Page 8 of Flushing His Pipe
I motion for her to get the door as she rushes over to grab him from me. "I've got him. He was stuck upstairs."
I clear the doorway and set Fred down on his cushy dog bed. He rolls over happily as Naomi buries her face in his fur.
"I'm so sorry, buddy." She glances up at me. "Thank you, Jameson."
I nod, knowing I need to leave but unable to make my feet move. "Looks like his foot is a little sore."
"I'm so glad you found him. He could have stepped on a nail or something." Naomi scratches his head, looking like she wants to cry.
"I checked. No cuts or anything."Why do I always sound so angry around her?"If he's not doing well tomorrow, let me know and I'll ask Emmett where he takes his dog," I add in a softer tone.
"Okay." Naomi nods, looking so miserable that I have to force myself not to scoop her into my arms and tell her it's all going to be okay.
I turn toward the front door.
"Wait, let me repay you." Naomi jumps to her feet and grabs my hands in hers. "I burned dinner, but let me give you that massage."
"No, that's not–"
"Please? I'm really good at it. I promise." Naomi smiles at me, looking so hopeful that I inexplicably find myself agreeing.
"Okay." Anything to make her happy, even if it's torture for me.
"Yeah? All right, let me get set up. Give me one minute. I was just going through all the supplies earlier."
I swallow hard, my heart racing as I try to figure out if it's possible to turn tail and run instead. Fred looks at me like he can read my mind, and he’s not impressed with my plan. I have no intention of being shamed by a dog, so I help Naomi pull out the table and lock it in place.
"Take your shirt off," Naomi says, biting her lip in that way I like a lot. I start to protest, but she grins. "Come on, Jameson. I'm a professional. I want to use the oils."
I nod but don't move.
"I can take my shirt off too if it makes you feel more comfortable," Naomi teases, giving me a flirty smile.
I almost choke on my tongue as I reach behind my neck and pull my t-shirt off one-handed, tossing it onto the couch. Naomi lets out a little breath of air and turns quickly to gather her supplies.
What the hell is happening to me? Am I going to do this?
"Pants too." Naomi pulls a sheet from a pile and drapes it over the top of the table. She lifts the headrest at the top, clicking it in place, then grabs a bolster pillow.
I lower my pants, keeping my eyes on the non-sexual pillow and willing my cock to remain cool.
"Ready. Do you want to start facing up or down?" Naomi says, gesturing toward the table.
"Down!" I shout because of my totally uncool cock.
Naomi gazes at me, her voice so soft and sensual that my heart skips a beat. "Great. Lie down, Jameson."
I move forward quickly and climb onto the table with all the grace of a big oaf.
"Put your face in the circle and let me know if it's not comfortable," Naomi says.
The sound of bottles opening has me on edge, and I'm hard as a rock, pressed against the table. I amnotcomfortable in the least, and no amount of shifting is going to change that.
Naomi smooths her hands over my back, her fingers kneading into my sore muscles.
I groan loudly.
"Good job. Let it out." Naomi's thumbs press along my shoulder blades, and my muscles protest from the intrusion, but the pain gives way to pleasure as they gradually unknot.
