The hallway flooring creaked slightly as he walked through the hallway. He moved toward Stella’s room, drawn by the sound of her voice, a thread of frustration woven through it. The door was ajar, a slice of her world visible: The cute covered walls with pages of various books making up most of the interior design. And on her bed, Stella.He pushed the door open wider.The words died in his throat.It wasn’t just that she was on the bed, stretching as she’d asked. It was the how.<\/p>\n\n\n
The light, thick as day, covering the room and caught on the tiny, intricate bows of her lingerie. The color was a shock, a defiant splash of marigold against the stark background. It was skimpy, indeed, little more than scraps of lace and satin connected by delicate strings, barely covering the essentials. The fabric was so thin it was nearly translucent in the golden light, hinting at the warmth and shape beneath.”Seth?<\/p>\n\n\n
” Her voice, when it came again, was smaller than he remembered, more youthful. She twisted on the bed, her arm reaching back toward her nice round ass, a gesture of discomfort that was profoundly, uncomfortably intimate. “Can you… can you help me stretch? My back is killing me.”Seth’s throat was tight. He stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a sound that seemed impossibly loud in the sudden silence.<\/p>\n\n\n
The air smelled of her\u2014a clean, faint scent of lavender soap and something warmer, something uniquely Stella. He moved toward the bed, his body operating on some separate, instinctual track from the shouting alarm in his mind.”Okay,” he managed, the word a rough rasp. “Okay, honey. Just… try to relax.” He knelt on the edge of the mattress, the springs groaning softly under his weight. His hands hovered over her back, unsure.<\/p>\n\n\n
The expanse of her skin, framed by the bright yellow strings of her bra, seemed vast and fragile. He could see the faint dimples above her hips, the smooth curve of her spine.He placed his hands on her lower back, just above the waistband of her panties. Her skin was warm. Impossibly warm. He pressed gently, feeling the tension there, the tight knots of muscle.”Right there,” she breathed, her voice muffled by the pillow she’d turned her face into. “That’s the spot.<\/p>\n\n\n
“He began to knead, his thumbs working slow circles. He was supposed to be a stepfather and she was an adult. But he was supposed to be fixing her back. He told himself this, over and over, a desperate mantra. But his hands were learning the landscape of her in a way they never should. They were tracing the line of her spine, feeling each vertebra, memorizing the texture of her skin.The massage cream was on her nightstand, a small, innocent-looking container. An excuse. A justification.<\/p>\n\n\n
His fingers found the cap, flipped it open. The scent of almonds and vanilla filled the air, sweet and heavy. He warmed the lotion between his palms, the motion mechanical, practiced.His hands returned to her skin, now slick with cream. The glide was easier, smoother, more dangerous. His fingers traced the edge of her bra strap, the line where lace met skin. He followed it down, down, to the clasp at her back.<\/p>\n\n\n
His fingers fumbled for a moment, clumsy with a heat that had nothing to do with the lotion.\u00a0She guided the straps down her arms, pulling the flimsy bit of lace away. Her back was completely bare now, offered up to him in the warm, fragrant room. He spread the cream across her firm ass and \u00a0smooth expanse of her back. Her breathing had changed. It was deeper now, slower. A soft, almost inaudible sigh escaped her lips.The last scrap of yellow followed the first.<\/p>\n\n\n
He peeled the damp panties from her, the fabric clinging for a moment before releasing her. Now, there was nothing left. Just Stella, golden in the sunlight, slick and shining with the massage cream, her body a landscape of soft curves and shadows that he had no right to explore.<\/p>\n\n\n