Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” Dyl said, looking around the room with his eyebrows raised. “You win. It feels like I stepped into a five-star spa. Jesus.”
“This is something else I decided to do now that I own my place. I figured I wanted a place to meditate and chill. And also hire a massage therapist to come and give me massages in my own space.” I grinned at him. “And also to treat anyone special in my life to some private sessions.”
He licked his lips. I wasn’t entirely sure since the lighting wasn’t too bright, but I could have sworn a pink flush spread through his cheeks. “Well today it’s your turn to get treated. You might have to walk me through some things, but I think I’ve got a good handle on it.” He made an up-down motion with his hand. “Go ahead and get comfortable. I can turn around.”
I should have asked him to step outside. Just to keep some semblance of professionalism between us. “You don’t have to turn around,” I said instead. The flames engulfed my chest. I pulled off my shirt. Dylan crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. He wore a cocky smile as his eyes drank me in.
I pulled on the waistband of my shorts. Lowered them slowly. Revealing I, once again, wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Dyl made a sound very close to a moan but appeared to stifle it with a cough. I neatly folded my ripped-up clothes and placed them on the small black couch up against the wall. I could feel his gaze pinned on me like a wolf staring down a rabbit.
I went to the table and lay down on my stomach, adjusting my growing dick so that it went back between my legs. I placed my head on the comfortable cushion and rested my arms at my side.
“Ready?” Dylan asked. He walked over to the table. I could see his feet underneath me, his toes sinking into the plush green-and-white rug. His hands floated across my shoulders and head, his thumbs gently kneading into the back of my neck.
I moaned out my answer. Yes. I was ready. I’d been ready for Dylan’s touch since the moment we met. And after the drama earlier today, I was ready to let it all go and give in to my deepest desires.
Chapter Seventeen
Code Fate
DYLAN
Code fate. Code fate.
I had Miles lying down naked on a table, ready to be squeezed and touched and rubbed with my hands. I had no idea on how to give a proper massage but seeing Miles with his perfect ass laid out for me like a personal buffet had all thoughts of proper flying out the window.
He was fucking perfect. He had freckles across his shoulders, a couple of them traveling down his broad and muscular back. He had a little furry trail that started at the small of his back and went down over his ass, dusting him with the perfect amount of dark hair. His legs were spread and his cock—already hard, fucking hell—pushed between them.
I had no idea where to start. Guess the neck and shoulders would be as good a place as any. I moved to the edge of the table, aware that if I got any closer then my bulge would be pressed up against his head. I didn’t think he would complain about that, but I wanted to get at least a little bit of the massage done before I started following the feral instincts that howled inside me.
He had kept his jewelry on. A gold hoop at the top of his ear matched a small gold ring at the bottom. His bracelet shone against his tan skin. This close, I could see that it had a subtle texture giving the metallic band a swirling effect, almost like it was made of gold mixed with smooth marble. I rubbed his biceps first and moved up to his shoulders. “How’s this pressure?” I asked, trying to cosplay a professional massage therapist as best as I could.
“You can go a little harder.”
“Oh yeah?” I massaged his shoulders with a firm grip, digging my fingers in, rubbing my thumbs up the side of his neck. My eyes went to his cock which pulsed against the table. I could see a dark stain spreading out on the white sheets from how much he was already leaking.
It matched the growing wet sensation I could feel dripping down my thigh.
“And the oil’s over there.” He moved his hand and pointed at the small cabinet. I opened the drawer, pulling out the clear bottle of massage oil. The sound of the cap clicking open seemed to echo throughout the charged room. Miles told his smart speakers to play some relaxing music, which helped me feel more comfortable. I was convinced he could hear my heart racing.