Page 40 of Untether

In fact, I’m starting to realise that he’s edging me in the most effective way. He’s giving me just enough to build thedesire in my body. To build the suggestion in my mind that I want more. Themorewon’t come from him—it’ll come from me.

Clever guy.

He’s playing me like an instrument.

With that in mind, I shift a little on the bed, emboldened to nudge my legs farther apart. A moment later, he folds the towel back further, exposing one butt cheek before sliding his hand over it. The move is decisive, almost proprietorial, and I shiver inwardly.

‘So fucking gorgeous,’ he murmurs softly, and then his hands knead. They knead my butt, my thigh, my calf, my foot, until my entire left side is a mass of sensation. He squeezes the very top of my thigh, his fingers digging into my inner thigh near to where I’m starting to crave them. They’re so close. This massage was the best idea ever. To know that he’ll work me up, wind me higher, until those magic fingers of his are sliding between my legs, sliding inside my body just how I need them? It’s sublime.

I allow myself to arch into his touch, my ass lifting slightly into the air. His pace is still as slow as when he started out, but the strokes are rougher. Deeper. His hands are higher, fingers growing closer to my pussy.

‘Feels good, does it?’ he asks through what sounds like gritted teeth.

‘So good,’ I hiss.

‘Glad to hear it,’ he says softly.

Then his hands leave my skin and the towel comes down to cover it.

What the actual fuck?

26

CAL

We haven’t even got to thedirty-litebit, and I can already tell I’ve warmed this beautiful creature up as much on the inside as I have on the outside. Her skin is supple, soft, and these famous legs of hers feel even better than they look. Toned and shapely. I bet they could hold on tight if she wrapped them around my waist.

As I cover her leg with the towel and smooth my hands over it, I allow myself to enjoy the sharp stab of pleasure that hits me at knowing I’m affecting her. My—so far, relatively innocent—touch is arousing her. I’ll have her writhing on this massage table before too long, but right now I’m content just to know she feels amazing.

I uncover her other leg and proceed to repeat my actions: warming the unctuous oil between my hands, placing my palms on her skin and oiling it up, working my fingers into those tight muscles in her calves, rolling my thumbs back and forth over the arch of her foot.

This time, there’s no surprised hitch in her breath when I bare her gorgeous arse cheek to me.

This time, I allow my fingertips to graze further around, till they’re at the very top of her inner thigh.

I drag my thumb along the crease of her arse.

I knead that toned cheek just a little harder than the other one.

And I even permit myself to bend and press a kiss right in the middle of it as my fingertips trail so lightly along her inner thigh that I know it must tickle.

She lets out a surprised little moan at the kiss, and I smile to myself. ‘Delicious,’ I mutter against her skin. And she is. It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to sink my teeth into it.

All in good time.

I straighten up, my rock-hard cock complaining silently to me, and dutifully fold the towel back down to cover her leg. This time, when I run my hands up both towel-covered legs, I allow my thumbs to press right in between her thighs. Right where that fleeting pressure of terry towelling must feel the most torturous. Sure enough, the moan she makes this time is a little more frustrated.

‘Is my warmup working?’ I enquire idly as I circle the bed, coming to stand at its head.

‘You know it is.’ Her response is muffled, but her tone is clear.

She’s getting pissed off.

‘Good.’ I lean forward and fold the towel away from me so it exposes her entire back, right to the curve of her ass. Fuck, her back is beautiful. Flawless skin, bronzed to perfection aside from a sweet little white bikini strap mark. I trail a fingertip across it. ‘No topless sunbathing for you this summer, sweetheart?’

‘I may be Italian, but I’m way too anglicised for that,’ she says drily. ‘My sons would’ve killed me.’

‘Shame,’ I say. ‘You’re not the only one who’s turned on, you know.’

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