Chapter Twenty
Marama
I pick up the other scarf and bring it up to his face. “I’m going to blindfold you,” I tell him. “I want you to concentrate on your other senses. Okay?”
He’s breathing fast. But he nods, so I tie the scarf around his head and tighten it until it rests lightly over his eyes.
Then I kiss him again, longer this time, teasing his lips with my teeth, delving my tongue into his mouth. Out of the corner of my eye I see him flex his hands in the ties. I think he’s finding it difficult to lie there and do nothing.
But he stays still, and doesn’t try to escape. He sighs, his breath whispering over my lips, and I can feel him trying to relax, while we continue to exchange sensual, deep kisses.
Stretching out beside him, still kissing him, I begin trailing my fingers over his body, light touches that bring goose bumps out on his skin.
Lifting my head, I look at his firm, strong body, enjoying exploring him. He’s acting calm, although he’s still breathing faster than usual. It’s obvious that he feels vulnerable, lying with his hands tied, exposed to my gaze and touch.
This is obviously the first time he’s ever done this with someone.
I can’t imagine Eleanor being interested in doing anything like this.
He would never criticize her, because in his mind that’s not what a gentleman does, but he’s dropped enough hints to suggest his relationship with her was very vanilla.
From what I’ve read on Reddit and other forums, few men are truly vanilla, unless maybe they’re very religious; they usually enjoy experimenting, and it’s the main reason many of them stray—when they meet someone more open and adventurous than their wife.
I can tell this is turning him on—that much is obvious. I think he loves feeling wanted and desired. But will he be able to fight his instincts to take charge? Will he give all of himself to me?
I kiss him for a long time, still stroking his body, eventually moving from his lips to press kisses over his face—his nose, forehead, and jaw, which is just starting to show a five o’clock shadow.
I kiss around to his ears, which I nibble and lick.
Then I begin kissing down his neck, stopping to touch my tongue to his Adam’s apple and the hollow at the base of his throat.
I love how different he is to me. How masculine and manly.
Mmm, I’m starting to get hot and bothered. Time to step up the action.
Sitting back, I unclip my bra and slide the straps down my arms, then lean over him so I can kiss his arms and hands.
My breasts are now level with his head, and I move one of my nipples to his mouth and tease his lips with the soft tip.
Obediently, he opens his mouth, and I feed him my nipple, moaning softly when he sucks it and flicks the end with his tongue.
Heat building inside me, I swap to the other one, still kissing his arms and hands.
He shivers as I touch my tongue to his palms and suck each of his fingers in turn.
When I move back and shift down the bed, he gives a heavy sigh of disappointment, but he still doesn’t move. Hiding a smile, I kiss down his arms, enjoying the swell of his glorious biceps. When I reach his underarms, I nuzzle there and inhale.
He frowns and growls, “Don’t do that.”
I lift my head to look at him. “Who’s in charge here?”
He sets his jaw, so I know he’s glowering, and I stifle a laugh before moving to the other arm and doing the same. He smells of shower gel and anti-perspirant and healthy male, a mixture that is very erotic to me.
He blows out a breath and shifts a little on the bed, then groans as I kiss each of his nipples and swirl my tongue over them.
I carry on down, pressing my lips to each rib, and eventually following the happy trail of hair that leads down to his groin.
He doesn’t have a six-pack exactly, but he’s nicely toned and obviously takes care of his body.
Shifting down, I pause as I reach his erection and study it with interest. It swells under my gaze and glistens. My mouth watering, I bend my head and brush my tongue across the tip, licking up the moisture that’s already gathered there.
After that brief tease, I move back and continue kissing the rest of him. His flat stomach. His hips. His firm thighs, and down each leg.
He groans, and I giggle. “What’s the matter, Spencer?” I taunt, kissing down his shins to his feet. “Tell me you don’t like what I’m doing to you.”
He doesn’t reply, and I know it’s because if he said the words, it would be a lie.
I lift each leg and kiss each foot in turn, pressing my lips to his insteps. His feet are attractive; clean and soft with nice, neat nails, and I poke my tongue between his toes.
“Argh.” He squirms on the bed and tries to move his feet away.
I chuckle. “Does it tickle?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
His chest rises and falls quickly. “It makes me feel uncomfortable.”
It’s a strange word to pick. “Why?” I kiss his big toe. “You have nice feet.”
His forehead creases above the blindfold. “I didn’t realize you were so kinky.”
