Free Rough Rider by Victoria Vane

muffled groan trying to banish his lewd thoughts and will away the stirrings his imagination had invoked, but he was getting a hard-on, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. Panic set in.
    Fearing she’d notice, or worse yet, his dick would poke her in the eye, he tried to back away. With wet jeans tangled around his ankles, he lost his balance, and crashed backward, striking his head on the table before hitting the floor. “Goddamn sonofabitch!”
    â€œDirk!” Janice cried. “Are you OK?” She knelt beside him, pulling his head onto her lap to palpate his scalp. “There’s no blood. Thank God. Does it hurt?”
    The pain in his head was blinding. “Hell yeah. It hurts!”
    She bit her lip. “Is it worse on the inside or the outside?”
    â€œBoth,” he snapped. “It was mostly on the inside until this last dumb-ass maneuver. I’m wondering if I’ve developed some kind of subliminal death wish. Got a sledgehammer?”
    â€œWhat for?” she asked.
    â€œTo finish the job and put me out of my misery.”
    She shook her head with a sympathetic smile. “I don’t but maybe I can make it better?”
    â€œYou sure as hell can’t make it any worse,” he said.
    â€œHang on.” She softly lowered his head to the floor, then stood up to grab a pillow from the gooseneck. She then wet a dish towel at the sink and returned to sit cross-legged beside him with the pillow on her lap. “Head. Here.” She patted the pillow.
    Dirk complied without protest, easing his head into the marshmallow softness. She folded the wet dish towel and placed it over his eyes. “Trust me and try to relax. I do this for Mama whenever she gets migraines,” she explained in a voice as soft and soothing as her touch.
    She had magical fingers, he decided, after only a few seconds of her temple massage. She didn’t smell half bad either. His nose was badly swollen but he could still detect the subtle scent of vanilla. Vanilla was unfairly maligned in his estimation. He particularly liked vanilla. He breathed it in.
    Though his eyes were covered, he could see through a small gap alongside his nose. A gap that gave a very fine view of her breasts. They weren’t overly large, but perfectly shaped—nicely rounded and full. They jiggled slightly with the movements of her arms. He also noticed her nipples were still hard, much like his prick. His boxers were loose, but couldn’t camouflage his hard-on if she looked. He hoped she wouldn’t.
    A moment later, the abrupt pause of her fingers and sharp intake of breath told him she likely had. He held his own breath, waiting. Would she think him a complete perv, drop his head to the floor, and kick his ass out the door? To his relief, the scalp massage continued.
    â€œFeeling any better?” she asked after a bit.
    â€œYeah,” he said. “You’ve got great hands, Red. Feel free to put them on my body anytime.”
    â€œYeah?” Pause. “How’s the shoulder?”
    â€œReal stiff.” Like my dick. His early words of warning to Janice came back to haunt him with an erection-sustaining vengeance. Soft, warm, and vanilla-smelling Janice sure as hell wasn’t a troll.
    â€œOh?” He detected the smile in her voice. “Want me to try and work the kinks out for you?”
    She took the cloth away and their eyes met. He’d never given Janice’s eyes a good look before. Couldn’t even have said what color they were—until now. Warm brown with tiny flecks of gold. Her cheeks colored. They had tiny flecks too. Freckles. Sun kisses, his grandma used to call them.
    She broke eye contact first. “Can you sit up?”
    â€œYeah, I can sit,” he replied.
    She opened her legs and crooked her fingers, gesturing that he should position himself between them. He hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to put his ass that