Burning up Under His Touch

At first, I couldn't help but be tense. But when I realized that Liam's focus was entirely on the task at hand, I finally began to relax.

He really was a professional.

Smiling, Liam said, "Ms. Ferrell, I don't think I've ever had a client as beautiful as you."

"Really?"

I was lost in the sensation of his strong fingers kneading my muscles. My eyes were half-closed in bliss.

At his words, I gave a shy chuckle.

"I know you're just being polite. I'm 30 now. My husband is always complaining that I'm past my prime."

"No." Liam shook his head firmly.

His hands began to wander, trailing across my skin as he spoke, as if he were touching a masterpiece.

"Your skin is as smooth as silk, just like a young woman in her 20s."

His fingers glided down to my waist, then drifted lower. "Your figure is incredible, too. It's perfectly curved."

Liam brushed the hem of my sheer panties with his fingertips, then grazed the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

"A woman's charm lies in being curvy in all the right places. I've never cared for the ladies who try to be nothing but skin and bones."

Finally, he pulled his hands away at the perfect moment, leaving only the residual warmth of his fingers scattered across my body. The heat was so intense that it made me tremble all over.

"If I had a wife as gorgeous as you, I'd never let her get so lonely that it made her sick."

Whether it was his seductive, honeyed words or his expert touch, I felt a fever rising in my blood. My cheeks flushed, and when I turned my head away, damp strands of hair clung to my cheeks.

I didn't even realize that his words alone were giving me a rush I'd never felt before.

Dazed, I looked up at him, waiting for what came next.

Liam stood and reached for a jar of white cream. As he rubbed it between his palms, he said, "The essential oil was just to get you relaxed. Now, I'll begin the real treatment.

"This is our signature cream, specially formulated for your condition. But for this to work, I'll need to touch some of your sensitive areas. Is that okay with you, Jemma?"

The way he suddenly switched to calling me by my first name left my heart in a flutter.

Since turning 30, I hadn't been treated with this kind of tenderness by anyone.

"Yeah, go ahead," I replied.

Liam blinked in thought at me. "Alright. We'll start with the chest."

After saying that, he reached out his large, cream-covered hands. This time, they cupped both of my breasts fully.

The cream had a faint herbal scent and felt cool against my skin.

The contrast between the heat of his palms and the chill of the cream stimulated the tips of my breasts.

I couldn't help but look down. The white cream was spread across my chest, smeared thin by his large hands as they kneaded and rubbed the soft flesh.

The sight was incredibly lewd.

It looked exactly as if that stuff had been smeared all over my chest.

A soft moan escaped me, followed immediately by a wave of shame.

God, how could I make a sound like that?

I bit my lip hard.

Liam noticed my embarrassment and said gently, "It's okay. If it feels good, let it out. You're here to let go, aren't you?"

My last shred of inhibition crumbled. As he worked, I let out a series of short, suggestive moans.

The fire inside me was roaring now, and that hollow ache was threatening to consume me entirely.

I was losing control.