therapist/sportswear siren reads my thoughts as easily as she reads the tension in my back and nods toward a side door.

“It’s your lucky day,” she smiles. “I’m giving a free massage to the man who can handle it.”

I stand up, grab my towel and run it over my face.

“Always good to have a massage after a workout,” I reply. “Keeps the blood flowing.”

She nods and turns, her body even more erotic in movement. The sway of her ass makes me grit my teeth. My heart thumps like a revved engine, her silhouette magnetizing every muscle in my body. This time I don’t need to push the thoughts away – I couldn’t think straight if I tried.

I follow her toward the massage room, swaggering with the loose power of muscles after a workout. She looks back over her shoulder just before opening the door, her blonde ponytail flicking over her shoulder, and winks before sliding inside.

“Close the do—” she starts, but I pounce like a predator spotting its window of attack, nothing but lust, impulse, and nature controlling me now. In a single motion I slam the door shut with one hand, push her up against it front-first, and press my groin hard against her ass. Her surprised gasp turns into a throaty giggle.

Now that I’ve got her where I want her, I’m as slow as I was quick. I wrap my hands around her waist, brushing my fingers lightly against her exposed midriff. I close my eyes, let the electricity between our skin guide me. I press my face against the side of her head, letting the scent of her drive my body wild, pulling away teasingly after every touch.

“I like your style, Brando,” she says, turning her head to shoot me a sultry stare.

“How do you know my name?” I hum into her ear as I slide my hands slowly up her stomach, under her top and between her heaving breasts.

She puts her palms higher on the door, steadying herself and pressing back into my body.

“You’ve got a reputation.”

I taste the nape of her neck, eliciting a deep moan from her that tugs at my balls harder than a magnet.

“What reputation?”

She laughs lightly, in between the stuttered sighs and gasps that she responds to my every touch with.

“Big…bold…brash…Brando.” As I lift her tight top up over her breasts with one hand, my other snakes down her pants to find the wet line of her *. “Half the girls in my yoga class want to f*ck you…and the other half claim they already have.”

I run my tongue down her neck, tasting the tender, pale skin. Her nipple hardens under the gentle touch of my fingers, pinching lightly, palm tracing the flawless shape of her breast.

“You girls really like to talk,” I say, before taking her earlobe between my teeth.

“I had to see for myself if the rumors are true. This is just research,” she says. I feel a tremble between her thighs as my finger moves slowly over her clit, brushing it until I feel her backing into me with a sharp intake of breath.

“Then I’ll assist any way I can,” I tell her, giving her clit a firm, steady press with my palm as I slide a thick finger deep into her slick *.

“Fuck,” she moans, leaning into it. I work my finger back and forth inside her, agonizingly slow, until she’s panting heavily and writhing against me. “More,” she begs.

I spin her around to face me. She tears her top off the rest of the way, breasts bouncing back into firm shape, and eyes me like I’m a three-course meal and she’s fresh off a hunger strike. Then she pulls my mouth onto hers and swirls her tongue aggressively around mine. It’s more like martial arts than making out, but I’m not complaining. I run my hands down the taut skin of her sides, grab her breasts, feeling every curve so thoroughly I could sculpt her. We back and forth with our tongues, pushing and pulling, lashing and biting. Striking the sparks of the oncoming flames.