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Ginny was already lying face-down on the massage bed, nude except for her thin thong and the scent of lavender filling her nose, when the masseuse entered.
“Hello. My name is Blaise Zabini and I will be your masseuse today. Am I correct in saying this is not your first massage with us?” came a deep, cultured, male voice from behind her.
Confused, Ginny sat up, crossing her arms over her bare chest.
“Where’s Lena? I always book with her?” she questioned. She had been having the same monthly appointment with her masseuse for six years now, her whole Quidditch career, and she hadn’t been informed of any changes in that plan.
“Lena is unfortunately ill. I can assure you that I am just as capable at giving her athletic massages though Miss Weasley,” Zabini’s smooth response matched his unruffled demeanour.
It had been years since Ginny had last seen Blaise Zabini, since their Hogwarts days, so she took the opportunity to take in his appearance. He had somehow managed to grow even more beautiful, something she wouldn’t have thought possible as a teenager, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. He also looked perfectly professional in his dark slacks and crisp white shirt.
“If you’ll just turn over…” he continued leadingly, seemingly unaffected by Ginny’s admittedly beautiful physique or her distrustful questioning.
She obeyed, lying back down as she heard the drizzle of oil being spread across Zabini’s fingers.
Ginny may have never seen Zabini at the parlour before but he certainly knew what he was doing. As his strong hands worked her shoulders and neck, she felt herself loosen and relax into a deep haze.
The only sounds in the room were Ginny’s soft pants and Zabini’s smooth, large hands moving against her back and arms as Ginny fully relaxed into the session. Her head felt pleasantly fuzzy as he kneaded her lower back, her mind quietened by the feeling of her muscles growing loose and warm.
“May I take these off?” Ginny was startled out of her reverie by Zabini’s deep timbre as he hooked a finger under her knickers.
“Why?” she returned, drowsy and head still on the table.
To be honest, Ginny didn't really care whether she was wearing underwear or not: the thong she was wearing was as good as being naked, and playing quidditch stripped any modesty a person may have had quite quickly. Still, she had been having massages once a month for six years now, and nobody had ever asked to take off her underwear.
“So I can access all the muscles,” Zabini replied smoothly, as though he had answered the question a million times.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Ginny decided, too lulled into her serene state to question any further.
She lifted her hips, allowing Zabini to roll the thin scrap of lace off her, before promptly closing her eyes and returning to her relaxation.
Zabini began working on her glutes, tight and stiff from hours spent on a broomstick everyday, rubbing firm circles with his thumbs. His strong hands squeezed her arse cheeks, and she felt her thighs spread inadvertently at the mixture of pain and pleasure.
Heat pooled in her stomach as he moved to her legs, stroking her sensitive inner thighs with such dedicated attention that left heat pooling in her stomach.
Ginny gasped as she felt fingers brush her throbbing sex, before returning back to her inner thighs. It was so feather-light, almost like a breath of air, but it left her growing wet with arousal. Zabini made no sound to suggest anything out of the ordinary, continuing to knead her muscles with the same attention and focus as before. She must have imagined it.
Merlin, she really needed a lay if she was imagining things while getting a massage.
She had just about convinced herself of that, relaxing her neck again, and scolding her own hyperactive imagination when she felt it happen again. This time, two slippery fingers brushed her now-pulsing clit and dipped into her wet cunt, before returning to her thighs again.
It continued like this for a few moments, hands switching between caressing her thighs and stroking along her now-dripping folds.
Ginny drew a breath to question Zabini - this clearly wasn't an accident - when, without warning, two digits breached her entrance. It was a good thing she had been having a massage for the past hour, because if her muscles were any less relaxed she wouldn’t have been able to take his long, girthy fingers.
“What the fuck, Zabini?” she exclaimed, looking over her shoulder to question the man.
She paused.
Whereas before, Zabini had looked all buttoned-up and composed, now he looked disheveled and wanton, with his trousers pulled down and his erection pulled out of the waistband. And his cock… saliva pooled in her mouth at the sight of his beautiful length: uncut and hard and long and dripping and flushed so much it looked almost painful.
Ginny forced herself to look at Zabini’s face, ignoring his glorious dick. He looked just as collected as ever, as though he wasn't fingering her instead of rubbing her thighs.
“I’m very dedicated to ensuring all of your muscles are relaxed,” his voice gave the only sign that he wasn’t as unruffled as he portrayed, a rougher hitch divulging his need.
“All of your muscles…” he repeated, marking each word with a curl of his fingers, brushing Ginny’s most sensitive spot inside her each time. She was unable to control the pleasured moans that escaped her, and decided to let Zabini continue on as he planned. It wasn’t like she wasn’t enjoying it.
She placed her head back down again, focusing on the fingers pumping in and out of her. She let out a helpless cry when they were removed, leaving her hole gaping and wanting.
Hands pushed her knees under her until she was almost bent in half, arse pushed upwards and pussy completely on display. She was sure that she was making a mess on the massage table: a mixture of oil and her slick dripping and collecting beneath her.
Slowly, so slowly she felt tears build up behind her eyes, Zabini pressed the head of his cock into her, before pausing altogether again. Ginny had to take deep breaths, hands scrabbling at the sheet beneath her, as her body rearranged itself around Blaise’s thick cock. He had only put the tip in and she felt as though all the breath had been pushed out of her, leaving only room for his massive dick.
It was only once her heavy breaths had subsided, her body getting used to the stretch, that Zabini pushed the rest in, burying himself to the hilt. Without a word of warning, he began to move, pounding into her with his thick, hard cock. Her needy mewls grew louder as Zabini slammed into her, her whole body shaking with the strength of each measured thrust.
“Faster, fuck, faster, please,” she begged, her voice muffled by her drool and the table she was pressed into. Zabini paid no attention to her desperate pleas, fucking harder into her pussy at the same painfully slow intervals.
Gradually, she began to feel her walls clenching around him as her waves of pleasure grew. Zabini moved one of his hands from her hips - where they had been squeezing so hard it would certainly leave a bruise - to her clit. Her cunt spasmed quicker and quicker as he circled her clit, the enlarged nub throbbing harder each time. He switched to squeezing the desperate bud, leaving Ginny writhing on the table, choked groans forced out of her.
Finally, she felt herself peak, back arching and stars exploding over her vision, as she collapsed onto her front. It only took moments for Blaise to follow her, thrusting into her now puffy and used pussy before she felt his warm seed filling her.
As soon as he pulled his dick out of her, she rolled onto her back, watching Blaise clean himself with a wave of Ginny’s wand before tucking his cock back into his boxers and doing his trousers up again. Looking every inch the consummate professional she had spoken to an hour ago, he winked and tucked her thong into his pocket.
“See you at home, Ginny,” he called over his shoulder, before slipping out of the room.
“Blaise!” she cried out, her giggles tampering the frustrated tone. Fuck, how was she going to get home without her wand or her knickers?