Chapter 5
The day after the trail ride, I hurt like I have never hurt before. Ten hours of dance? Nothing compared to the pain in my thighs and legs.
Blitz knew it was coming and booked a massage appointment for late the next morning.
As the woman sets up her massage table in the living room, Blitz sprawls on the sofa, biting into a bright red apple. “Probably I should have a stiff drink while this goes on, but I’ll be healthy instead,” he says.
The lady passes me a white robe to change into. “Why would you need a stiff drink for this?” I ask him.
But a few minutes later, I get it. The woman peels the white robe down and slides warm oil over my back. It’s impossible not to groan with the pleasure of it.
Blitz pads off to the kitchen and I can hear the clink of bottles. This makes me smile. Not even noon.
When he comes back, he has a short glass filled with ice and probably bourbon. It’s rare to see him with a drink. He kicks back on the sofa again.
The woman works her way to my legs. My groans become gasps as she hits the tough spots. “They really got your legs and glutes,” she says. She shifts the towel high on my thighs.
Blitz coughs into his glass. I watch him quietly, trying to manage the initial discomfort of her working on the pained muscles. I feel air hit my backside and realize I’m pretty much naked on this table for him.
His eyes don’t leave my body, sliding down and back up to meet my gaze. When the masseuse is faced away from him, he gestures to his crotch. I have to smile at the outrageous tent in his shiny workout shorts. I’m not sure who this massage is really for, him or me.
Gradually, the pain starts to work out of my muscles, and I can feel myself melting into the table. The woman’s strong hands move up and down my legs to ankles to feet. I didn’t realize how much strain I’d put on the stirrups until she pressed into the arch of my foot.
“Really got you here too,” she says.
I nod. But once again, the soreness gradually shifts into utter relaxation. I groan again, and ice tinkles as Blitz takes another drink.
The woman slides the towel over me. “Roll over,” she says.
Blitz watches quietly as I turn onto my back. The woman moves my leg to work on the thigh, and the shift of the towel makes him cover his eyes.
This time a laugh escapes me. Poor tortured Blitz. I want to reach out for him now, send this woman away.
But there’s something in the anticipation, the tension of the wait. I adjust a little and the towel slips down, exposing a breast. When Blitz looks again, his head drops back, eyes on the ceiling. He shakes his head like there’s no way he can make it.
I close my eyes, reveling in how the pain yields to this woman’s work. She heads back to my ankles, moving my foot in circles. I should do this more often.
When I look at Blitz again, he has covered his face with his forearm. The drink dangles from his other hand, near the floor.
“Would you like to extend the massage?” the woman asks.
Blitz and I answer simultaneously, “No!”
I smile at her. “I mean, that was wonderful. I think it’s time for a nap now.”
The woman nods and helps me sit up. I hold the towel to me, for her sake, even though Blitz keeps making motions with his eyes for me to drop it.
I shake my head, a smile on my lips.
I change into a light sundress while she packs her things.
The front door has barely closed when Blitz comes up behind me and reaches for the hem of the dress. “I don’t think so,” he says as he lifts it up and over my head.
“What if she comes back for something?!” I exclaim as he tosses the dress aside. I’m not wearing anything beneath it.
“Then she’ll see you naked,” he says. His hands are all over me, running along the places the massage had been. “I seriously could not wait one more second.”
Blitz pulls me to him, his lips crushing against mine. My body glides along his in the shiny workout clothes, slippery still with the absorbed oils.
He lifts me up and wraps my legs around his waist. I can feel him through the shorts. His mouth is feverish and demanding as we walk through the house to the bedroom.
Each step causes me to slide against the length of him, building a need in me that makes me impatient to arrive. We make it to the bed and he leans forward, dropping me onto the mattress.
The smooth comforter is cool against my back. Blitz steps aside and tugs at the curtains that cover a set of French doors leading out onto a small patio.
Light floods into the room from the backyard.
“I want to see every delectable inch of you,” he says.
“You’ve already seen every inch of me.”
“Not enough,” he says.
