Burning up Under His Touch

Ever since I began exploring my sensual side, a door had opened to a whole new realm, and there was no turning back.

I craved the tremors that crawled across my skin and the thrill of losing control. It shattered my dull, ordinary life. Even the hollow ache that followed a climax felt like a beautiful kind of torment.

But eventually, that void became too deep for my husband, Julien Barry, to fill. The longing turned into a fire that scorched me every single day.

Julien tried everything—toys, new positions, exploring every inch of my body—but nothing worked for long.

He told me that I had an insatiable appetite and no man could ever satisfy me.

When my best friend, Elaina Rivers, heard about my situation, she recommended a professional massage therapy center to help channel my desires. She claimed it was the perfect remedy to cure me.

The loneliness and the constant, unmet hunger were becoming unbearable.

After a lot of back-and-forth in my head, I decided to give it a shot.

The massage therapy center was tucked away at the end of a narrow alley. Inside, the lighting was dim and moody, and the decor was simple yet elegant.

A female receptionist led me to a private room. It was sparse, with just a single massage table and a wooden cabinet topped with various glass jars.

I changed into the disposable underwear provided by the center.

The top was little more than a scrap of fabric that barely covered the peaks of my breasts, leaving the lower half completely exposed to the air. The panties were a sheer, delicate mesh that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

To my shame, the mere friction of the fabric against my skin triggered a physical reaction.

My breasts reacted instantly to the touch of the fabric, my arousal starkly apparent. My underwear was already moist, offering only a translucent veil over my most private curves.

I felt like asking the receptionist for a set of clothes, but deep down, I knew it would be useless.

I tried to calm myself down.

The therapist would be a woman anyway, so there was nothing to be ashamed of. After all, I was here for treatment.

But when the door was pushed open, and I caught sight of the therapist, my heart sank.

Before I came here, Elaina hadn't mentioned that they had male therapists here.

He looked to be in his 20s, fit and athletic, with a clean-cut look and a friendly face. He wore a simple black tank top that did nothing to hide his broad chest and the sharp definition of his abs.

As soon as he walked in, I instinctively pressed my legs together and crossed my arms over my chest.

I could feel his intense gaze on me, as if his eyes could burn right through the little clothing I had left.

Being watched like that felt even more intimate than being touched.

Just as I was about to get up and call the whole thing off, he spoke. "Ms. Jemma Ferrell, right? Hi, my name is Liam Phillips. I'm therapist number seven. It's a pleasure to meet you."

His voice was smooth and gentle.

After introducing himself, Liam walked toward me. His smile was kind, with a boy-next-door charm.

I relaxed slightly, though I still stammered, "C-Could I… change into something else?"

Since a male therapist was treating me, I figured I should change into something more decent.

But Liam just smiled and gently took my hand, which was covering my chest.

"It's okay. I understand," he said.

His gentle voice played with my willpower, which was already being tormented by a deep sense of emptiness.

"You're here because of your addiction, so it's perfectly normal for your body to lose control. After all, that's exactly why I'm here, isn't it?"

As Liam spoke, he moved my hand aside, leaving my chest completely exposed to his gaze.

He didn't do anything inappropriate. He just held my hand and led me to the edge of the table.

"Just trust me. I'm a professional. I'll take care of you."

The heat of his palm and the sight of his muscular frame made my head spin, but there was something so reassuring about his tone.

I found myself lying down, following his lead.

As I settled onto the table, the skimpy fabric shifted. My breasts spilled out of the top entirely, baring themselves to the cool air.

Aware that my chest was so revealed, a wave of heat rushed to my face.

But at the same time, the friction of the movement sent a fresh jolt of pleasure through me, making me let out a soft moan. The dampness between my legs intensified.

The empty ache was back, and it was agonizing.

However, Liam seemed unfazed by my body.

He picked up a bottle of light-red essential oil and explained calmly, "I'll start with some essential oils to relax your body and mind. It's also very good for the skin. Later, I'll use a special cream for the deep-tissue work. It'll help soothe the congestion in your system."

Liam rubbed the oil between his palms to warm it up.

Then, his hot hands pressed down against the skin of my stomach.

I tensed involuntarily.

"Don't be nervous," he said. "I'm going to start now."