The Prison (Book 1)

Massage

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Massage

"Oh." Thank God it wasn't anything dirty like he'd made it seem with his dark expression. "Y-Yeah, sure, but I'm not much of a masseuse." I warned as I went around the desk.

I sat down at his feet and looked up expecting him to raise the pant and expose his leg and bad knee. Instead, he got up, undid his pants and dropped them to the ground, and then he kicked them away. I supposed that worked too.

I promptly got to work on the leg, mimicking all that I'd seen on TV. I tried applying pressure with my fingertips at certain points that I think were called pressure points. Next, I rubbed him with the padded part of my hands just below the thumbs. In short, I was getting really creative with my so-called massage.

As I massaged his calf directly below his knee, I stole a glance upward at his face. He'd propped his elbow on the armchair and had his head resting against a fist with his eyes closed. I saw his eyebrows ruffle and unruffle with every squeeze and press I applied. I had no way of knowing if I was doing a halfway decent job or an absolutely horrible one. I'd wager it was the latter. Even so, Cain didn't give me the order to stop, so I experimented away. It was his own damn fault for asking me, not even an amateur, to do this anyway.

A short while after I'd started, Cain abruptly announced, "It's not enough."

"I told you I have no ex-"

"Massage higher."

Higher? "You mean your thigh?"

"Just above the knee," he confirmed without opening his eyes.

I mentally shrugged and did as he asked. It was then that I noticed the bulge in his boxers. Shocked, my fingers ceased moving on their own, my eyes stuck on the bulge. Wasn't he supposed to be in pain?! Was he a masochist or something?! Why the hell was he turned on with my half-assed massage?

He opened his eyes and saw me staring, wide-eyed. "It's been some time since I've... relieved myself," he drawled, the hint of a smirk playing at a corner of his mouth.

The shameless bastard wasn't even embarrassed to be sporting an erection not one foot from my face!

Panicky and in a voice that grated, I asked, "S-So? What do you want me to do about it?"

"Well," he began and reached down to free his cock from the confines of the measly piece of fabric.

I should have run then. I really should have. Yet somehow my legs didn't spring into action like I wanted them to, as if I were paralyzed, most likely from the absurdity and shock of it all. That and the hand that suddenly buried itself in my hair, keeping from going anywhere.

"Seeing that it was your boyfriend who put us in this situation in the first place, I'd say it's only fitting that you take responsibility on his behalf."

"No fucking way, pervert! You can forget about it." I shoved away from him and ended up smacking my head on the edge of the desk. Unfazed, I glared up at him, trying to communicate with my eyes all my vehement disapproval at his indecent proposal.

Here I was worrying about his health when all he wanted to do was get off, and have me do it no less.

Why, oh why did this always happen to me? It was like I'd walked into a surreal gay fantasy where EVERYONE I met was gay, and I was EVERYONE'S type. By now, I'd given more blowjobs in the span of a year than someone who'd known they were gay since birth! Did we attract each other like magnets or something?

"But you said you'd do anything," he drawled infuriatingly with that damned smirk of his.

"Yeah, well, the offer is off the table."

"Then allow me to introduce something new to the table. Maybe this will change you mind." He reached out a hand and opened the drawer in the desk right next to my head.

When I saw what it was he took out, my stomach plummeted and the blood drained from my face. The breath hitched in my throat.

Oh, he couldn't be serious!

Oh, but he was. I could see it in his feral eyes, the look I'd spotted when he'd asked me to massage him. Clearly, this was his intention all along, and me being the goddamn fool that I was, fell for his trap.

Cain placed the gun on the table. I wagered that it was the same gun he'd used to shoot Schneizel.

He arched a brow at me. "Well? Change your mind yet?"

"You bastard." I hissed through clenched teeth.

Well, here was the monster hiding in sheep's clothing. The mask had fallen off. I couldn't believe that, for a moments I'd begun to pity him, even excuse his behavior!

But no matter how much I wanted to blame him for it, I'd kind of done this to myself. I'd forgotten that Cain was not a friend but an enemy, and had let my guard down around him when I knew I shouldn't have. I'd even initiated a situation that might have not have transpired in the first place if I'd just taken the time to think clear-headedly before opening my big, fat mouth.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

He motioned at his erect dick. "Get to work."