“No.” She bit off the terse monosyllable. Her thoughts whirled with unease. Why was he asking? He had never expressed interest before in her personal life. What had changed? She stared at him. He wasn’t looking back at her anymore, having turned his attention to the roaming of his hand. His fingers lightly traced the contours of her hipbone, and his palm skimmed the top of her stomach before caressing the length of her thigh. He trailed the back of his fingernails up on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Trails of warmth began to linger behind his light touch, but she tried to ignore it. I should go. She started to push herself up from the pillows onto her elbows.
She saw Michael’s mouth curl in another smile. His questing fingers dipped between her nether lips, and suddenly it didn’t matter what had made Michael question her. Her pulse leaped again but not with unease. She opened her legs wider for him. Finding her clit, he stroked her there then dipped his hand lower to slide into her wet warmth to find a peculiarly sensitive spot. Her body clenched on his slowly working fingers. She hissed in her breath, watching him play with her. The eroticism of it only heightened her ardor. She wasn’t the only one affected, she saw. His cock visibly thickened again. This was what she cared about, she thought through the swiftly rising haze of lust. Only this.
Michael sat up. Winter watched him through half-closed eyes as he swiftly replaced the used condom with a new one. Her breath quickened. She touched her tongue to her lips, wetting them.
Squatting on his heels, Michael hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled her beautiful rear up into his lap. Her pale body curved down the length of his thighs. Her shoulders rested on the mattress, her round breasts tilted up and pointed at the ceiling. He wedged himself between her silken thighs and with one hand fed himself slowly into her. Winter made that whispery, breathy noise that he had come to expect and want from her. God, he loved to hear her whimper.
When he was fully seated, his shaft was throbbing so hard it ached. He slid his arms under her shoulders and lifted her. His pulsing cock pushed deeper yet, the heated, damp sheath tightening round it, and he growled out pleasure. Her legs wrapped around his back, her ankles pressing into him above his buttocks. He smoothed one arm down her back to her waist and arched her spine. Winter braced her arms under her, flattening her hands on either side of his thighs on the mattress.
He dipped his head to take one of her ripe breasts into his mouth. Gently, he sucked and pulled on it, using his teeth and lips. She bucked against his belly, the crest of her other breast brushing his cheek. An indistinguishable sound hummed in her throat. He allowed the turgid nipple to pop out of his mouth. He blew on the wet tip, and she shuddered.
By now, he knew just what turned her on, just as he knew that she still pretended to be there, under him, with him, as a coerced participant. He didn’t pander much anymore to that illusion of hers, rarely catching hold of her wrists as he had in the beginning. He hadn’t tied her again, either. He wanted—no, craved—her to touch him out of her own volition. She did, once she was driven to orgasm, but only then. Now, today, Michael meant to break her lingering inhibition.
He shifted his hips, and the slight twist of motion made her catch her breath. He smiled down at her, at the lovely rosy flush under her pale skin. “Ah, Winter. I’m going to make you work for it this time.”
“What are you talking about? What do you mean?” She drew her chin up into her chest so that she could warily look up into his eyes.