Page 21 of Her Puck Daddies

Ava’s set up the room differently than Greg did. There’s a fountain bubbling away in the corner, and soft background music drifts from her phone. Instead of the heavy incense Greg used, she has flameless candles that barely have any scent.

Eric must appreciate that.

“I’ll step out while you strip down. You can be nude or in your underwear, whichever you prefer. Please lie prone on the table with your face through the ring and the towel covering your midsection.”

She’s gone before I can say anything. Her tone is almost identical to Greg’s when I first came in here—clinical, detached, like she doesn’t know me at all. I don’t expect her to be as thorough or go all-in on the deep tissue work like Greg did, but whatever. I might as well get this over with.

I strip down to my boxer briefs and lie on the table, the towel draped over my ass just like she instructed. Ava knocks on the door, just once, and then cracks it open, peeking inside.

“Okay if I come in?”

“Yeah.”

If I didn’t already know better, I could swear that she’d never been around me before.

“I understand that you’ve recently suffered a pulled muscle in your right shoulder. Is that correct?”

“Mm-hmm,” I grumble. I’m still not happy about my injury, even though the tenderness has lessened somewhat over the past few days.

“Let’s start there.” She rests her fingertips on my bare skin, and even though her hands aren’t cold, I tense up. “Do me a favor and take a nice long inhale for me.” She models this by audibly doing the same. “And now, blow it out.”

I do as she says, and she sounds pleased.

“There. That’s better. I’m going work on the muscle groups that surround your shoulder first, then I’ll conduct the rest of the full body massage. If you feel any pain or need me to adjust the pressure, let me know.”

I almost tense back up when she touches me again, but since I know that’ll do more harm than good, I do my best to turn into a flimsy dishrag. She uses her thumbs to create this fanning motion from the top of my shoulder, working her motions downward until she reaches my elbow.

“Any discomfort?”

If she’d done that right after the game, I would’ve hissed at her like a snake. But now…

“No. Not really.” Not much.

“So, no pain or some pain?”

“Minimal pain, but it’s not bad.”

“Okay, then.”

She continues her work, using a mix of techniques to knead the muscle group. I find myself growing drowsy, blinking myself awake more than once. It's the same reaction I had under Greg’s care, but with Ava, her touch feels even more healing. I can’texplain it. It’s like she instinctively knows where to be gentler without me having to say a word.

Ava zeroes in on the kinks in my lower back, a trouble spot of mine, and digs in, working them out with expert precision. Then again, she is an expert. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be trusted to take care of all of us.

“Flip over for me?” she asks, and my body’s so relaxed I feel like batter that hasn’t quite cooked enough to be a pancake. Still, I manage to comply.

She begins at the front of my wounded shoulder, her fingers working gently, almost tenderly, over the injury. The pressure she applies feels good, soothing even, but it’s that shift in position that makes something inside me stir. I know it’s her. Not Greg. Ava.

Seeing her like this, focused, her attention moving down my torso, adds a new weight to the moment. As her hands work into the flesh of my pecs and abs, each movement has a deeper effect on me. Maybe it’s the way she leans in, her gaze dropping toward the cock I once drove into her willing mouth...

I remember it all so vividly.

How plump and juicy those pink lips of hers were as she opened her jaw. The sparkling intensity of her dark eyes as she kept themlocked on my own. How she took her time before enveloping me. The visual of her inching her way toward the bulbous tip of me had dribbles of clear precum seeping from my tip.

And that had been nothing to how she felt. There’d been heat and exactly the right amount of moisture as her tongue danced along the thick vein at the back of my shaft, running from root to tip. As crazy euphoric as that had been, when she’d sucked me down, half swallowing me into her throat, I’d had to exert every millimeter of my control to keep from spilling right then and there.

And of course. With all this untimely imagery filling my brain, my cock springs to life as if she just might do it again.

I go still, each of those loose muscles tightening right back up again, when she tuts at me despite the skin across her cheeks flushing a noticeable pink.