'This was supposed to be a relaxing experience,' Greg told himself, but relaxation was the last thing he felt as Cammy's hands worked their magic—and their torment—over his back.
"When was the last time you had a proper massage?" she murmured, her fingers pressing deep into the knots of tension coiled beneath his skin. "Your muscles are like stone."
Greg exhaled sharply, burying his face in the pillow, his body taut for reasons beyond muscle strain. "I don't remember. I've been… busy." His voice was husky, strained, as he fought against the unwelcome—yet inevitable—reaction stirring beneath him.
Cammy clucked her tongue, her touch both punishing and hypnotic. "That's why you're like this. Always stiff, always tense. This isn't good for you, Greg."
If only she knew.
He bit down on a groan as her thumbs dug into a particularly stubborn knot. The pressure sent ripples of sensation coursing through him—pain laced with something dangerously close to pleasure.
