Enemies to 🔥Rom com
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Charles Winston Mayer-Chaz-is your typical trust fund, never gonna grow up playboy. His carefree bachelor existence is filled with women, money, and limited responsibilities in NYC is interrupted by the untimely de...
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"Oh my God," I mumble. My face pressed down, body giving in to the deep and punishing rolls of force. Relentless groping, repeated patterns, I gasp out whimpers and groans, hardly able to contain myself.
Every single part of me feels like it's about to come unhinged. I'm like a bowl of jello, welcoming the pain mixed with pleasure. Every. Single. Hard. Stroke.
"Fuck!" Chaz moans—of course he does—it's just as good for him as it is for me.
The long waves of deep pressure, not slowing down. Maintaining the same rhythm. Pulsing harder—over and over. The constant force teetering the line between torture and straight-up euphoria.
A massage is really one of the best things ever!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Mother of God," Chaz mumbles, his face still smashed into the massage table. The two masseuses left, telling us to take our time.
A tiled, open shower stands in the room's corner for those who need to rinse off before heading back to work or wherever.
Which is exactly what we need to do.
My hands lay folded beneath my cheek, head turned, shamelessly admiring his sculpted back muscles coated in oil. Watching steady breaths lift his relaxed shoulders. Chaz's body truly is a masterpiece.
"You've seriously never had one?" I ask. The back of his head shakes.
"Not a real one like this. I've had some that were maybe not so... professional."
"Ew." I scrunch my nose, but also fight the urge to laugh. He's honest—I have to give him that much.
A long stream of chuckles escapes his throat, head lifting and turning towards me, folding his hands under the side of his face, mirroring my position.
"I don't mean like that. Just at a strip club, or from a random person. I've never had an actual professional—someone that went to school for it. Fuck!" he exclaims, green eyes widening. "I've never had a man touch me like that. I think I'm in love."
Getting an appointment at a place like this one—that's upscale and not seedy—last minute was impossible enough. Luckily, they squeezed us in, but only had one female and one male available. We walked in and the woman assigned to us made some sort of eyes at Chaz.
It's annoying, but I might as well get used to it.
Once we were in the room, he told them to switch, didn't offer a reason or excuse, just said nope when she stood next to his table.
Or maybe it was when the guy stood over me?
"You want me to get him back in here?" I ask with a playful smirk, still not able to peel my body from the crisp white sheet beneath me. "Maybe he could—"
