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Shit. She may not have me by the short and curlies, but I’m still naked, face down on her massage table with her hands on my back. And damn if they don’t feel fucking amazing.
“Ah, what brothers?”
“You know them. Switch. Tav. Judge. Need I go on? In fact, Rider was acting all squirrely the other day.”
“Was he? How weird.” I hiss when she hits a particularly sore spot in my shoulder.
“Oh, is that a little tender?” She feigns concern but I know she’s back there with that determined set to her jaw that she sometimes gets.
“No,” I reply in a voice two octaves higher than usual.
“So, why are your brothers spying on me?”
“They’re not-ah, fuck!”
She presses harder, the knot in my shoulder crunching under her evil fingers. “Are you sure?”
“They’re not spying.”
“Oh?”
“No, they’re, ah, ow! Shit, Willa, argh, they’re just keeping an eye on things.”
Her hands still, but she doesn't remove them. The warmth of them feels good on my skin, and I’m fucking glad I’m on my front, my hard cock pressed against the padded leather of the table beneath me.
“Keeping an eye on what things, Mad Dog?”
The way she spits my name makes my balls draw up. “Just…general things.”
“General things, huh?” She asks, resuming her work.
She skirts away from that gnarly knot in my shoulder, her hands drifting toward the backs of my thighs. She flips the towel covering my ass up just a little, and warm oil hits the back of my thighs. I disguise my groan with a cough and pray to all that is holy that she’s accepted my explanation.
“So, general things like my gutters?”
My eyes close and I try to keep my breathing steady. Fucking Switch. “Who told you that? Switch?”
“Joy. Apparently he’s very interested in them.”
“They’re nice gutters.” Her thumb digs into a soft part in the back of my leg that I never knew existed and my body jolts like she’s just hit it with a live wire. “Motherfucker!”
“Yeah, it is a motherfucker, isn't it? You, you, you big fat liar liar pants on fire!” She says before slapping the back of my thigh, her long fingers breathtakingly close to hitting my balls.
Which, as much as I’d love her to touch my balls I really don’t want them slapped, no matter how attractive I find Willa.
“Fine! Dammit, they’re watching you.”
“Aha! I knew it! I’m not an idiot, you know.” She grits out, “Why the hell are they watching me?”
“They’re more like, watching out for you.”
“Oh, well, that makes it different,” she says dramatically and I don’t think her tone sounds all that over the moon about the situation.
“It is different.”
“Without telling me? Like what the hell, dude?”
I stare down at the floor through the weird table face hole.
