She was wet, and his fingers stroked slickly in and out, finally curling against her G-spot. She gave a cry, jerking her hips again and again.
Winter panted. Her hands fisted in the knotted tie. She was being expertly seduced. Even through the sexual haze suffusing her, she knew it. Michael knew just how to touch her, to inflame her. She still had on her bikini bottoms. It wouldn’t take much for him to rid her of them. A sharp tug—Winter whimpered. Long curved fingers twisted in and out of her moist tightening channel while the thumb strummed her clitoris. The flash-fire combusted through her body. “Michael! Michael!”
Swirling passion spiked disjointed, jumbled thoughts. She shouldn’t want—want so badly. She would go mad soon. She tugged against the binding, but it held. Yes, good—ashamed rutted like animals. Hot waves crashed over her, frying her mind. Her body shook and convulsed. From a long ways, she heard him mutter a sharp exclamation. His hands pushed behind her, cradling her head and shoulders. Still blind, she breathed in his musky scent, pungent with suntan lotion and sweat. She sobbed before she caught her breath.
His hands slipped away, and his body eased out from between her slack legs. The air was unpleasantly cool without the nearness of his heat. “Michael?” She sensed him moving. Then his fingers worked the knots at her wrists and the neck tie was pulled away.
Winter slowly straightened, her lethargic limbs limp and reluctant. She reached up to take off the blindfold, but his hand stopped her. His voice was husky, roughened. “No, leave it. It’s your turn now. I’ll sit on the chair. You massage me.” His hands closed on either side of her waist, and he lifted her easily to her feet. Winter stood uncertainly where he had placed her. She couldn’t see anything from behind the dense folds of the blindfold. She felt the brush of his body as he pressed by her. The chair creaked under his weight.
“Do it just like I did for you, Winter.” He took her wrist and turned over her hand. She felt cool lotion pooling in her palm. “Except you have to do it by touch. Just let me know when you want more suntan lotion.”
She curled her mouth in a smile. She was at once intrigued. She rubbed the greasy lotion between her palms to coat them. “Bend over, Michael.”
“Whatever you say.”
Winter reached out tentatively, searching for him. Her hands found the long warm slope of his back. She shifted closer so that she could better reach the taut planes and ridges. It was strangely exciting not to be able to see what she touched. She took her time, learning him. She felt his back rise and fall with his breath, heard him sigh deeply. Resting one hand on his back, she stretched the other over his broad shoulder. “More lotion.”
Thick cool liquid squirted into her hand. Carefully, she greased both hands and went to work on his well-built shoulders until the lotion was absorbed into the warmth of his solid flesh.
Winter stepped to the side, sliding her hand along one of his shoulders as a reference. “Okay, lean back, and I’ll do your chest. Give me some more lotion.” He obeyed. As she leaned in, she felt his palm come up to cup one of her bare breasts. She swatted his hand away. “Uh-uh. You have to keep your hands down. Fair’s fair. Hold onto the chair.”
“Well, damn.” He sounded both surprised and aggrieved, and she laughed.
Winter discovered that it was difficult to reach all of his chest leaning in from the side. She stepped over his thigh, one leg at a time, holding onto his shoulder for balance. Satisfied, she bent forward and continued the massage of his chest, over the hard, flat disks with puckered nipples, her sensitive finger pads brushing over wiry hairs before sweeping down the ridges of his abs. His skin quivered under her fingertips. His whole upper body was rigid. His chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths. “Relax, Michael.”