Page 29 of Tamed By You

I peek a look over the top of the magazine to see Harry looking at Gabby deadpan.

“Gabriella, I can assure you nothing about what I just went through was relaxing nor good for me.” He rubs a frustrated hand over his face, and I go back behind my magazine.

“Didn’t you read the treatment details when you signed the consent form?” Brad chimes in.

“Well, clearly not, Bradley,” he bites back.

“Who doesn’t read a form properly before signing it?” Jack says.

“Me apparently.” Harry hollers pointing to himself.

“Anyway, so back to my story, So, after that torture, and the glasses are removed, he starts massaging me, but he gets on me, on the bed with these large sticks and starts rolling them over me and then kneading me with his big callous hands like I’m fucking bread dough.”

I can’t help it. A little laugh escapes me, and I place the magazine fully over my face and sink into my seat.

“When he suggested I roll over so he could do the front, I was outta there.”

I move the magazine to look at him. His face is full of tension and he’s shuddering.

“Is your back okay?” Ria asks, rolling her lips like she’s trying not to laugh. Harry stands and removes his robe, and everyone gasps in unison.

“What-what, what's wrong?” He twists to try and look at his back but can’t.

“Let me take a photo,” Brad says, trying to keep it together. He pulls his phone from his robe pocket, takes a picture and shows Harry.

“What the fuck?” he manages to stutter. “I look like a walking Twister mat.”

“Well, that’ll teach you for not reading the form properly,” Brad chokes out barely keeping it together.

And that is it. I can't contain it anymore. A laugh escapes my lips and I clamp a hand over my mouth.

Harry looks over at me, eyes blazing with anger. “I’m glad you find it funny. You weren't just beaten half to death by Alan.”

He walks towards me, and I rise to my feet. “You did this to me.” His tone is accusatory.

“I believe I was in my own treatment room having a lovely scalp massage. Couldn't possibly have been me.” I smile so widely that I bare all my teeth.

“I need to speak to a manager."

“Oh, calm down, Karen. Don't be so dramatic.” I stand up throwing down my magazine. “It’s a few marks. You'll live. Besides, it’s your fault you didn’t read the damn form. Consider this karma for thinking with your dick and not your head.”

“Don't be dramatic,” he yells, loud enough for other guests to start noticing. “Look at me.” He turns showing me his back, which is covered in what can only be described as twelve giant hickeys.

“Yeah, it’s not great, is it? But at least it’s not as bad as diarrhea,” I say.

Our narrowing eyes lock, and I give him a challenging stare.

“This is your fault,” he spits. “You told me to get it done when you were oiling yourself up.” He moves his hands over his body mimicking my actions from earlier. “Oh, Harry get the cupping done and release all that built up tension.” His tone is mocking. I fold my arms across my chest in annoyance.

“It’s not my fault you were too busy gawking at me instead of listening.”

“Any red-blooded male would have been staring at you, Ali. The way you were rubbing yourself…”

“What, where were you rubbing yourself?” Gabby asks.

“Nowhere. I was putting sunblock on and Pervy Perversion over here couldn’t stop staring and I may have suggested a treatment or two that he could go for. Not my fault he’s an idiot and didn’t read the form.”

“You B—” Before he can finish his words, I speak over him.

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