His Irresistible Darling - Sarah Randall Page 0,54
brow, her fingers then slowly tracing his eyebrows, tracing around under the sensitive part of his eye sockets and back up his nose. She did it over and over rhythmically until finally dropping her fingers to his ears and massaging his sensitive lobes and around the shell of his ear.
Jumal felt his calf muscles tighten as he fought the urge to squirm but he couldn’t stop his toes from curling at her ministrations, and he thought he might have let out a low moan of pleasure. He bent his knees slightly to hide his feet. When her oiled fingers traced over his lips gently, he fought his primitive instinct to open his mouth and allow his lips to capture those wicked fingers, run his tongue over them—maybe bite teasingly on their pads…
She stopped her massage for a moment and he was just about to complain and beg for her to go on when her hands were once again covering his face with another product, but this one didn’t smell like the oil. It was a thicker, gloopier substance.
He didn’t try to hide his smug smile when once again her magic, oil-covered hands returned to his body and moved across his collarbone, being extra careful around the hairline fracture, and upwards to massage at his shoulders with more of the miracle oil. Her hands moved around to the back of his head and she took hold of his head in one of her hands as she began to run her fingers through his hair and massage his scalp. This was better than sex, Jumal thought for a moment, but then corrected himself. It wouldn’t be better than sex with Pippa—and with that, the naughty side of his brain went off with thoughts of Miss Darling and that magic oil…
“And he finally sleeps,” Pip murmured as she felt the full weight of Jumal’s head in her hands. He gave up the useless fight, surrendered and let his body float away in sleep. His head turned to the side and she slowly manoeuvred her body out from under his and over the end of the sofa, placing another cushion at the side of his head. Pleased that he was going to remain asleep, she bent over to rub at her own legs, which had gone dead about an hour or so ago. She spotted the clock over the mantel. They’d been lying for over two hours, she mused, as her tummy rumbled as a reminder.
As she stretched, she admired the length of his body, allowing her eyes to linger over his exposed thigh. He hadn’t opened his eyes the whole time and she assumed he’d been unaware that his robe had fallen to the side when she shifted his position about halfway through her facial. Her eyes had focused in on his thigh like it was prey, but she’d dragged her eyes away and back to his face for fear that those dark green eyes would suddenly dart open and catch her ogling. She definitely remembered licking her lips at the sight. As her own mind had begun to relax at the repetitive motion of her massage, her thoughts had drifted back to that deliciously naughty wet dream she’d been having about Jumal, her legs tightening slightly around his restful body.
Eventually, once the blood was once again flowing through all parts of her legs, she looked down and admired her sleeping client, pleased with her results and allowing herself a soft giggle at Jumal sleeping with his legs now crossed at the ankles, arms tucked together at his chest, his face covered with her green face mask and his hair messed with her oil.
She grabbed her phone from the table and took a picture. She typed out a message to go out with the picture on her social media… After all, she’d won the bet, right? But as her fingers hovered over the “send” button, she glanced over again at Jumal, lying sound asleep, having trusted her to relax his body—and now, she felt like she was about to betray him with another prank. She had trusted him enough to tell him the very darkest parts of her childhood and he hadn’t judged her but, instead, had told her about his own difficult childhood—something that the Great Jumal would not have done lightly or to just anyone.
Decision made, she let her fingers fly over the keys as she saved her new screen saver: “My very own Shrek.”