Ought to I simply stroll in?

I chew my lip and push the door open. It swings again, the sound of it banging towards the wall alerting Porter to my presence.

He is standing behind his desk, his white t-shirt tight throughout his broad shoulders, his muscle mass flexing as he kinds via a stack of papers. His salt and pepper hair is tousled and unfastened, and he has the sexiest 5 o’clock shadow.

“Bailey,” Porter says, wanting up at me. “Hey, child. Come on in.”

His voice is so deep and gravelly, and the best way he known as me child makes my knees weak. He is wanting me up and down, and his gaze is stuffed with need. Nervous, I look away and take within the workplace throughout me, desirous to know extra in regards to the persona of this mysterious man.

The workplace is masculine and darkish, with blackout curtains and a brown leather-based sofa. There are boxing posters overlaying the partitions and a framed image of Porter with some type of trophy is located on his desk.

However all of that is not what catches my consideration essentially the most. It is the therapeutic massage desk, full with an assortment of oils and towels, arrange within the nook.

“You are early,” Porter says, and there’s a huskiness to his voice that makes me blush.

“I am sorry.”

“Do not apologize.” He steps across the desk and comes in the direction of me. “We have set to work on that. You don’t have anything to apologize for. I need you shifting via this world with confidence, not nerves, you hear me?”

My cheeks flame even redder as he reprimands me, and Porter chuckles. “You are cute as a fucking button, you already know that, Bailey?”

This surprises a giggle out of me. “Oh! Nicely, thanks.”

His answering chuckle is low and dances throughout my nerves. “Why do not you get undressed and underneath the sheet whereas I am going lock up and take a fast bathe? I will not be lengthy.”

My jaw drops. “Undressed?”

Porter smirks. “Bailey. It is a therapeutic massage. It’s very regular.”

“Proper,” I whisper. Completely regular. After all.

Then, he winks at me and walks out of the workplace, closing the door behind him.

I am frozen for a second, taking in all that has occurred in the present day. He kissed me earlier, and a part of me thought he would kiss me once more and simply neglect the therapeutic massage. However no, right here he’s with this skilled setup, and I ponder if the kiss was only a one-time mistake. Porter looks like he’ll deal with this all so…so distantly? Scientific?

He did name me cute, so there’s that. And now I am speculated to undress in his workplace so he can therapeutic massage me. I shake my head. That sounds so weird.

Slowly, I pull off my yoga garments and drape them over the arm of the sofa, standing in simply my bra and panties and rapidly making an attempt to determine if I ought to take these off, too. I undo my bra, letting it fall down my arms, and toss it with the remainder of my garments. Then, I slide my underwear off.

The sheets are crisp and funky, and I climb on the therapeutic massage desk and wrap the highest of the sheet tightly round my breasts. They’re pretty large, and the sheet does not maintain them as securely as I would like.

I am simply mendacity again down on the desk when the door opens and Porter comes again in. I rise simply sufficient to have a look at him and the sight makes all the pieces from my stomach down really feel tight and achy.

His hair is moist and slicked again, and he is become a pair of grey sweats however no shirt. My breath hitches and I’ve to look away, and the best way Porter exhales in amusement tells me that he notices.

“I am simply going to dim the lights and heat up some oil.” He flips the swap, filling the room with gentle yellow gentle from a lamp. “Chill out, child, and let me maintain you.”

I swallow, nodding, and Porter strikes to the facet of the therapeutic massage desk, a bottle of oil in his arms.

“I will pull the sheet down a bit,” he warns and gently tugs the sheet down round my waist.

The cool air hits me, and I shiver, goosebumps rising on my pores and skin. Porter rubs the nice and cozy oil into his palms, and I am mesmerized as I watch his muscle mass transfer and ripple.

“Eyes entrance, child,” Porter says, and my breath hitches.

I tear my eyes away from his muscular chest and abdomen, closing them. Then, his arms are on me, and I let loose a pant, my physique tensing.

“Child, calm down.”

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