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Reluctantly, I pull away from the soft look in his large brown eyes to go fetch a damp cloth. I wipe him off gently and keep my eyes on my task, to avoid looking too long at all his masculine, monstrous beauty. It’s strange how much his looks affect me. I’m not normally the sort of person who cares very much if a guy is good looking. I mean, it’s nice. I used to think James was gorgeous, but after a while, maybe those early hormones wore off, or I saw the ugliness underneath. Since then, I don’t normally notice guys. Not like that.
I notice Jarradek, though.
I notice the way his taut belly jumps as I wipe him, careful not to smudge the words I’d like to keep there. I notice the way his tail flicks against his side when I wipe the cloth higher, across muscled pecs.
When I’ve finally run out of excuses to keep using the cloth, I’m still not done touching him. I set the cloth aside with a thundering heart and trail my bare fingertips over his skin. He feels hot and smooth. Almost as good as the feel of his hard cock in my hand before.
At the sound of his sigh, I look up to see him watching me. This time I can’t look away.
“You are so beautiful when you come,” he tells me huskily.
A little flutter low in my belly dares me to deny his words mean something. “Thank you.”
“So beautiful. Thank you for giving that to me.”
Inside me, butterflies are having a party in my stomach, but I do my best to keep my expression calm. “If you’re very good, I’ll let you do it again next time.” My wet, tingling pussy would like me to climb back onto him and insist he do it again right now, but that’s not how this works, is it?
I don’t know. I don’t really know what I’m doing. The rogue desire only makes that clearer.
Shaking off the feeling, I gesture to Jarradek. “Roll onto your tummy. Let me rub your back.” After all, he’s the paying client. That feels right.
When Jarradek does as I request, I climb over him and rub my hands up and over his broad shoulders. His groan of pleasure suggests this is just what he needs; I have to admit this is not much of a chore for me either.
We’re quiet for a while. I concentrate on teasing out the knots around his neck and in his upper back, kneading with my knuckles and working in small circles until his back feels looser. I’m hyper-conscious of the heat of his body between my thighs.
After a while he asks, “May I ask you if you have other clients? Is that why you’re hard to book? I’d see you every day, if I could.”
Unsure how much to say, I pause. “No. No other clients right now.” I don’t want to admit I’ve never had any other clients except him. Despite the fact he seems well pleased, I need his business too much right now.
He falls silent again and I knead into his lower back, shifting so I’m sitting on his taut ass.
“Then, can I see you more often? Please. I need more of this.” His voice carries so much sincerity. The moment is so tender.
I feel bad. I’d honestly like to take the extra bookings, but I’d need to arrange proper childcare. Before I know it—before I mean to—the truth slips out. “I can’t.”
His tail flicks against my leg. “Why not?”
“Because I’m also a mom.”
I still, waiting for the negative reaction. Guys like this don’t want to know the reality. Why did I even say it? I should have kept up the facade of mysterious and alluring mistress.
Then Jarradek surprises me. “How old?”
“Huh?”
“How old are your children? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Tentatively, I resume massaging. “Three and seven.”
A low rumble comes from deep in his chest. “I bet they’re gorgeous. And I bet you’re a great mom.”
I shake my head. There’s no reason why his simple words of praise should make my throat go tight and tears spring to my eyes. Only, I don’t think anyone has ever told me that before. I never realized how much I wanted to be told.
I brush back a strand of hair from my face, flustered. “I’m not sure that’s true.”
I continue with the massage.
He captures my hand when I rub up and over his shoulder. His large, warm hand feels firm, but not forceful. “I’m sure it is true.”
