Forbidden Professor – Southern Heat Read Online Natasha L. Black

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Forbidden Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
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“Okay,” she said, curling up into me and walking to the door.

As we opened it up, the smell of oils and fragrance hit us like a wall. We walked to the counter and the pretty older lady manning the desk looked up with a smile and eyelashes that I was absolutely positive she was not born with.

“Hi, I have a couples massage booked for today, under Camden Smith.”

“Certainly, let me take a look,” she said, typing on her laptop with oversized, also likely not natural nails. “Here we are,” she said. “Looks like you are early by about ten minutes. I’ll go see if they are ready for you, but otherwise, make yourself comfortable in our waiting area.”

She motioned to a room to the side where an old man was lying in a chaise lounge with his arms crossed over his chest and looking for all the world like Dracula, preparing for the night’s festivities by getting in a little nap.

We waited for a few minutes in the lobby; the sound of water dripping down a built-in waterfall on the wall, until we were called to the back. We followed a young woman into a small room that smelled like steam and disinfectant and were handed white, fluffy bathrobes.

“If you could put these on and lie down on the tables there,” the girl said, then turned to leave.

“So,” I said, looking at the robe. It looked like it might just cover my dangling bits. “Are we supposed to get naked now?”

“Yup,” Kristen said, disrobing in a fluid motion that never failed to make me stop and watch. It was like magic the way she could take off any piece of clothing and completely stop my brain from operating. Her breasts bounded out of her bra as she unhooked it, and I felt a rush go through my body when I saw she was wearing a red thong that matched her bra.

“Mm,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying.

“That was supposed to be a surprise for you when I got inside,” she said, grinning. “Oops. Surprise ruined.”

“Oops,” I repeated, mesmerized by her as she hooked two thumbs in the waistband and shoved the thong down to her ankles, bending over seductively and looking back over her shoulder at me as she slipped them over her feet.

“I… don’t think I can lie on my stomach now,” I said.

“Later,” she muttered, slipping on the robe and getting on the table, the open robe falling down either side. “It will be worth it.”

“I bet it will,” I said, disrobing as well. I saw her eyes flit over to me as I took off my boxers and my hard, throbbing cock pushed against the fabric of the robe like a tentpole.

I lay down, tucking it down between my legs and grabbing a towel from the table beside me to cover the part of my ass that was exposed. A few moments later, a knock on the door signaled the arrival of the two masseurs. One was a large lady with a serious expression and arms that rivaled a bodybuilder’s, and the other a petite woman who looked like a strong gust of wind could make her take flight.

Immediately, the larger one went to work on my back, and the sound of the first crack made me freeze in place. In a thick accent that I could only place as from somewhere in Eastern Europe, she leaned down and spoke to me.

“It won’t hurt if you relax,” she said.

I turned to face her to perhaps tell her that relaxing was impossible with her ham-hock hands rearranging my spine and was stopped before the words came out. The tiny one was currently standing barefoot on Kristen’s back, walking up and down it like a tightrope, and Kristen was making sounds that I had only ever heard her make in the bedroom.

“Don’t clench,” the woman said, and suddenly my back exploded in a sound that I could only describe as what happens when a person balls up a potato chip bag with the chips still inside.

A few hours later, we were in a hotel room in Powhatan, waiting for room service to bring our dinner to us and feeling like our bodies were made of jelly. When the knock on the door signaled their arrival, I made myself slide out of the bed to go retrieve it and tip them.

“I don’t know if I have the energy to eat,” Kristen said from her place on the bed. She was wearing the bathrobe from the massage parlor and nothing else, and I felt certain parts of my body wake up at the sight of her naked bottom half.

“I think I know a way of working up your appetite,” I said.

“Really?” she asked, her head turning toward me and a look in her eyes that dared me to continue my thoughts.



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