Page 41 of Untether

‘Seriously?’ She lifts her head slightly, even though she’s still blindfolded.

‘Seriously. I’m hard as fuck touching this beautiful body of yours. But I’m dealing with it. So be a good girl, and be patient, and I’ll reward you. Okay?’

I take her frustrated groan as acquiescence and get to work, warming more oil before sliding my palms down her back. Her muscles are tense, but the skin covering them is pure silk. She’s fine-boned and slim, the arms I’ve already seen on display the feminine kind of toned that a conscientious gym or yoga routine creates.

‘You are beautiful,’ I tell her, my hands doing lazy laps of her body. ‘Just beautiful.’ I spend a few minutes working on her shoulders and upper back, because they really do feel stiff. Then I let myself have a bit more fun. I bend right over her body, my hands digging under the towel to grab that arse again, fingers grazing her crack before I drag them back upwards along her sides. I push them under her body so I can cup her tits, and she lets out a surprised, happy gasp that goes straight to my dick.

‘Fuck,’ I say, finding her nipples and rolling them around as best I can with barely any space. ‘I want to play with these properly. What do you say you turn over and we lose the towel so I can make you feel good?’

‘God, yes,’ she gasps.

‘That’s my girl. Keep the mask on.’

I have the towel on the floor with a single tug, and then she’s fully, gloriously naked in front of me. I get a fleeting glimpse of the perfect violin shape of her arse and hips and waist before she’s flipping over onto her back, dark hairfalling over her face and sleep mask as she does, and holyfuck.

‘Oh, yeah,’ I growl, raking my fingers through her hair to get it off her face. ‘You are fuckingperfect.’

She really is. Jesus Christ. The way she’s been carrying on about her age, you’d think she was wrinkled and decrepit. She’s a fucking smoke show. I can’t wait to see her tits when she’s upright, but they’re perfect and plump with taut, dark pink nipples. Her stomach is flat, smooth, and the landing strip of dark hair has my name on it. I can’t wait to slide my fingers and tongue into her wet heat, but it’ll have to wait.

First, I bend and cup her upside-down face. ‘You’re so sexy,’ I say. ‘Gimme your hand.’

She raises one arm over her head and I pull it backwards to cup my very hard, very angry cock.

‘Feel that?’

‘Fuck,’ she says. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. That’s what you do to me. Now, you lie here like a good girl while I enjoy you. Got it?’

‘Yes,’ she says, back arching involuntarily.

‘Good,’ I repeat, my gaze sweeping over her body. I love having my women blindfolded. Love the control it gives me, love the dampener it puts on their insecurities, the way it dials down their self-consciousness and dials up their anticipation. Right now, the famous, dazzling Aida Russell is naked and blindfolded and fucking dying for my touch, andJesus, the things I could do to her—

Dirty-lite, I remind myself sternly.Get a grip, you horny fucker.

She’s laid out like a feast, and I barely know where to begin. But this isn’t about me, it’s about her, so I begin where I think she’d like it. I keep her jaw cupped and lean down tokiss her, tugging at her plump lower lip with my teeth when she opens her mouth. I release it, gripping her face harder as I invade her mouth with my tongue, and fuck, it feels so carnal having her spread out like this for me.

I enjoy her mouth for a few more seconds before releasing her jaw and straightening up. ‘Don’t move,’ I warn her as I tip more oil into my hand and warm it up. Then I’m back at the head of the table, sliding my palms over her soft tits and hard, needy nipples and all the way down to her stomach before I drag them back up.

The sound she makes when I brush over her nipples is a thing of great wonder. Her lips part involuntarily, and I admire the pretty way she arches her back, needing more of my touch.

‘Aren’t you responsive,’ I mutter. ‘More?’

‘Yes.’It’s a prayer.

‘I’m here to serve,’ I tell her, and I make another lavish sweep of her torso. Fuck me, I could do this all day. This time, I linger on her tits on my way back up, kneading them and weighing them, flicking those little nipples of hers till she’s wriggling on the bed and inhaling sharply.

‘That feel good?’ I ask, my extreme arousal making my tone more brusque than I intended.

‘Yes—don’t stop,’ she begs.

‘You need more?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where?’

She hesitates, though her body is still moving. Writhing. Chasing sensation.

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