“You’re not relaxing.”

“I…I don’t know how!” I pleaded, about to shed tears.

“You will in a second. Turn over.”

“What?” I was scared to death, convinced my nervousness was going to ruin all of this.

SAMANTHA

“I’m going to give you a massage,” Christos said. He stood up and pulled his boots off, then slid my shoes off my feet before climbing back onto the bed.

“Oh.” I rolled onto my stomach. His weight shifted then I felt warm, powerful hands squeeze the muscles around my neck and shoulder blades through my t-shirt in a pulsating rhythm. “Oh!”

“You like that?” I heard him grinning.

“Yes. It’s…exquisite.”

“Good.”

He continued massaging, pressing, releasing, squeezing, relaxing. It was so soothing. Then his hands slid down my back, sending a jolt through my body. They changed direction at my pelvis and pushed back up toward my neck. He did this repeatedly, like he was forcing the bad energy out the top of my head. I sighed about a hundred times. It felt really, really good.

His hands continued their pattern, but he added another piece. When his palms reach my shoulder blades, they circled out and down my arms. His skin touched mine and I shivered. I felt goose bumps prickling up the backs of my arms. I shivered from head to toe.

After awhile, he changed things up again, and pressed his thumbs deeply into the knots between my shoulder blades.

“Oh, god,” I blurted.

“Right there?” he chuckled.

“How did I get so tense?”

He laughed. “You’re probably like this all the time and never notice.”

“What?”

“This is your normal state. Or at least, it’s what you’ve become accustomed to. I’m trying to work you down to a more relaxed state. One you probably haven’t experienced since you were a little kid.”

I scoffed. “I doubt I was relaxed, even as a kid. You’ve met my parents.”

“You might be right. I guess that means you’re in for a treat. I’m going to knead all these knots out of your body until you’re a heap of floppy flesh.”

“Eww!” I giggled.

“You’re going to love it,” he purred as he slid his hands down and firmly clenched my ass.

I jerked as jolty pleasure sizzled in my hips.

He slid his hands down the sides of my legs, then pressed firmly as he slid his palms up the backs of them. His thumbs dug into the bottom of my butt, pressing up around my tail bone and finally curving across the crests of my pelvis. Lightning bolts coursed out from his fingertips, or my tense muscles, I wasn’t sure which.

“Oh, wow. Keep doing that.”

“You like having an ass massage?”

“Am I a slut if I say yes?”

“Only if you want to be,” he joked.

I giggled. “Can we do this every day?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

There was such finality to the way he said it, I knew I could have this any time I wanted it. Which would be daily. Well, maybe only three times a week. He was doing such a good job, I doubted I’d need it more often than that.

Wow.

Christos continued his firm hand-motions around my ass. Every time he did, he went harder, causing my pelvis to tip forward with each thrust, then tip back as he released. I almost felt like I was being taken from behind, in the conventional sense of the term. Yet I was still fully clothed, and I’m pretty sure my panties were going to be soaked before the massage was over, or in the next two seconds, whichever came first.

Christos shifted his weight around on the bed again as he stood up.

“Where are you going?” I begged. “Are we done?”

“Just getting started. Your feet need some love to.”

“Oh,” I said, relieved.

His weight pressed down on the bed near the bottom and he took one of my feet in his hands and laid it on his thigh. Thumbs slid across the sole of my foot, fingers caressed the sides, pressure, then release, pulsing motions toward my toes, electricity swirling to life then exiting in every direction.

“Uhhhh.” It was all I could manage to say.

After all the muscles in my foot felt creamy and relaxed, he repeated the process on the other side. Then he pressed down on the backs of my calves with considerable weight and rolled his hands toward my ankles several times.

When he was done, he shifted again and sat down on the backs of my legs while he forcefully pressed what I think were his forearms up my lower back, on either side of my spine. It was delicious.

Every time he pressed down and slid upward I moaned, “Oooohhhh,” like he was squeezing the sounds out of my body.

Slowly, I realized that his pelvis was now pressing against the ass of my jeans with every forward thrust. My immediate response was to arch my back, thrusting my butt into him.

“Mmmm, I think you’re starting to get warmed up,” he purred.

“Starting to? I’ve already melted. I’m a puddle of butter. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relaxed.” I pushed back with my hips, trying to somehow bridge the distance between his flesh and mine, but our clothes still blocked passage.

“Do me a favor, agápi mou?”

“Anything, love.”

“For now, keep relaxing. Lie still. I want to squeeze every drop of tension out of you.”

“But, Christos, I want you to feel good too.”

“You have no idea how much I’m enjoying this.”

“Really? But you’re doing all the work.”

“It’s simple The more relaxed you get, the bigger the smile on my face gets.”

“And other things” I asked. “Are they getting bigger too?”

“We’re talking sperm whale back here,” he chuckled.

“Thar she blows, Cap’n Ahab! ’Tis Moby Dork!” I laughed.

“Exactly.”

I eased my hips back down to the bed and he continued to knead the tension out of my back. He paused from his big motions to gently rub my neck with one hand. Oddly, I felt my throat suddenly relax. I didn’t know your throat could relax. “How did you do that?” I asked. My voice came out uncharacteristically breathy. I didn’t know I could sound like that. I had bedroom voice! Oh, wait. Getting excited. Stay relaxed.

“Do what?” he mused.

“Relax my voice?”

“Your neck and throat are one big unit. It’s all connected. Now it’s time to turn over.” He went up on all fours.

I spiraled beneath him and stared into his eyes. In the faint glow of my nightstand lamp, they were a deep ocean blue. Bottomless. Like his devotion. “Hi,” I said huskily. “Do you like my sexy voice?”

He grinned. “The sexiest ever.” He slid his palms down my cheeks, across the sides of my neck, down my chest and across my breasts. Oh, my. Fireworks ignited in them and my nipples popped, straining tightly inside my bra.

“I should take my bra off, don’t you think?”

“Do we dare?” he winked.

I grinned. “Yes.”

He slid his hand expertly under my shirt and up my back. I arched and he unhooked it in a single motion.

I narrowed my eyes and said, “You’re way too good at that.”

“Practice makes perfect, just like my massaging skills.”

“Is that a good thing?” I asked doubtfully.

“Have you ever had a bad massage?”

“I’ve never even had a massage, until now.”

“A bad massage either feels like the masseuse isn’t doing anything, or like they’re cranking down on your muscles with pliers while trying to peel your skin off with sandpaper. I can recreate both, if you want to test it out.”

“No, I’ll opt for the good massage.”

“You sure?” He began tickling my ribs with feather fingers.

“Stop! Good massage! The kind only experience brings!” I giggled.

He smiled and slid his hands down my flat stomach.

“I think I want to take my bra off,” I said nervously. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he said warmly. “Whatever makes you most comfortable, agápi mou.”

I wiggled out of my bra and pulled it through my sleeve before tossing it on the floor.

“Better?” he asked.