“Does she need to go to the hospital?” I asked, a lingering trace of worry in my voice, though my body was already betraying me, hyper-focused on the man standing in the room.
“It’s not that serious,” he murmured, a low, easy chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Fortunately, my reflexes are still razor-sharp.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Not surprised—you really are something,” I teased. His smirk deepened, and I heard the heavy shift of his boots as he stepped closer, stopping right behind me.
I shifted slightly under the thin towel, turning my body to face him and peeling my eyes open to meet his gaze. “Well…” I murmured, deliberately casting the bait. “Why send the therapist out to deal with it when you could handle it yourself?” I desperately needed to know if he had cleared the room on purpose—just to get his hands on me.
“Because your mother needs a professional to wrap that swelling,” he replied, his voice dropping to a dark, intimate whisper. “Besides… we both know whose hands you really wanted on you today. And I’m right here.”
A furious, traitorous blush burned up my neck, flooding my cheeks with heat.
"Do you have any massage oil?" he asked.
"Check my luggage. I have a bottle of baby oil," I said. He walked over, dug it out of my bag, and returned to the table.
"Where should I start?" he asked.
"Right where you left off," I replied boldly. I wanted his hands back on my thighs.
I heard the pop of the cap and the slick sound of the oil pouring into his palms. He rubbed them together to warm the liquid, and then I felt his large hands settling onto my thighs. I nearly moaned at the initial contact. It was exactly what my body had been craving.
His palms moved in slow, deliberate circles, dragging the oil over my skin and creating a delicious friction that sent sparks straight down to my core.
The higher he went, the more intense the sensation became. Every time his thumbs pressed deeply into the meat of my thighs, a jolt of electricity shot through me. My breathing started to hitch, my chest heaving against the table. I could feel that familiar, heavy ache building rapidly between my legs.
"I think I should stop here," he murmured suddenly, and my heart skipped a frantic beat. A cold dread washed over me at the thought of his hands pulling away. I didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to go higher. I wanted to feel his fingers tracing my inner thighs.
"No, you can't stop yet. My inner thighs still hurt," I breathed in a low, suggestive whisper, slowly inching the towel up until it barely covered my ass. I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew he could see the edge of my underwear. But instead of feeling shy, the exposure only made me more aroused. I hadn't forgotten our relationship or the boundaries we weren't supposed to cross, but I couldn't subdue the wicked thrill of crossing them anyway.
I nearly cried out when I felt his hands finally glide upward, his knuckles grazing the side of my pussy. It felt amazing—like I had been transported to another world. The sensation sent a heavy rush of blood to my crotch, causing my pussy to clench and drip.
The longer he massaged me, the more I soaked my panties. The fabric felt heavy now, completely saturated with my wetness. Sensing him hesitate as he reached the juncture of my thighs, I parted my legs a fraction wider, giving him a silent invitation to slide his hands further up.
At this point, he could clearly see the shape and swollen lines of my pussy through the fabric. He could see exactly how wet he had made me.
A soft gasp escaped my lips. "Ohhh... yes," I breathed as his hand slid right behind my pussy. He didn't say a word. He didn't stop. He applied firm pressure, massaging the sensitive flesh while his knuckles dragged rhythmically against my covered pussy with every upward stroke.
The ache in my core was becoming unbearable. As forbidden as it was, I found myself desperately wishing he would finally cross the line and rub me properly. If he could just summon the courage to reach under the pink lace, pull my panties aside, and massage my hungry, bare pussy, I knew I wouldn't stop him.
A louder, completely uninhibited moan tore from my throat. "Ohhh! Fuck! Right there... Daddy!" His finger had just brushed against the ultra-sensitive flesh that my panties didn't quite cover. He didn't need the baby oil there; my own slickness was more than enough. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. He was intentionally teasing my pussy.
I was completely lost in the haze of pleasure when the bedroom door suddenly clicked open. My heart dropped into my stomach.
It was my mom.
It happened so fast that I didn't even have a second to pull the towel down.
"What is going on?" she demanded, her wide eyes darting between us as she stepped fully into the room. It was obvious she had heard my loud moans. "What are you doing to her?”