They say average height is forgettable, but trust me, nobody forgets Ryder when I walk into a room. I’ve got a head full of long, dark brown hair that cascades past my shoulders, full lips that love to tease, and a lively, spunky personality that keeps everyone on their toes—especially him.
I am a woman who was practically built for luxury. I live to be pampered. Silk sheets, and someone catering to my every whim? Yes, please. But my absolute favorite kind of spoiling comes from the man who is completely, utterly obsessed with me. And I mean every single inch of me.
Especially my feet.
Let’s just call it what it is: he has a severe foot fetish, and quite frankly, it’s my favorite kink in the world.
It started innocently enough, but now it’s a full-blown devotion. Tonight, the spa is officially open, and he is the sole attendant. I’m lounging back on the plush velvet sofa, nursing a glass of red, while he kneels on the floor before me like a devoted worshipper at an altar.
He gently slides my heels off, his warm hands immediately wrapping around my arches. A soft sigh escapes my full lips as his thumbs dig deep into the knots of my soles. He groans softly, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of my foot before gently spreading my toes.
“God, Ryder, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs, his dark eyes looking up at me with pure, unadulterated adoration.
He loves every ritual. Next comes the polish. He carefully opens a bottle of deep, sultry crimson and meticulously paints my toes, his tongue caught between his teeth in intense concentration. I watch him, feeling a delicious, heavy warmth pooling low in my stomach. The spunky side of me wants to tease him, to kick him playfully in the chest, but the pampered princess in me just wants to surrender.
When the paint dries, the real worship begins. He leans in closer, inhaling deeply—because smelling and tasting is just as much a part of his obsession as touching. He kisses every single toe, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin of my arch, making a shiver violently race down my spine. He doesn’t just tolerate my body; he reveres it, licking and tasting me with a reverence that makes me feel like the most powerful, desired woman on earth.
He looks up, deeply, fully in love, and I reach down to tangle my fingers in his hair, guiding him closer. Pampering has never felt this deliciously wicked.