Page 52 of Carnival Mayhem

“Actually, that’s a great idea.” She’s already gathering towels from our training supplies. “You’re wound tighter than the rigging ropes.”

“I’m fine,” Colt insists.

“Shirt off, face down on the mat,” I order. “Flora, grab that muscle balm from my bag.”

Colt glares at me, but I hold his gaze steadily. We’ve been partners long enough that he knows when I won’t back down.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, but his fingers move to the hem of his shirt.

Flora spreads a clean towel over the practice mat as Colt reluctantly removes his shirt. There’s some bruising around his shoulder that wasn’t there this morning, mottled purple spreading across his skin.

“Take off the rest of your clothes and lie down,” Flora says softly, patting the mat. “Let us take care of you for once.”

Colt’s resistance crumbles at her gentle tone. He settles onto the mat resignedly, turning his head to the side. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” I reply dryly, kneeling beside him. “Flora, you take his legs and ass. I’ll work on this stubborn shoulder of his.”

I kneel beside Colt, my hands warm from the friction of the training Flora and I did. It’s been a while since I last massaged him, and I feel him tense beneath my touch—not from discomfort but from the awareness of my proximity.

I start with broad strokes along his shoulders, working the muscle balm into his skin. Despite his protests, his body responds to our touch, and I watch the tension melt from his frame. His breath evens out, and I can feel the knots in his shoulders loosen under my thumbs.

Beside me, Flora works with equal focus on his legs, her hands sure and gentle.

Colt shifts, his body twitching unexpectedly as Flora’s hands glide over a particularly sensitive spot. A soft moan escapes him, and I know we’ve entered dangerous territory.

“Roll over,” Flora instructs, her voice throaty. “Let’s work on your front now.”

Reluctantly, Colt does as she bids, his dick hard and glistening with precum. I catch my breath at the sight, remembering the first time I’d seen him like this.

As Flora and I resume our massage, her hands drift lower, lingering on the crease of his hips, and I see his cock twitch in response.

“Fuck, Flora,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You’re killing me here.”

Flora’s hand drifts lower still, and she wraps her fingers around his length, pumping. I watch as she explores, her thumb brushing over the piercing, and his hips buck involuntarily.

“Jesus, that feels good,” he pants, his eyes squeezed shut. “But it’s not—ah, fuck—it’s not gonna help my shoulder any.”

I chuckle, even as my body reacts to seeing them.

Flora’s thumb circles around the piercing, and Colt’s breath catches. “That feels so damn good, baby.”

I lean in, my lips close to his ear, and whisper, “Then why don’t you let us take care of that for you?”

As I speak, I glance at Flora, my eyes dark with suggestion. She meets my gaze, her eyes heated with desire, and I know we’re on the same page.

Colt’s chest heaves as he struggles for breath, his eyes wild. “You sure about this?”

I smile, my lips brushing his ear. “We can take care of this tension for you. Let us finish what we started.”

His lips part, and he nods silently, his eyes fixed on Flora’s hand moving slowly up and down his length.

I lean in, inhaling the scent of him—musk and desire—as my lips brush his earlobe. “So beautiful.”

Colt’s breath catches, his eyes flicking between us as if he can’t decide who to focus on. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his eyes growing darker with each passing second.

“Please,” he whispers.

I smile, my lips curving against his skin, and then I pull back to watch as Flora kneels before him, her hands never stilling their exploration.

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