Chapter Two
The touch of skin, the warmth, and the breathing of another human lying beneath her always pulsated a quick beat to her heart. She loved the rush, she loved the way her breathing would pickup in speed. It was a thrill; it was a sensation she could never describe.
This was her high.
This was her escape.
This was a need to keep her desires rising with sexual pleasure.
Her days were always busy; she loved to occupy her time. It was a mechanism to keep her mind from sneaking away to it's constant wandering.
"Jazmín, it's so great to see you again." The happy client greets his favorite therapist, "I couldn't get here quick enough." He gingerly takes a seat in the leather chair.
"You shouldn't be running around Jonny," She laughs lightly. "We've been over this, you're supposed to be taking steps with caution. I don't want you twisting your ankle again." She warns him with gentle concern.
"I couldn't help myself." He grins.
It was her.
It was impossible to get her off his mind; he's grow impatient with waiting for her lingering touches. Johnny flashes her a Colgate smile, his dark skin results to her own heart rate to beat with a knowing desire.
Not at work Jazmín. Not at work.
She scolds herself and shakes the filthy thoughts away.
"Let's begin with yesterdays trainings." With cautiousness, she steps into his personal space and helps him back up to his feet. "One step at a time." She guides him into the training area.
Hands touch.
Heart rages.
She takes in the way her hands brush with his own; the way their skin feels against each other.
Inhale. Exhale.
Musky scents of a man stemmed her throbbing center to develop eagerly with an erotic demand. Her hands always glided against the smoothness of her client's skin, a need to stay professional and keep her desires discreet.
"Lay down for me," She clears her throat.
They share a smile; her blue-greys sparkle and compel Johnny to do as she's requested.
He settles down on the leather base, wincing to the throbbing pain in his left ankle.
"How are you feeling?" She asks, slipping her hands down to his ankle.
Secretly, she loved the fact he opted a pair of men's shorts. It provided her hands better access to the dark skin he took care of so seamlessly.
"Oh," His groans bring her back to reality. "That feels good." Another grunt escapes his lips, and all she can do is hope the throbbing between her thighs doesn't shoot through any further.
"Yeah?" She breathes. "Does that make you feel good?"
"Definitely." She had to stop herself from taking the handsome man, a pleasuring need to please someone, feel, and taste would forever keep her imprisoned.
Jazmín Alice, a woman with an exterior that would have anyone fooled. The raven-haired beauty with looks that will have you convinced god took extra time on her, carving the sculptured body, face, and eyes with art. She was art, her mind was a whirlwind of fucked up images, she masks her true self with pleasant smiles, and polite words.
