Addictive Japanese Massage - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
You are reading Addictive Japanese Massage, Chapter 6: Chapter 6. Read more chapters of Addictive Japanese Massage.
The moment those forbidden words left my lips, something inside me shifted. I shed my usual reserve, murmuring every sweet nothing he longed to hear.
His eyes darkened with hunger, his hands growing impatient.
Had anyone wandered into that parking lot, they'd have caught the faint, rhythmic sway of a black Mercedes.
When it was over, the car fell still again.
I smoothed my rumpled dress in the passenger seat while my husband lit a cigarette, satisfaction curling his lips.
"That massage place worked miracles, didn't it?" He shot me a wolfish grin. "Been years since we went at it like that."
I swatted his arm, my skin still buzzing. "You couldn't even wait till we got home... Thank God nobody walked by."
Otherwise, I'd never have let things go that far.
Somewhere beneath this new boldness, I was still the same blushing wife he'd married.
He chuckled, tapping the tinted windows. "Relax, princess. These are one-way for a reason."
Our first outdoor escapade awakened something reckless in me.
My thighs still trembled as I begged him to drive faster.
"Someone's eager," he teased, making me flush. "Don't pretend you're not already thinking about round two."
I answered with a slow, promising smile.
That night, we rediscovered each other with the urgency of newlyweds, tangled in sheets until dawn.
From then on, we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves.
Bedroom walls witnessed our reinvention—whispered provocations, daring games, his teaching me the art of teasing until we both burned.
One evening, he arrived at my office with a cryptic text: Surprise waiting. Get in.
"Where are we going?" I asked, shrugging off my coat to reveal a dress that hugged every curve.
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Remember how the parking lot drove you wild? Tonight's location makes that look tame."
The "location" turned out to be an abandoned hillside—just wilderness, our car, and the stars.
"Absolutely not," I gasped when he opened my door.
"Nobody for miles," he murmured, fingers tracing my knee. "Just us and the moonlight."
My protest died as heat pooled low in my belly.
Two breathless hours later, we lay tangled in the backseat, his laughter warm against my neck. "Feels like I'm twenty again."
I nipped his jaw. "That massage therapist deserves a raise."
For weeks, we chased that high—until the inevitable itch for novelty returned.
One lazy Sunday morning, we exchanged glances over coffee cups.
No words needed.
We both knew where we were headed next.
His eyes darkened with hunger, his hands growing impatient.
Had anyone wandered into that parking lot, they'd have caught the faint, rhythmic sway of a black Mercedes.
When it was over, the car fell still again.
I smoothed my rumpled dress in the passenger seat while my husband lit a cigarette, satisfaction curling his lips.
"That massage place worked miracles, didn't it?" He shot me a wolfish grin. "Been years since we went at it like that."
I swatted his arm, my skin still buzzing. "You couldn't even wait till we got home... Thank God nobody walked by."
Otherwise, I'd never have let things go that far.
Somewhere beneath this new boldness, I was still the same blushing wife he'd married.
He chuckled, tapping the tinted windows. "Relax, princess. These are one-way for a reason."
Our first outdoor escapade awakened something reckless in me.
My thighs still trembled as I begged him to drive faster.
"Someone's eager," he teased, making me flush. "Don't pretend you're not already thinking about round two."
I answered with a slow, promising smile.
That night, we rediscovered each other with the urgency of newlyweds, tangled in sheets until dawn.
From then on, we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves.
Bedroom walls witnessed our reinvention—whispered provocations, daring games, his teaching me the art of teasing until we both burned.
One evening, he arrived at my office with a cryptic text: Surprise waiting. Get in.
"Where are we going?" I asked, shrugging off my coat to reveal a dress that hugged every curve.
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Remember how the parking lot drove you wild? Tonight's location makes that look tame."
The "location" turned out to be an abandoned hillside—just wilderness, our car, and the stars.
"Absolutely not," I gasped when he opened my door.
"Nobody for miles," he murmured, fingers tracing my knee. "Just us and the moonlight."
My protest died as heat pooled low in my belly.
Two breathless hours later, we lay tangled in the backseat, his laughter warm against my neck. "Feels like I'm twenty again."
I nipped his jaw. "That massage therapist deserves a raise."
For weeks, we chased that high—until the inevitable itch for novelty returned.
One lazy Sunday morning, we exchanged glances over coffee cups.
No words needed.
We both knew where we were headed next.
End of Addictive Japanese Massage Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to Addictive Japanese Massage book page.