𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨?
Newly graduated accountant Cordelia Ashling has come to terms with the fact that her life is destined to be absolutely uneventful. That is until her parents gift her wi...
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I take back everything I said about wanting Elias to do his worst. This is torture. He is barely putting his hands on me, running them over my back as if they are the tips of feathers. I've arched into his palms, but he just as quickly moves them away. This is supposed to be a massage and the best I'm getting is tickle tortured.
I squirm against the table and turn my head, giving him my best side-eye. "Elias," I hiss. "What are you doing?"
"My worst," he says in a flat voice, and I want to knock him upside the head.
My nostrils flare, and I put my face back in the hole and stare at the floor for a moment before turning back toward him, deciding to play dirty. "This is supposed to be a massage and I happen to be sore after my trip to the bottom of the pool last night. Ya know, where I had a rope tied to my leg."
He twists his mouth as if I've made a valid point, which I have. His hands become firmer on my shoulders, kneading my muscles in a way I didn't know I needed until now. My body melts into the cushioned table, and I'm liquifying under his fingertips. That is until he moves under the straps of my sports bra crossing my back. They are purposely pushed down my shoulders, giving me the feeling of being undressed.
"Better?" he asks, a hint of playfulness in his voice.
"Yes and no," I say, matching his flirtatious tone. "The massage feels much better, but now you're sort of taking off my bra, and I'm having flashbacks to last night, which is making things a little..." I clear my throat. "Uncomfortable in certain spots."
His fingers work down my spine and press into the small of my back. "That's a shame. I hate to hear that you are not having the experience you were hoping for." Just like he did with my bra, his fingertips dip below the waist of my pants. An onlooker would think it is an innocent brush of his fingers, but what it is doing to me is anything but.
I swallow and clench my thighs together, my breaths coming quicker as I mirror his earlier action and clench the edge of the table. "Oh, the experience is actually quite good. Especially when you do that," I say, adjusting so my hips roll against the table just to get his reaction.
He listens to every step Lars gives, keeping his hands moving the entire time. Like a good student, he moves to the back of my legs as directed. And holy shit, when he moves up my thighs, his strokes are very intentional. He massages the backs but his pinky brushes against the seam of my leggings over and over again. This is nothing like what I was doing to him. He is coaxing me to an orgasm in front of everyone.
I am soaking through my leggings, and it's embarrassing. I've never been so responsive to someone before in my life. Is this because he's a vampire? What the hell is happening to my body?
"Elias, please," I groan, trying to keep myself under control. "I'm afraid I'm going to..."
Ever the gentleman, he backs off. But his continued touch does nothing to ease the ache between my legs. I'm torn straight down the middle. Touch me more. Touch me less. I want to feel that stoke of passion I felt last night.
