Experimentally, I put some in my palm, then tried to reach around to my back—only to have her snatch the bottle with a huff.
“Not like that. You need even coverage for true relief.”
Before I could think about coverage—or the semi I’d sprung the moment she laid her cool, callused hands on me—she was smoothing the slick substance into my flesh.
I moaned. Shamelessly. Not just from the aloe vera, although it felt like heaven on my skin.
She snorted as I moved my hair out of her way. “That sounded almost orgasmic.”
“Oh, love, you have no idea. Sorry. Zoe. No…can’t call you that, either. What can I call you then? Shall I give you a nickname while you bring me untold pleasure?”
It wasn’t an exaggeration. The hint of ridges on her thumbs and fingers along with the innate strength in her hands as she kneaded the gel into my knotted muscles was the most erotic experience I’d had since…
Hell, since I didn’t know when. The trouble twins the night of the talent show semi-finals didn’t count, since I still didn’t remember much of that.
I had to quit drinking.
“You could try just staying quiet.”
“Nah. How about Wonder Woman? Who possesses glorious skill in her hands.”
“Rather long, isn’t it?”
“Hmm, good point. Oh, yes, right there. That spot is particularly tight.”
“You do realize this was to help your sunburn, not intended to be a massage?”
“Tell your magical touch that. Those calluses on your fingers are divine.” She drew her hands back abruptly, though I was too consumed with my thoughts—and the insistent throb in my groin—to notice right away. “Magic,” I mused. “Magic Manning. Capable of bringing the dead back to life. In this case, dead skin cells. Which isn’t terribly arousing. Sorry about that.”
“My hands are callused from my work.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“If you don’t like it…” She put the cap back on and I turned, grabbing her hand and the bottle. When she shrank back, I transferred my touch solely to the plastic, gripping the bottle until it buckled.
“If I don’t like it? Which part of what I said did you interpret that way?”
She shut her eyes. “Sorry. I’m in a weird headspace right now. Anyway, hope that helped a little. You can, ah, take the bottle—”
“I don’t want to scare you.”
“Who said you are?”
“Look at my trousers,” I said quietly, waiting until her eyes flickered open. She let out a soft sound that I couldn’t identify as pleasure…or distress. “Does that seem like I didn’t like any part of what you were just doing to me?”
“Look, I think you’re getting the wrong idea. Maybe it’s better if you just go.” She stood up and rubbed the excess aloe on the side of her neck.
I wanted to bury my nose there. Drag it up the line of her throat until I could lick her pulse and feel it go wild under my lips and teeth.
My cock twitched.
And it so wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. I’d just have to live with that.
“I’m not getting any ideas.”
“Seems as if you are, judging by that.”
“No, more like your hands were a symphony on my back. It hurts, and not just because of the burn. But it wasn’t just your hands affecting me.