“Oh, you can absolutely have one every week.”
He shakes his head and swallows, running a hand through his hair. It sticks up sideways, and I reach over and pat it down.
“Don’t need more added to my tab,” he says softly.
“Oh baby, I’d watch you get a massage any day of the week. That was a treat.” He eyes me, and I grin. “It was very erotic.”
His cheeks redden. “It just felt good.”
“Oh god, I could tell,” I moan and adjust myself, my dick getting hard again almost immediately. “It was like watching you get a blow job.”
He clears his throat and tugs his robe a little tighter around him.
“You could keep some things to yourself, you know that, right? You don’t need to say everything that comes into your brain.”
“But I’m an open book.”
I nudge him and then open the door, letting him walk through before me. My hand lands on his lower back and he lets it rest there as I make my way to the counter, making sure to tip our masseuses heftily before walking back outside.
“Thank you,” Matthew says softly, and my heart warms at the appreciation in his tone. “This was all really great.”
“Of course. Like I said, anytime. So what now? What would you like to do? I tried booking us a facial, but they didn’t have any openings. We could go to the mud bath if you want.”
Matthew nods at me slowly and then shakes his head. “I honestly could just go home and nap.”
Done. Without a word, I lead him toward the locker rooms so we can change back into our clothes. “I think a nap sounds delightful.”
As soon as we get home, I use Matthew’s delirium to lead him to the bed and cuddle him under the blankets. He doesn’t even argue, just lays his head on my pillow and lets me wrap my body around his. He feels good against me, warm and strong.
Positively straight.
He hums as he wiggles against me, and I swear to god, my dick is losing its mind, needing more stimulation than this. But I don’t push, I’d never push. I just let my hard length rest gently against his ass, and he doesn’t pull away. He has to know what he does to me at this point, right?
The truth is, the minute I laid eyes on Matthew several weeks ago, I felt something jolt through me.
I wanted him. Intensely.
And it hasn’t faded over time. I still want him.
I’ve never had such a strong desire for a person before. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s not gay that makes me all the more interested, makes it so much more fun. If that makes me a bad person, I don’t know, but I can’t help what I want.
And I want to win this little game I’m playing. I want to win him over.
My hand presses against his stomach, and he sighs as I drag it up and let it rest over his heart. His soft snores tell me that he’s asleep, and as much as I want to keep exploring this athletic body, I won’t. I’m not that much of a creep, to molest someone when they’re not conscious. So, instead, I let my eyes close and I drift off for a bit, my mind conjuring up all the sinful things Matthew and I could do together, making my body heat and thrum with an impossible need.
When we finally wake, we’ve shifted on the bed. He’s holding on to me tightly, his body turned into mine, his breath puffing against my neck. No wonder my brain was dreaming of him over me, rutting into me like an animal in heat. He’s practically caging me in, pressing me deliciously into the mattress.
“Mm, we slept too long,” Matthew murmurs, his lips brushing against my skin. Sleepy boy.
“We did. But you needed it. You’re so overworked.”
“I am,” he says with a whine and then stretches out across me. Oh hell, that feels nice.
My hands slide up his back, under his shirt, feeling the oil-soaked skin from the massage against my fingertips. “Ready to get up and laze about the rest of the day?”
“Fuck. Yes.”
His voice is raspy and worn, like he’s gone all day panting and screaming from multiple orgasms. Or so goes my fantasy.