Page 88 of The Bodyguard Affair
She runs a hand over the underside of my forearm. “I know it’s hard. But you guys are a hundred percent doing the right thing. Your mom knows it, too. When you were in Montreal, she was telling me about all the field trips and activities they do at Lakeside. She’s such a social butterfly, I think she’ll love it there.”
I squeeze her hand, grateful for the reminder. Grateful to be here with her.
“Can you do my backside?” Andi asks. When she turns to get set up on the chaise, the small width of fabric barely covers her perfectly round ass.
Jesus Christ. If I die right now, at least I’ll die happy.
Before I succumb to death, a couple things happen. First, I fling my hand back to stabilize myself on the balcony railing. Then, I mumble something in the affirmative, trying to ignore the slight jiggle of her backside as she flips around on the chaise. Who am I kidding? This image is now permanently imprinted on my brain. I will never be the same.
Like a complete Neanderthal, I forget my name, where we are, what I’m supposed to be doing, until she gives me a look over her shoulder, her eyes darting to the oil.
I set myself on the side of the chair and pour the oil on her back. I start with small circles at the nape of her neck, slowly skating down her shoulders. The tips of my fingers tingle; I’m desperate to explore every surface of her body.
I make my way down, over the backs of her thighs and up. The only place I haven’t done is her ass, but I don’t want to presume anything. Her breath quickens as my fingers dance dangerously close.
As if she can sense my hesitancy, she says, “Make sure you get everywhere.”
Chapter 38
Andi
Nolan is trying to kill me. There’s no other explanation for the way he’s teasing me. I’ve given him outright permission to touch my ass. I want him all over me. I want him to brand me. But he’s taking his sweet time. By the way his breath is ragged against my back with each touch, I can tell he wants this as much as I do.
I didn’t know how much I needed this until now. My whole body ignites in tiny explosions, lighting up every nerve in my body as his fingers move down my back, his thumbs skimming over the sides of my breasts.
As he runs his fingers south, I arch my back and he seems to get the hint. His fingers move down, molding over my bottom. He spends an obscene amount of time there, like he’s giving each cheek special attention. Every so often, he slips his thumb under the small strip of material, applying the softest amount of pressure where I never knew I wanted it.
“Is this okay?” he whispers, moving down, gliding the tips of his fingers over my center under the fabric.
“Yes,” I manage, parting my legs slightly to give him access.
He shifts the material over completely, and his thumb fully slides over my seam. I let out an embarrassingly loud moan, which disappears into the hot, open air.
“Goddamnit,” he hisses, running his thumb back up over my slit, stroking me through the oil, still managing to dodge my clit. I’m absolutely throbbing now, pushing back for more pressure.
“Does that feel good?”
“Yes. Please keep going,” I grit out, melting into him.
The wet noises should be illegal as he slides his index finger and thumb up and down my slit. My vision turns spotty when he finally grazes me where I need it.
“You are going to be the end of me.” His voice alone threatens to detonate me. Just as the pressure begins to mount, a voice from the pathway reaches us. It’s another couple, walking hand in hand toward a pair of chaises below on the beach.
Panicked, I push up, until Nolan shushes me and pushes me back down. He tosses a towel over my lower half. I stay silent for a few breaths as he continues touching me under the towel, completely discreet.
There’s something about the risk of getting caught that riles me even tighter.
He gently presses his finger to my entrance, teasing me. “You want me inside you? Ask for it.”
“Please,” I whisper.
One finger slides in, hooking inside me in a way that makes me jolt, makes me desperate for more fullness, more friction.
He follows it up with a second finger, filling me completelyin a perfect rhythm. It’s like a spark catching fire, lighting me up from the inside out. “Holy shit. You’re so tight. I can feel every pulse.”
His touch renders me completely mindless, to the point where my body has completely taken over. I naturally arch for him, propping myself on all fours, utterly begging for more as the pressure builds.
He eases his fingers in and out, teasing, torturing me, burying them in me in a way I’m positive only he knows how. I squeeze and push back against his fingers until the flames dance and twist their way through all the forgotten parts of me. Until I can’t keep still. Until I’m gripping the sides of the chaise so hard, my knuckles are white. Until I’m cursing and mumbling incoherent nonsense under my breath. “Oh fuck, Nolan.”
