Strip Poker
Please be advised that this excerpt contains adult material, unsuitable for younger readers.
Chapter One
Stretch limos don’t normally impress me. Except I wouldn’t think you could get a full-size massage table in one. Goes to show you how good my depth perception is. The legs were sawed off like those of a stool, but I was high enough to look through the tinted windows at all the kids smoking pot and the frustrated map readers at the Eros fountain in Piccadilly. I was lying on my back, nude, which was okay by me because Fitz was naked as well, kneeling at the end of the table, cradling my right foot in one hand.
He had spent the last forty minutes reducing me to a pliant mass of soft flesh, practically every muscle in my body relaxed while the whole limo smelled like lavender and a couple of other massage oils. Alicia Keys’s new album was playing on the portable stereo. And there was Fitz, nut-brown biceps flexing and swelling as his fingers worked the ball of my foot, that wide chest of his falling and rising with each breath. When he inched his way forward on one knee, I looked at the vanity mirror he had propped up and ...
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