He swiftly gets rid of his shirt and shorts. The sun wraps around his golden skin, each muscle defined, lighting up his dark hair. He is glorious, maybe even more now than when I met him. The aerial silk work has forced him to become stronger. His shoulders are broader, the sides of his chest more built out than before.
He places a knee on the bed and I reach out to slip my fingers along the shadows and planes of his body. He lets out a groan and leans over me, dropping another kiss on my mouth.
We connect only there until his hand reaches for me, starting at the curve of my waist and gliding up. His hand encircles a breast, his thumb crossing the nipple.
I sigh against his mouth. Being with Blitz never gets old. He is patient. He pays attention.
When my hips shift toward him, his hand starts its journey down. He pauses to circle a pattern around my belly button, making my body lift again, coaxing him to make his way to where I want him.
He smiles against my mouth. “Impatient, Princess?” he says. “I had to wait through an entire massage.”
Instead of moving on down, his hand goes to my hip. “I should make sure she did a thorough job on these muscles.” His fingers shift down my thigh, squeezing the muscle lightly. “Seems nice and relaxed. Does it hurt?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice strained.
“Mmm, I should keep checking.” His hand shifts to the other thigh.
His face gravitates toward my breast, taking a nipple in his mouth.
I lift up again, feeling hot, and wet, and full of need. “Blitz,” I say, almost a gasp.
“Mmm-hmm, I hear you,” he says against my skin. His mouth moves over to the second breast, and I shift again.
His hand reaches way down for my shin, massaging my calf. I grasp his head, hanging on to his thick hair. If his hands won’t obey, maybe I can convince his mouth to go where I want.
I push.
I feel his smile against me as he moves down, spreading hot kisses along my belly.
Then he’s there, no more coyness, his hands spreading me wide, mouth delving into the folds. When his tongue hits my clit, I cry out in exultation and relief.
He wastes no time now, adding fingers, slipping them deeply inside.
My body responds, caught in the intensity, the pleasure already flooding my veins. Then he gets me there, over the brink, and I’m calling his name, shuddering and pulsating as the orgasm takes over everything else.
I’m gasping, barely functional, when he grasps my waist and flips me over. My hair is everywhere, escaping the loose knot from the massage, as he pushes me to my hands and knees and falls in place behind me.
“Not going to wait another minute,” he says, his voice low.
His hands hold my hips as he slides inside in one smooth stroke.
I cry out again, my head down, pressing back into him.
His moves are powerful, like a jungle cat. Each stroke hits new territory, different from what he was pleasuring just a moment ago. My muscles clamp down, eager to move with him, take what he’s offering, and make it work for him.
I lift higher and push back harder. Blitz moves faster behind me, his handhold tight and firm. It’s quick-paced and hard, pounding against my body mercilessly, creating a drumbeat inside me.
“Jesus, Livia,” Blitz says, his hands everywhere now, my back, my breasts, down across my belly. His fingers caress me again, and I want to weep, so many sensations, hard and soft, fast and long.
Then he slows down, each stroke luxurious and slow. I can’t take it. I want more. I need him. Need it now.
But he takes his time, bringing me higher, making me wait for it, until I’m an archer’s bow, stretched as far as I can go.
When he grasps my hips this time, one hand between my spread thighs, there is no stopping what’s coming. His powerful thrust into me sets off the lightning storm of reaction. I’m gasping, crying, shaking with the intensity of this orgasm. I feel him flooding me, holding still, his hand on my back.
I drop my head to the bed, holding myself together by a mere thread. It’s so often this way with Blitz. His desire, his care, his power. They all come together to reach parts of me I still try to hold inside. It’s his love. It’s mine. My losses. My baby girl. The dance.
I can’t contain it all and have to let it spill out. Hot tears come down my face.
Blitz knows me. He understands the places I go. He smooths my hair away from my face and wraps his arms around me.
We shift sideways on the bed and he curls me up inside the protective shell of his body. I’m surrounded by him, his skin, his comfort, his love.
I’m going to move through this. I couldn’t do it alone. But I don’t have to. I have Blitz.