"I can tell," she purred, her slender hand stroking him up and down with slow, deliberate movements, the way she knew all too well drove him crazy with lust. But when her hand slid further back to gently squeeze his swollen testicles, he clamped his fingers around her wrist, stilling her movements.
"I'll come in your hand in about ten seconds if you keep doing that," panted Ian. "And I would much rather come inside of you.'
Tessa squealed in surprise as he swooped her into his arms, tossed her on their enormous king-sized bed, pulled off her barely there thong, and then thrust fully inside of her – all within a matter of seconds. As controlled and disciplined as Ian was about most aspects of his life – including their lovemaking – he could just as easily turn into a wild man in the bedroom with very little encouragement. This, evidently, was going to be one of those times.
"Sasha will be right with you, Matthew. Are you sure I can't offer you some water or tea?"
Matthew smiled at the perky front desk clerk. "No, thank you. And here's the form you asked me to fill out. I don't think I missed anything."
"Oh, thanks."
He handed the clipboard and pen, along with the client information form and waiver he'd just completed, across the counter to the young girl who'd introduced herself as Willow upon his arrival. She was nearly as thin as the tree she shared a name with, almost waifishly so, with shoulder length black hair that had been dyed purple at the tips. Like everyone else he'd seen walk through the yoga studio since his arrival five minutes ago, Willow was casually dressed in cropped yoga pants, a floaty tunic, and flip flops. Matthew silently cursed himself for not having taken the time to change clothes before leaving the office, since his Dior suit, Brooks Brothers tie, and Prada oxfords were very sadly out of place here.
Truth be told, he'd never felt entirely comfortable wearing a suit and tie, or any other sort of expensive designer clothing. He missed the early days of his career, when he could get away with wearing jeans and a T-shirt to the office and no one would blink an eye. And even on the casual Fridays he'd insisted on implementing at MBI, he hesitated at presenting too casual of an image and usually wore pressed khakis and an open-necked shirt.
Unlike the handful of men he'd seen in the studio since walking through the front door. They had all been wearing loose fitting shorts or nylon track pants, T-shirts or tanks, and either sandals, sneakers, or no shoes at all. Self-consciously, he undid the top two buttons of his shirt and loosened his tie, wondering if he should just dispense with the latter altogether and stuff it in his pocket. He –
"Matthew. It's a pleasure to see you again. Even if you're several months later than expected."
He glanced up at the sound of that soft, melodious voice, his gaze colliding with those mysterious green-gold eyes that had reminded him of a lioness's the first time they had met. Sasha was smiling at him with that particular air of serenity that seemed to envelop her like a cloud, and he stared at her for long seconds as though awestruck. And while her attire of slim fitting dark gray yoga pants and a midnight blue tank top was at the very opposite end of the scale from the formal bridesmaid's gown she'd been wearing at Tessa and Ian's wedding, Matthew thought vaguely that he preferred her this way. He didn't think he'd ever met anyone who seemed as comfortable in their own skin as Sasha did, and he knew without being told that she wasn't a woman who fussed over her appearance.
She also, he noted with an unexpected surge of lust, had a rather amazing figure – slender and graceful, with leanly muscled arms and legs, and narrow hips and shoulders. Her breasts were on the small side but looked firm and nicely shaped, and their size was in perfect balance with the rest of her body. She looked like a dancer, and he could still visualize the impromptu little ballroom dance performance she and her date had given at the Gregsons' joint bachelor/bachelorette party. Her bare feet were as slim and dainty as the rest of her body, the toenails unpolished.
As she continued to gaze at him expectantly, Matthew rather clumsily reached out a hand in her direction. "It's - it's good to see you, Sasha," he replied, his voice cracking just a little. "And I'm, uh, sorry for not making an appointment until now. Life has been - well, let's call it complicated as of late."
She shook her head, causing that untamable mane of corkscrew curls to bounce endearingly. At the same time she clasped his hand in her much smaller one, giving his a reassuring little squeeze. "No need to apologize," she replied softly. "And I hope that your being here will help make things a little less complicated for you. Come, follow me."