Jan Week 3: Spa Day with Samantha...Leah rides the massage therapist...

Leah slid over the slicked vinyl surface of the massage table and patted the open space beside her, eyebrows raised in a challenge. “Why don’t you lay back and let me take care of you for a change?” she said, her voice coming out honeyed and low, a practiced purr that was new even to her. Ethan hesitated, caught between decorum and animal stupidity, then, with a nervous laugh and a glance at the closed door, he kicked off his shoes and hoisted himself onto the table.

It creaked beneath their shared weight, the sound oddly intimate, like the groan of a cheap motel bed. Leah crawled over him, her body still shivering with aftershocks, and straddled his hips. She made a magnificent mess—oiled, disheveled, flushed with pleasure and reckless intent. Ethan’s cock, still glossy from her mouth, stood at attention against his stomach. He put his hands up in mock surrender but the trembling in his arms gave away his anticipation.

Leah gripped the base of his cock and guided it to her entrance, pausing just long enough to savor the way the head parted her lips and notched at her soaked opening. She watched his face the whole time, wanted to see if he’d look away, if he’d hesitate; but he held her gaze, eyes glassy with lust, jaw clenched, lips parted as if he were about to gasp. With a slow, deliberate push, she sank down onto him, inch by inch, relishing the stretch and the way it felt like conquering something forbidden.

The table shook as she set a rhythm, up and down, up and down, her hands planted on his chest for leverage. He was thick and long and curved just so, hitting every spot with delicious precision. It was raw and mechanical and so different from the last time she’d done this—no kissing, no foreplay, no pretense of affection. Just the desperate, ugly need to get off and get off big. She let herself be loud, moaning and swearing under her breath, riding him with the single-minded fury of someone who’d waited years for an excuse to behave this badly.

Ethan tried to hold steady, gritting his teeth and focusing on her like he could memorize every inch, but after a few minutes he lost it, hands migrating to her hips to meet her thrust for thrust. He gripped her so hard she could feel his fingerprints digging into her skin, guiding her faster and faster, until the slap of skin on skin and the slick squelch of their bodies filled the spa with a lewd, discordant percussion.