Don''t Poke the Luna


    Xena''s POV


    "Come here." Ryder''s voice was low, with a maic quality that left no room for argument.


    I bit my lip, hesitating for a moment, but curiosity flowed through me like a warm current, pushing me toward him. Standing beside the massage table, I looked up at him, trying to mask my nervousness with a yful tone. "Yes, Mr. Alpha?"


    "Take off your clothes and lie down under the sheet. I''m going to get some oil." Ryder turned and left the room.


    I froze for a second, my heart skipping a beat. Take everything off? My fingers trembled as they touched the edge of my clothing. A rush of embarrassment washed. over me, but beneath it was an unmistakable excitement, like standing at the edge of a cliff, wondering what it would feel like to jump.


    I quickly stripped off my clothes, sliding under the cool sheet that sent a shiver across my bare skin. I''d barely positioned my face in the cradle at the end of the table when Ryder returned. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, pulsing like a drumbeat.


    He yed some soothing ocean sounds, the background noise washing over me like actual waves, trying to calm my nerves. The pop of a bottle cap made me tense, followed by the quiet sound of oil being squeezed out. I held my breath as I felt the sheet being pulled down, stopping just above my backside. The cool air against my exposed skin made me tremble.


    Ryder stood at the head of the table, cing his hands on my neck, warm and firm. His fingers began to move, sliding from my neck downward, slick with oil, gradually pushing toward my backside. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on my breathing, but his touch felt like electricity, igniting every inch of skin he contacted.


    I wanted to resist this feeling, to tell myself this was just a massage, but my body betrayed me, craving more. His fingers danced across my back, expertly kneading each muscle, as if systematically unlocking all my defenses. I clenched my jaw, afraid I might make a sound that would reveal the desire churning inside


    me.


    Ryder took my arm, lifting it gently. He sat on the table, resting my arm across his knee, one hand at the base of my skull, the other suddenly grasping a fistful of my hair, just enough to create a slight sting without actual pain. My breathing quickened, my eyes squeezed shut, my mind goingpletely nk.


    His fingers began working my shoulders, the pressure deep and focused. He worked around my shoulder des, carefully avoiding my injuries, continuing downward to massage my legs. The sheet was pulled back, exposing one leg and half my backside. With my face buried in the cradle, shame washed over me like a tide, but I didn''t move. Starting at my knee, he pushed upward with firm pressure, sliding to my backside, the oil making his fingers glide effortlessly.


    I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to moan. His fingers traveled along my inner thigh, so close to my core that my heartbeat nearly exploded.


    He lifted my foot, massaging the sole and the muscles of my leg, each movement precise. The soreness from training melted away beneath his touch. I felt almost hypnotized, surrendering my bodypletely to him. Then he pressed his elbow into my backside from the side, rotating my leg, the pressure drawing an involuntary whimper from me. His fingers once again approached my core, at such a dangerous proximity that every muscle in my body tensed. wanted him to stop, yet I wanted him to continue-the


    contradiction made me dizzy.


    He repeated the same movements with my other leg, then returned to my scalp. His fingers alternated between gentle caresses and firm grasps of my hair. My heartbeat waspletely out of control, my body like a me he''d ignited, ready to spiral out of control at any moment.


    He pulled the sheet up to cover me and said softly, "Turn over." His voice was calm but carried the weight of amand.


    I slowly turned onto my back. He took a towel and ced it over my breasts, then pulled back the sheet, exposing just one leg while carefully keeping the sheet over my private area, His hands started moving up my thigh, around the sheet, and up to my abdomen.


    I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself, but his touch was like fire tracing patterns on my skin. His fingers pressed into my shoulders, sliding along the curves of my body, the pressure deep and precise. I felt like I was being taken apart and reassembled, every inch of my skin trembling under his control.


    He stretched my arm out, his palm grazing the side of my breast, the contact so light yet sending a shock through my entire body.


    He continued downward, massaging my ankles, rotating my foot, meticulously attending to each muscle. He moved to the other side, his movements still careful, avoiding all my injured areas.


    His fingers worked my other foot, parting my legs slightly wider than before. I frowned, confusion mingled with unease, but his next move caught mepletely off guard. His hand slid up my thigh, briefly brushing against my core before quickly moving away. My heart nearly stopped, my body instinctively tensing as heat rushed through me.


    The sheet was repositioned to cover only my core, his hands working my inner thighs, so close yet not touching. My breathing grew heavy. Suddenly, the sheet slipped away, and before I could react, I felt wet heat enter my body.


    My hips jerked upward, a deep moan escaping my throat as I finally surrendered to the sensation.


    His arm slid under my leg, stretching upward as he yanked the towel away, his hands grabbing my breasts, squeezing firmly. His tongue began to move, precise and wild, his hands continuing to knead my abdomen and backside. My breathing became so rapid I felt I might suffocate, my bodypletely at his mercy, trembling uncontrobly.


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