The Gift Read Online Free Page A

gracious remark. Jay’s eyes were glinting with a strange, vaguely confused intensity. He wanted her, that was obvious, but there was more than desire there. Something indefinable and enigmatic and possibly not even connected to sex at all.
    ‘Let me give you a foot massage.’
    His rough voice was soft and low and, before she could answer, he took her right foot in both his hands, cradling it as if it were fashioned out of porcelain. Then he began to massage, delicately and yet with assertion, and what had been bliss became sublime, almost breathtaking pleasure. The sensation of his cool hands on her skin was like having an orgasm right there in her foot, and unable to stop herself she made a noise that told him so.
    ‘Good?’
    ‘Oh God, yes.’
    What the hell am I doing?
    She tried to wrest her toes from his grip, but he held on firmly. The pressure of his hands was unyielding without hurting her abused foot.
    ‘Hush … hush … Why are you struggling? You like this, don’t you?’
    His fingers began to move again, pressing, circling, releasing tension and unwinding knots.
    What is this? Reflexology?
    Never one for alternative therapies, Sandy suddenly found herself an instant convert. His sensitive kneading of her metatarsals was having effects in most unexpected places.
    Her sex. It was as if he was touching her sex. Stroking. Pressing. Fondling. Exploring. The impending orgasm was no longer confined to her foot.
    ‘No,’ she murmured, closing her eyes again, her face flaming. She tried to struggle again, but it was half-hearted, merely token.
    ‘Yes,’ he asserted, fingers still moving and circling.
    Sandy slid down in the seat, her thighs parting. It was like being hypnotised by touch, mesmerised by sensation. All her negative reactions to him were dissipating like mist in the moonlight, leaving only a woman’s yearning for his strength and his mystery.
    He was intent on her foot, studying it closely as he worked. Sandy felt drugged and dreamy, her body loose now, and fluid. Her sex was soft, open and ready, and she could feel silky arousal drench the crotch of her panties.
    It’s a fantasy … just a fantasy … It’s not real.
    And it seemed that way as she shifted her hips on the bench, bunching her dress beneath her as Jay continued to caress her foot. Drenched in euphoria, she stared down at him, loving the dark fuzz of his hair as it clung to his scalp, and the focused expression on his austere face. There seemed to be nothing sexual in his expression, but in her gut she knew he knew precisely what he was doing. The foot massage was a deliberate assault, a careful strategy for seduction.
    And God, was it ever working. Her pussy felt wide andpouched. Surely he could smell her arousal? He was close to it, and her dress was thin and silky, and her knickers even less substantial.
    As if he’d heard her thoughts, he looked up at her, and with one last squeeze of her toes he abandoned her foot and ran his long fingers deliberately up her calf, to her knee. He cupped his hand around the back of it, the very tips of his fingers on the underside of her thigh, then he gripped harder, shifting her leg a little to the side on the bench, making space. Edging forward a little, he grew closer, ever closer to the heart of the matter.
    Seemingly satisfied with his position, he slid his hands down flat, one on each of her thighs, and began to edge the silk hem of her dress up her freshly waxed legs. The dress was dark green, slightly iridescent with flashes of emerald, and it seemed to fluoresce in the twilight as if reacting to a magnetic field, or just the presence of Jay.
    Looking directly into her eyes, he slid the edge of the silk up to her crotch, right up to the level of her panties. His expression was more complex than ever. Hot and hungry, but with drifting shadows in the dark-grey depths of his eyes. He seemed to want her, but not like a normal man. There was a strange reverence in his face, as if he too