My own dick ached, trapped in my shorts, leaking so much the fabric clung uncomfortably.

He caught my gaze and smirked. “Like what you are seeing?”

I couldn’t answer. Just nodded.

“Come back here,” he said, his voice low. “Let’s go back to the massage. Chest first. I’ll enjoy the rest later.”

I crawled between his legs, my hands shaking as I poured fresh oil onto my palms. Started at his pecs—broad, firm, warm under my fingers. 

I kneaded in slow circles, thumbs brushing over his nipples. They hardened instantly, dark peaks tightening. 

He hissed softly when I pinched one, rolling it between thumb and forefinger.

“Harder,” he muttered.

I...