His Sugar Baby(30)

She shook herself free of the fresh wash of despair. She couldn’t afford to sink into panic, not now. She had to be strong and keep her mind clear so she could figure out what options were left to Chloe. Whatever Michael had planned would help distract her, she thought.

Her ears suddenly caught something, like a deeply in-drawn breath. Winter listened intently, but she heard nothing after that single sharp inhalation. Then all of a sudden he was there, behind her. She could hear his slow, steady breathing and feel the heat radiating from his body. He blew on the back of her neck, causing the tiny hairs at her nape to stand up. She involuntarily shivered.

“Bend forward, Winter.” His voice was quiet but authoritative. She realized he wasn’t making a request. She felt suddenly breathless. Slowly, she reclined forward over her knees. She felt his agile fingers unknotting the ties of her bikini at her neck and across her back. Her top fell slackly to her thighs, the ties dangling toward the floor on either side of her legs. Then his hands, slippery with cream, returned to her skin. She smelled the unmistakable odor of suntan lotion. His strong hands kneaded her neck and shoulders, glided down her spine and back up. She moaned with pleasure. “Oh, yes. That feels so good.”

“I thought you’d like it.” He continued to massage her back with slippery palms. Then his fingers feathered along the delicate beading of her vertebrae. “Your skin is like silk. You’re beautiful.” She heard the roughened edge in his voice, and she shivered, her belly clenching with a flash of want. She sank farther forward, resting her torso on top of her thighs. As his hands swept up her back toward her neck, she felt him bump against the chair back. He grunted and gave a short laugh. “I just realized. This is going to be torture for me.

“Why’s that?” she asked curiously, dragging her mind away from the sultry feelings that his touch was arousing in her.

“Let’s just say that every time I bend over too far I’m bumping wood.” She felt the chair vibrate again. “Shit! It’s like a small detonation going off in my head!”

Winter realized what danger the wooden back of the chair would mean to the blunt head of an engorged shaft. “Oh!” She put her fingers over her mouth and tried to muffle her laughter.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny.” Michael’s voice was a mock-grumble. His hands lifted from her back. “I’ll get some more lotion.” Within seconds his warm wet palms returned to her torso.

Under Michael’s caressing hands, Winter relaxed completely, feeling the tight kinks loosening in her muscles. Behind the blindfold, her eyes drifted shut. “You’ve found your calling, Michael.”

His voice rumbled huskily over her drooping head. “Lean back. I’ll do your front.”

Winter straightened with a sigh and leaned back against the chair. She tossed aside her bikini top with a careless flick of her fingers. Suddenly, her wrists were shackled by his hands and held behind the chair. Something long and silky was swiftly knotted around her wrists. Behind the folds of silk, Winter’s eyes snapped open, but she was blind. Fear feathered through her. Her heart pounded. She pulled against the binding. “Michael? This isn’t funny.”

“It’s just my neck tie, Winter. Don’t worry.”

Winter felt his slippery hands soothing her stiffened shoulders, her upper arms, smoothing her tensed muscles with long strokes. The pungent scent of the suntan lotion filled her nostrils. She felt the warmth of his bare chest and the rasp of roughened hairs against her shoulder as he bent over her. His hands moved to her fluttering ribcage and the soft underswell of her breasts. He cupped her breasts, lightly squeezing. She bit back a moan. He blew a soft caress of air on each moistened nipple, pebbling them. She quivered with the eroticism, all the more enhanced because she couldn’t see or anticipate what he was going to do.

“You like me to play with your breasts, don’t you, Winter?” A thumb and forefinger pinched and rolled one nipple, then plucked it.

She gasped, a frisson of fire shooting straight to her belly. “You’re torturing me, you jerk, and you’re enjoying it!”

She heard him laugh. He palmed her soft mounds, squeezing and pinching some more. Electricity bolted like sheet lightning to her clit, warming her *. Winter squirmed, helpless in her bonds, arching with the play of his clever fingers. Her lips parted on a pleasured groan. His hot breath fanned her neck, and then his teeth nipped her tender shoulder. She jerked with a startled cry. The tiny wound throbbed. Again, he laughed low in her ear. After a few more minutes of teasing play, his hands left her tingling, swollen breasts.

Pent-up excitement heightened her senses. Her heart was beating fast but no longer with fear. She heard the bottle squirt and wondered where he would touch her next. Michael surprised her. He massaged each of her feet, pressing his thumb in short strokes along her insteps. Oh, God! Winter threw back her head and groaned. It was sheer heaven.

Gently, he pushed her thighs apart, and she felt him kneel between her legs. He was breathing heavily, his warm breath wafting across her skin. His coated palms worked up each smooth calve to her thighs. Resting his large hands on the top of her legs, his thumbs caressed high up on her sensitive inner thighs. She felt her body quiver in response. A forefinger was drawn slowly down the crotch of her damp bikini bottoms. She arched away from the chair back, her breasts lifting. Her legs parted wider. He grunted, his hot breath huffing on her naked belly. He stroked her again. Then his fingers slid under the thin strip of fabric and began to work erotic magic.