Tea Parties in Boston

40 - Magnetic

AN: Just a note that this story has been changed to rating M - as you might guess that it means some naughty thoughts/deeds to come.

Chapter 40

November 13th, 2022

Rory found herself back on the Pierre suite couch with Logan's hands kneading the heel and arche of her left foot. His hands weren't rough - they had never been - but even in their perfectly moisturized and kept state, his hand muscles felt strong and masculine. There was this one move he did, that sent jitters down her spine - he would bring his fingers together and spread them out as he moved over her sole towards the bottom of her toes. He repeated that a number of times. After god knows how many times - she'd lost count - he jammed his fingers between her toes and that just changed something. There was that feeling of stretching, nerve endings that hadn't been stimulated in a long while through touch. But it seemed that was reminding her of other places that hadn't gotten nearly enough attention these past years.

She could just feel her blood rushing into her abdomen and the heat that began to radiate was also causing her to become very wet. It was a little embarrasing even, how her clit was beginning to throb at the mere thought of his fingers caressing it.

The tiniest slip of Logan's fingers underneath the bottom edge of her leggings caused her to gasp at that sensation - it was as if he was slipping into forbidden territory. Logan had never really been good at sticking to the rules, had he? And that was a part that made being with him feel so electric. For the better part of an hour they'd been fooling themselves that this massage was just innocent... - clearly it wasn't, not the way she was picturing him just dropping the act and taking her with abandon right there. Perhaps pulling her to straddle him, with his firm arousal all ready and waiting or just slamming down on top of her and fucking her into the couch carelessly, audible slaps of skin against skin resonating over the living room.

Rory wondered whether he knew how aroused she was - could he see it? Maybe he could smell it? She wondered whether he still remembered her smell and taste. The brief thought of his lips between her folds was making her mind numbingly horny for him and she considered stretching out her other leg that he wasn't currently massaging and stroking over his crotch with it to get his attention. Yet his eyes were plastered onto the TV screen, while his fingers kept massaging her ankle. Seriously?

She wished he would just rip her leggings away, apart... whatever it took. She could just picture his fingers going around the waistband of her leggings and pulling them down, like he owned her. Just the mere thought of it made her more aroused, she was sure she'd left a damp spot on her leggings which he would be sure to see if he looked. Or was he just choosing to ignore it?

Rory licked her lips, desperately wanting to feel more. Just a touch, she was so sure it'd only really take her a single touch of his fingers to actually burst. But that touch never came, as she found herself in her own bed, panting, feeling sweaty and sticky without release, having been woken by the sound of the toilet flushing, of allthings, behind her wall, reminding her how it had all been a dream.

"Uh...," Rory let out a groan of disappointment. It wasn't the first time she'd dreamt this, one time she'd actually pictured him kissing his way up her legs. That truly had been a torture to wake up from. But in reality all that just... it just seemed so distant, there being this unspoken border of being proper between them these days. They struggled to really have a moment private enough for a kiss, let alone something more. She was finally beginning to sense how having children killed some parents' sex life. They were struggling to even re-start one.

He did want to restart one, didn't he? Beyond what had been their date on Tuesday - they hadn't really touched upon the subject either. She hated this half-forced guessing game. And that even knowing she'd been the one to insist over and over again to take things slow. Her thoughts and needs were not in agreement.