She climbed onto the bed, straddled
him and settled her hips on his. The vision before him was electrifying, her
cute short hair, those fabulous grey-blue eyes, and that body that gave him an
instant hard-on.
“What’re you grinning at?” She
opened the bottle of massage oil.
“The view. I love the view. Of you.”
She bounced as he chuckled. “I could write that into a song.” He sang, “I’m so
in love with you. The view of you. Your gorgeous breasts. Breasts. Breasts. I’m
stuck on your breasts.”
“You silly.” She slapped his belly.
“I should hop off and go sleep in another room.”
He snapped his mouth closed, shook
his head, crossed his heart and held up his hand.
“Somehow, I doubt you were ever a
Boy Scout. Let’s see. Punishment for a bad boy.” She glanced around the room.
“Ah.” Jumping off the bed, Erika dashed to the closet, pulled a belt off one of
the bathrobes and returned.
Darien held out his wrists. “Oh,
yeah. Bad boy needs punishing.”
She loosely bound his wrists, tying
the other end to the bedpost. “Now, where was I?” She settled back down on his
hips, grabbed the bottle of oil, then popped the lid.
Erika grinned as she waved the
container. “Betcha thought I was going to rub this on you to ease out some of
the aches in your muscles. Well, you’d be wrong. I’m gonna make every muscle in
your body tense and scream for me.”
She tilted the bottle, pouring the
oil between her breasts. It dribbled down her belly and puddled in her belly
button. Using her middle finger, she stroked her oiled flesh from the top of
her chest to where the material covered what he desired. She wiped her finger
dry, stroking it across his nipples. They responded to her touch.
He sniffed. Cinnamon buns. The warm
fragrance from the bakery where he grew up tickled his nose.
Picking up the bottle, Erika poured
more liquid into her left hand, pressing it against her right breast. With her
palm, she circled her hand around, spreading the oil. She stroked under her
breast, up and around, drawing a spiral pattern closer and closer to her
nipple, then flicked her finger across the tight peak.
Darien’s eyes stung, reminding him
to blink. “You look so hot doing that.”
“Guess I’ll just have to repeat
everything on the other side.” She poured the scented massage oil into her
right hand and echoed what she’d done — rubbing, stroking, and flicking.
The oil’s fragrance wafted on the
air.
She wiggled her hips. The motion
made Darien grunt and flex every muscle. The heat of his sexual tension caused
a bead of sweat to form on his brow, even though he was stretched out naked on
the bed.
After oiling her hands, Erika slid
them under the lace and rubbed her nipples. She closed her eyes while rocking
her hips.
Darien struggled against the
restraining belt. The loose knot tightened. He froze. He wanted to touch her.
To lick the oil off her breasts. Being restrained was torture. He loved it.
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