Sera was on the table. Face down. Naked. Her body was long. Lean. The muscles of her back were visible—the latissimus, the trapezius, the rhomboids. Her spine was a valley between two ridges of muscle. Her ass was round. Firm. The cheeks were tight from years of training. Her legs were long. The thighs were thick. The calves were defined. Her feet were bare—the soles calloused, the toes curling against the sheet.
Old Tomas reached out.
His hands found her back.
He began.
His fingers pressed into the trapezius—the large muscle that connected the neck to the shoulder. He pressed with his thumbs. He rolled the muscle. He found the knot—the one that formed from sword practice, from the repetitive motion of swinging a blade. He pressed into it. He held.
"Mmm..." Sera moaned. The sound was soft. Involuntary. The sound of a body releasing tension that it has been holding for too long. "Hahh..."
