Anger Management

Jordan walked through the glass doors of Nuru massage under doctor’s orders. Anger management class had hit a wall. The shrink said full-body treatment or stop wasting his time. Asa met him with a towel and zero small talk. "Told I’d make you chill." Jordan started bitching right away—lights too dim, music sucks, table’s cold. Asa just nodded and pointed him toward the shower. Once he lay down oiled up and naked, she climbed on top without asking. Every grunt he threw she answered with a deeper slide of her tits. He griped about the gel being sticky, about life sucking in general. She answered by sliding lower, taking his cock straight into her mouth until he was rock hard and panting instead of cursing. Jordan kept muttering through the wet noise, half protest, half moan. Asa kept the full weight of her body gliding—hips, breasts, belly—dragging warm gel across every inch of him. When she reached back with a greased hand to jerk him while she stroked him with her whole torso, the words finally stopped. All he managed was one shaky curse that sounded like surrender. She smiled against his skin and kept the glide slow and filthy, determined to fuck the temper right out of him.