Complementary Massage

Chanel Preston sits in her robe when someone knocks. She opens the door and Codey Steele stands there holding a fold-out table. Free massage, he says, hotel perk for repeat guests. She shrugs, drops the robe and panties, then climbs onto the table. His hands press and glide, digging into knots, then glide lower. He mutters that her skin’s like warm silk; she lets the flattery wash over her anyway. Soon his thumbs circle her nipples, palms cup her ass, sliding until a fingertip dips between her cheeks. Slick and obvious, she spreads her knees wider. Codey’s tongue finds her clit first, quick flicking strokes that make her thighs quake. A moment later he straightens, frees his cock, and pushes inside her with one smooth thrust. They move hard, table creaking, her moans bouncing off cheap wallpaper. She comes again when he spills across her back. Worth every tip, she thinks, already planning next month’s stay.