Page 169 of Bad for Me

IAN

Eventually,I persuade my grouchy patient to lug his delicious ass upstairs by promising him a blow job. Really, he's about to get something much, much better. But like everything else we've been through, I have to work him up to it.

"What is all this?" Henry asks as we enter his room. I've stripped the bed and covered it with a mattress protector and several oversized bath towels, so the massage oil doesn’t ruin anything. I drew the blinds and lit some candles to create a relaxing atmosphere.

"If you're going to get a massage, you might as well do it right," I say, pulling my shirt over my head.

He watches me with obvious lust, which is a huge step forward from only a few days ago. I've finally gotten him to admit he wants me, to tell me what he wants from me. Granted, most of that openness has come out as dirty talk. Not that I’m complaining. I rather like his dirty mouth.

"Get on your knees and swallow my cock."

"I want you to eat me out until I'm dizzy."

"Baby, I'm starving for your sweet cum."

Yeah, that's right, he called mebaby. Once. By accident.

Still counts.

But between all the blowjobs and soapy shower handjobs and orgasms, there have also been moments of tender sweetness. Like texting me the moment he notices Mike's light shut off, so I can sneak into his room and watch old action movies after we suck each other off. Or slipping into the bathroom when I'm brushing my teeth just because he wants to kiss me. Hell, we almost got caught yesterday when he snuck into the bathroom while I was in the shower. He told me he ‘just wanted to get a good look.’ And then he ended up getting a lot more than a look when he had to jump into the shower behind me, fully clothed, because Mike came in to fix his hair before a date with Chloe. I had to tell Mike he'd caught me jerking off, so he'd stop asking why I was acting so weird. Little did he know his dad had decided to sample my ass since he was eye level with it.

Not that he's ready to acknowledge us as a relationship of any sort. That would only happen in my dreams. But when he looks at me the way he is right now, I'd pretend to be anything he wanted just to stay exactly like this. To stay his.

I heard the conversation between him and Mike downstairs. I want to be the one that lights him up.

Closing the distance between us, I take his mouth in a kiss that I feel in my toes. Our tongues dance perfectly together, stoking a fire inside me. Henry lets me strip him, one piece of clothing at a time, and I touch, kiss, or caress every inch of his body along the way. Meanwhile, he unties the drawstring of my athletic pants with deft fingers, dipping in to palm my hard cock. I'm always hard for him. But he's always hard for me, too. So it works out.

My pants drop to the ground, and I step out of them.

"It wasn't my intention to be naked for this," I tell him.

"Well then, you should consider wearing underwear."

"I wore a shirt for you. I think that's enough."

He chuckles, and I push him toward the bed. "Lay down on your stomach, right over the towels."

He looks down at his massive erection. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Don't worry, Daddy. I promise I'll take care of that for you."

His eyebrow twitches, but he doesn't bother telling me not to call him Daddy. We both know he likes it.

Henry climbs up on the bed, and I have to resist the urge to bite him on the ass. My eyes travel appreciatively over his body. I desperately want to mark him everywhere, most notably his soft love handles. I want to mark those by digging my fingers into them while I hold on for dear life and sink myself balls deep inside his ass. A shiver runs through my body.Damn.

Giving me one last grouchy look over his shoulder, Henry adjusts himself to lay down on the bed. I gently trail my fingers from his foot to his neck as I walk along the side of the bed closest to where he's lying. I have a bottle of massage oil resting in a bowl of warm water that I take out and dry off, holding it near his face for him to see and smell.

"CBD oil? Why am I not surprised?"

I laugh, figuring that's the reaction I'd get out of him.

"At least it doesn't smell like weed. Smells like citrus?"

"Tangerine," I confirm. "Completely all natural."

I rattle off the ingredients and dosage, mostly just to keep his mind busy while I pour some of the oil on my hands and start to massage the back of his injured thigh. It's still pretty sore, although he tries to pretend it isn't and tough it out, so I start slow and gentle, gradually working up to a deeper massage.

I smile when he groans. "See? Once we get past the initial soreness, it feels good, right?" The massage, although truly meant to help his leg heal, quickly turns sensual. My fingers dig into the muscles of his thighs, running up and down, squeezing and kneading.

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