“Kinky?” Now I’m the one who’s baffled. “I’m just kissing your feet. That’s not kinky.”
“I think my view of what’s normal in the bedroom is a lot less risqué than everyone else’s. Everything except straight sex is kinky to me.”
“Seriously?”
“Not every woman is as open as you,” he says. “Some women don’t even touch themselves.”
He means Eleanor, of course. He’s implying she didn’t masturbate. I’ve read that there are people who don’t do it, but I wasn’t sure if it was true.
“Shit,” I say, “how come she didn’t explode?”
That makes him laugh. “You’re amazing,” he says.
“I’m just normal,” I correct. “I’m hardly accomplished where sex is concerned.
” I’ve only had a handful of partners, and none of them were experts in the bedroom.
Connor was a bit more experienced, but he was also very controlling, and would never let me take charge like this, and I was limited to what he’d let me do.
“You’re sex positive,” he replies, his voice husky. “That goes a long way.”
I’m genuinely shocked that a man could get to his age and not be more sexually experienced. It says something about his loyalty that he stayed married to her.
Well, now I’m even more determined to blow his mind and show him that a man’s pleasure is as important as a woman’s.
I kiss back up his thighs and move between them, then lower a hand between my legs and stroke myself.
Mmm… I’m more than ready for him, swollen and wet.
“I’m touching myself,” I tell him, closing my eyes and enjoying the feeling of my finger circling over my clit.
“Oh,” he says. “I’d like to watch you.”
“Later.” Opening my eyes, I lift my fingers up to his mouth. I brush them across his lips, then lean over him and kiss him, and our tongues tangle, both of us tasting me, and he gives a long, deep groan.
I do that a few times, and when I finally move back, he’s rock hard.
I open the tube, squeeze some lube onto my fingers, and stroke his erection so it’s completely coated and my fingers glide easily over his skin. He’s long and thick, and I explore him with my fingers, from his balls up to the swollen head. “Mmm… you are such an impressive man.”
“Ah… please…” He bites his bottom lip as the word tumbled out without his permission.
But I just smirk and say, “No mercy,” echoing his instruction to me the last time we had sex.
He sighs. “Fair enough.”
“You want me to stop, Spencer?”
He tilts his hips up a little, swelling in my hand as I continue to stroke him. “No,” he whispers.
I feel a surge of pleasure. I haven’t taken this power from him. He’s choosing to give it to me. This is what I wanted.
I move between his legs. Then I start kissing him while I stroke him.
I kiss around him—his hips, thighs, and stomach, and the base of his cock, then press my lips all the way up his shaft to the head before brushing my tongue over the tip.
He groans, so I do it again, then slide my lips down the shaft and take him deep in my mouth.
The lube is lightly cherry flavored, and I murmur my approval as it mixes with the gorgeous taste of him.
“Ahhh,” he says with a sigh, “that feels good…”
My mouth is full so I can’t reply, but I continue to stroke and suck him, feeling him push his hips up to match my rhythm. Mmm, I don’t think he’s that far from coming.
I lift my head, and lower my hand.
He groans and flops back on the pillow.
“Don’t worry,” I tease. “I’m going to take you all the way.
But I want to try something I’ve never done.
” I don’t want to do it without his consent, because I know some men are averse to the idea, and somehow I have a feeling he’s not experienced it before.
“I’ve read that stimulating the prostate is supposed to feel really good for the guy,” I say a little shyly.
“Will you let me try? I haven’t done it before.
But I won’t do it unless you want me to. ”
He goes still. I think I’ve shocked him. “Ah…” He looks uncertain.
“Do you trust me?” I ask again. “I just want to make you feel good.”
He swallows. Then he nods.
Feeling a swell of excitement, desperate to give him pleasure, I reach for the lube and squeeze a generous amount onto my fingers. Kneeling between his legs, I push them wide until he’s completely open to me, vulnerable and exposed.
He’s breathing fast, and his body is tense. I smooth the lube all the way down with my right hand, then caress his balls for a while as I continue to stroke his cock with my left. Only then do I slide my hand further down and gently tease him there with a finger.
“Fuck,” he says.
“Color?” I ask sweetly.
“Ahhh…” He groans. “Yellow.”
I stop, and just stroke the area south of his balls, letting him get used to the sensation. I can feel how tense he is. But he’s also still hard, and he hasn’t loosened the ties. He likes it. He just needs time.