muscles in his back.
“Not magic,” she said almost defensively. “Training. For instance, I know if I push right here…”
She pressed on a spot above his tailbone and he groaned. “See, I know that most folks ache there and don’t even realize it. Just common principles of nature. There’s nothin’ like a good massage to make you remember how you’re s’pose ta feel.” Her slow, drawled answer was delivered with rough pummeling that made him grunt in delight.
From that point on she accompanied her ministrations with a running list of muscles and tissue as she stroked, pulled and kneaded. He was in heaven and his jaguar threatened to purr out loud.
When she said, “Flip over now and I’ll get your chest and shoulders,” he didn’t even think before he rolled onto his back. His cock stood a mile high, tenting the front of the borrowed sweats and destroying his carefully planned offer of a platonic dinner and night out.
She glanced down at it , the flag under which Big John fiercely waved, and didn’t miss a beat. “That’s controlled by the corpora cavernosal smooth muscle ,” she said. “When it doesn’t work, it’s known as erectile dysfunction .” Her tone was dry when she added, “Apparently you’re healthy.”
She didn’t flirt. She just kept a running monologue going, resuming her soft drawl. “You can tell a lot of things about a person when you do this kind of work.”
He closed his eyes and groaned when she ran her hands down his right shoulder and gradually moved lower, kneading his biceps. Her strong fingers seemed to mold the flesh in a new way, making the muscles underneath tingle and almost burn.
“For instance,” she said, massaging his wrist before taking up his hand. “The hand is a mighty interesting part of the body.”
For an instant his beast snarled inside, alert and tense when she rotated Thomas’ thumb. But then he relaxed. No harm. All’s well.
She put her fingers between his, locking their grips together, her fingertips continuing to work her magic on the back of his hand. “You do much fly fishing?”
He snorted and murmured drowsily, “Never before this trip. Seems like a waste of time. It would be more fun to jump in and catch them.” His cat purred, picturing the stream of crisp cool water where the trout shimmered below the surface.
He could almost smell the scent of the mountain stream as she worked on his hand, holding it between her own. Damn, it felt good.
Her voice was husky as she asked him questions and told him stories, putting him half asleep, all the time her hands gripping and pulling and surrounding his own. The door clicked open once and the partner peeked around the door.
Miz said, “We’re fine,” signifying, Thomas assumed, that she felt safe to stay alone with him. He knew he was right when he heard the outer door close and the lock click shut.
“How’d you know about this place?” She slid her hand into his for a moment, letting heat pulse through his arm. It was pretty fucking amazing. He’d never felt so relaxed.
“I saw you take care of those knot heads at the stop-and-go last night. Too bad about the groceries.” He smiled drowsily at her. “You’re Missouri Hess. Got your name from the store clerk.”
“Is that right? I’ll have to thank her.” She began pressing on different points in his palm. Inside, his cat rumbled appreciation.
“Missouri’s an odd name,” Thomas mumbled. “Not that I don’t like it,” he added hastily.
“It’s a family name, passes from one generation of women to the next. I won it this time. Folks call me Miz.”
She dropped his right hand and went to his left side, working her way down to the left hand. When she picked it up, she nodded at his cock, clothed in gray fabric, a rigid testimony to his arousal.
“Something else a man’s hand is supposed to show. It’s said to be a good measure of the size of his other organs. You’ve got mighty big hands.” She slipped her
“Not magic,” she said almost defensively. “Training. For instance, I know if I push right here…”
She pressed on a spot above his tailbone and he groaned. “See, I know that most folks ache there and don’t even realize it. Just common principles of nature. There’s nothin’ like a good massage to make you remember how you’re s’pose ta feel.” Her slow, drawled answer was delivered with rough pummeling that made him grunt in delight.
From that point on she accompanied her ministrations with a running list of muscles and tissue as she stroked, pulled and kneaded. He was in heaven and his jaguar threatened to purr out loud.
When she said, “Flip over now and I’ll get your chest and shoulders,” he didn’t even think before he rolled onto his back. His cock stood a mile high, tenting the front of the borrowed sweats and destroying his carefully planned offer of a platonic dinner and night out.
She glanced down at it , the flag under which Big John fiercely waved, and didn’t miss a beat. “That’s controlled by the corpora cavernosal smooth muscle ,” she said. “When it doesn’t work, it’s known as erectile dysfunction .” Her tone was dry when she added, “Apparently you’re healthy.”
She didn’t flirt. She just kept a running monologue going, resuming her soft drawl. “You can tell a lot of things about a person when you do this kind of work.”
He closed his eyes and groaned when she ran her hands down his right shoulder and gradually moved lower, kneading his biceps. Her strong fingers seemed to mold the flesh in a new way, making the muscles underneath tingle and almost burn.
“For instance,” she said, massaging his wrist before taking up his hand. “The hand is a mighty interesting part of the body.”
For an instant his beast snarled inside, alert and tense when she rotated Thomas’ thumb. But then he relaxed. No harm. All’s well.
She put her fingers between his, locking their grips together, her fingertips continuing to work her magic on the back of his hand. “You do much fly fishing?”
He snorted and murmured drowsily, “Never before this trip. Seems like a waste of time. It would be more fun to jump in and catch them.” His cat purred, picturing the stream of crisp cool water where the trout shimmered below the surface.
He could almost smell the scent of the mountain stream as she worked on his hand, holding it between her own. Damn, it felt good.
Her voice was husky as she asked him questions and told him stories, putting him half asleep, all the time her hands gripping and pulling and surrounding his own. The door clicked open once and the partner peeked around the door.
Miz said, “We’re fine,” signifying, Thomas assumed, that she felt safe to stay alone with him. He knew he was right when he heard the outer door close and the lock click shut.
“How’d you know about this place?” She slid her hand into his for a moment, letting heat pulse through his arm. It was pretty fucking amazing. He’d never felt so relaxed.
“I saw you take care of those knot heads at the stop-and-go last night. Too bad about the groceries.” He smiled drowsily at her. “You’re Missouri Hess. Got your name from the store clerk.”
“Is that right? I’ll have to thank her.” She began pressing on different points in his palm. Inside, his cat rumbled appreciation.
“Missouri’s an odd name,” Thomas mumbled. “Not that I don’t like it,” he added hastily.
“It’s a family name, passes from one generation of women to the next. I won it this time. Folks call me Miz.”
She dropped his right hand and went to his left side, working her way down to the left hand. When she picked it up, she nodded at his cock, clothed in gray fabric, a rigid testimony to his arousal.
“Something else a man’s hand is supposed to show. It’s said to be a good measure of the size of his other organs. You’ve got mighty big hands.” She slipped her