The Other Side of Greed (The Seven Sins #5) - Lily Zante Page 0,95
storeroom days.
“We could be caught,” he husks, his breath catching the harder I stroke him. He thumbs my nipple through the flimsy bikini top fabric. Heat pools between my legs. This feels dirty, and sticky, and forbidden, standing in a tub full of grape juice, doing this.
“I don’t care,” I moan in between our kisses.
“You don’t?” he asks, lifting his head. His hot breath tickles my face. The grape juice seems to have seeped through my skin, intoxicating me.
“You could do anything to me now, Brad, and I wouldn’t care.”
He unties my halter-neck top bikini and pulls it down. My breasts perk up. They’re sticky and wet, like our entire bodies, neck downwards. We’re covered in juice, but Brad lowers his mouth and sucks hungrily at my breasts. An electric charge skitters across my skin, making my back arch as I rake my fingers through his hair. He sucks each breast in turn, greedily, thirstily, as if he has been wanting to do this forever. I could come just from this.
And then I start to worry. Reality and common sense prevails.
“She’s going to come back,” I murmur, lifting my leg and hooking it around his waist. Even as I say the words, my body reacts as if it doesn’t care about the therapist. I mewl, shuddering in ecstasy as his fingers slide into my bikini bottoms, then slide inside me. I rock against him, wanting more than just his fingers.
This is messy and unhygienic. These thoughts crop up in my mind, but Brad’s fingers and tongue soon push those away.
I fall back, panting and sighing as I float down from my high.
He watches me as I try to put myself together.
“Where is she?” I say finally.
He pulls up my bikini top, then turns me around to tie it at the back. His erection pokes in between my butt cheeks and I reach back in order to grasp him, but he moves away.
“We have more treatments to get through yet.” He picks up the buzzer and presses it. A few moments later, the therapist returns and asks us how we are doing.
I’m too ashamed to look her in the eye, but Brad replies and tells her that we’ve been doing just fine.
My mind is frazzled, and my body feels as if it doesn’t belong to me. The scent of orange blossoms permeates through the air. Now, lying on a table on my stomach, I moan in quiet ecstasy as another therapist massages my body from top to bottom.
I’m having an out-of-body experience. It’s as if I’m floating above the table and looking down. Brad is on a table next to me and another therapist works on him. I am not only in post-sex haze, but also soft and relaxed from the bath, and now my senses are further loosened with this massage.
Every knot of tension, every crease of worry, is being slowly and gently ironed out of me. I feel myself become lighter, as if I have nothing to fear, nothing to worry about.
Later, we end up in what’s called a relaxation room, where we loll about on a heated marble stone surface, sipping mint tea.
I feel rejuvenated. Born again. Refreshed and recharged and made new. I catch Brad watching me, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He made me come in a tub filled with crushed grapes. That’s something I never thought I’d end up saying, or doing.
I smile at him, because talking seems like too much effort, because my muscles, all of them, my vocal chords, too, are having an afternoon siesta. It’s a miracle that I can sit upright and hold up this glass of mint tea.
“You’re glowing,” he comments, as we sit there wearing fluffy white terrycloth robes.
“I’m floating on another planet.”
The smile he gives me melts my insides like butter. “That’s what I wanted for you. Time to relax.”
“You need it, too.” I lean back against the wall.
“Not as much as you. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you hefting those food boxes and cartons when I first joined.”
The memory makes me chuckle. “I called you because Fredrich had injured himself, and I wanted to test you.”
“Test me?”
“I called you on the spot. Asked you to come and help me. I didn’t tell you what the job entailed.”
At first, he frowns, then realization dawns and his face lightens. “I was ... I was at dinner with a friend.”
“At dinner?” That is funny. “You should have said. I wouldn’t have expected you to come then.”