I bunch the top sheet over to hide it.
I feel groggy and out of it as I adjust my baseball cap and prepare to leave, and I don’t think it’s just because most of my blood flow has been redirected to my cock. I move toward the reception area, rolling my head on my shoulders. I’m a lot less tense than I was when I walked in an hour ago—except for my dick.
Poppy’s standing at the desk, talking to the chick behind it. I take the opportunity to check her out, and my hard-on starts crying again. She’s short. Maybe five three or five four, tops.
She’s soft around the edges, nice and curvy. Her black yoga pants hug her ass. I can see her panty line. She’s rocking those boy short things.
Her strawberry blond hair is pulled up in a wavy ponytail, the end of which kisses the space between her shoulder blades. For some reason I have the urge to tug on the end as I approach her. I shove my hands in my pockets so I don’t. I also readjust my hard-on. I wish I had my Hummer, because I need to get my ass home so I can resolve my problem.
Poppy and the receptionist are whispering away when I reach the desk.
“Hey.”
She jumps and spins around, fumbling her clipboard. I catch it before it can hit the ground.
“Wow. You have amazing reflexes,” the receptionist says.
“That’s why they have me on defense.” I wink reflexively and turn to Poppy. The tips of her ears have gone pink, along with her cheeks. “Thanks for fixing me.”
She smiles, but avoids making eye contact. “It would probably be a good idea for you to schedule a follow-up appointment with your regular massage therapist for later in the week.”
“I don’t have a regular massage therapist.”
This time when she looks up she meets my gaze briefly. “But your team must have someone.”
We do, but now that I’ve had Poppy’s hands all over me, I kind of want them again.
“Maybe I could come back and see you?”
The receptionist coughs a little, and Poppy fidgets with her clipboard. She looks tense. Kinda like I was when I first came in here.
“Can you check the schedule for later this week, say Thursday or Friday?” Poppy asks.
I lean on the counter and observe her profile. The bridge of her nose and her cheeks are dotted with pale freckles. A faint sunglasses tan circles her eyes. She’s been enjoying the unseasonable weather and sunshine over the past few days. I wonder what she looks like in a bikini. I bet her ass is amazing.
The receptionist clicks away on the computer for a minute before giving Poppy an apologetic look. “You’re fully booked both days.”
She taps her pen against her lips. “What about Marcie, or April? Do they have any openings?”
“No,” I bark.
Poppy jolts, looking up. “I’m sorry?”
“I want you.” I honestly don’t mean for it to come out sounding like a line, but based on the shade of red she’s turning, it does. “I mean, you’ve already worked on me, so it’d make more sense for me to come to you, right?”
She clears her throat. “If that’s what you prefer.”
“It is. I do.” I lick my lips. “I prefer you.” I don’t know why her touching me feels different, but it does, and I want that feeling again.
“What’s Saturday look like?” she asks the receptionist who’s now gawking between us.
“You have one opening left, but it’s only half an hour at four in the afternoon.”
“We fly out for our last exhibition game on Saturday.”
Poppy taps her pen against her lips. She’s not wearing lipstick. They’re dark pink, full. I bet they look good wrapped around a cock. I bet they’d look amazing wrapped around mine. Fuck. I need to stop this shit. I can’t be imagining a blow job from my massage therapist. Even if she is hot.
“What if I put you on a waiting list? If there’s a cancellation, I can call you. Then if it works, you can come in before you leave for your game.”
The receptionist’s eyes widen, which tells me this isn’t something Poppy usually does.
“You’d do that for me?”
She looks away for a moment. “I’d do that for any of my clients. You need another session before your game and you’re right, I already know the issues. Bernadette, can you make sure Lance’s number is in the system so I can call if something comes available?”
“Other than workouts and practice, I’m open to come in almost any time.”
The bell over the door to the clinic chimes, drawing Poppy’s attention away. Her eyes go wide, and once again her cheeks flush.
“Hey, Romance, you all loose and limber now?” I hear Miller ask.
Randy snorts. “He’s always loose.”
I turn away from Poppy, annoyed by the interruption.
Miller looks at her and his face changes. “Hey! Poppy from the garden?”