Page 128 of The Wrong Husband

It’s her turn to go quiet. "You went undercover as a masseuse?" She clears her throat.

"I did. Being good at giving a massage is a useful skill in impressing women, as it turns out."

"Hmph. You had a lot of women to impress in your undercover assignments, huh?"

I allow myself a small chuckle. "You sound jealous."

"I’m not."

"If you insist."

"Are you allowed to tell me all this?" She scowls.

"All what?"

"About your assignments."

"I’m not giving away anything."

"Well, I don’t want to know any details, especially of how you impressed women," she says in an irritated voice.

"Definitely jealous." I knead the muscles of her shoulders, and she makes a whimpering sound. My already alert cock does an imitation of being a loaded gun ready to go off. I reach down to adjust myself, then continue to work gentle pressure down the length of her spine. I reach the small of her back and trace the flare of her hips with rhythmic strokes. She shifts restlessly. "Umm, I think that’s enough."

"Am I turning you on?"

She blows out a breath. "You know you are. Just like you’re also getting turned on."

"Touching you is the most erotic, most satisfying experience of my life. Smoothing the stress from your body is more gratifying than any assignment I've undertaken."

She cracks her eyes open and stares at me over her shoulder. "You mean it." She sounds surprised.

I hold her gaze. "I have never told you something I didn’t mean, and I never will."

Her lips part. Her eyes shine. She turns over. Her bare breasts are revealed to me. Perfectly crafted. Just right to fill my big palms to overflowing. Her pink areolae are puckered tightly, begging for my mouth. My teeth. To bite down into the nipples topping them like buds made of candy.

Without breaking the connection, I lower my chin and close my lips around one of them. I tug on it, and she whimpers. She throws her arms over her head, pushing them further intomy mouth, while arching her spine. I nip and suck and curl my tongue around her nipple, biting into it, then licking away the hurt. She squeezes her thighs together and writhes around, raising her hips until her core brushes against the column in my swim shorts.

"No cheating." I press my hand into the center of her chest, holding her down, which only makes her squirm further.

"Connor," she protests.

“Hold still.” I grab her bathing suit top.

I tie it around her wrists, then anchor it to the horizontal bar just behind the headrest—at the top of the sun lounger’s frame.

"What are you doing?" She tugs at her wrists.

I make sure the knots are loose enough to not chafe at her skin.

"You’ll see." I slide her bikini bottoms down her legs and toss them aside. Rising to my feet, I shrug out of my swim trunks, then look up to find her watching me with lust in her eyes. Her gaze slides down my chest to where my cock stands at attention.

I grab one of the towels, then use it to tie her ankle to the metal bar at the base of the lounger, near where her feet rest.

Then do the same to the other. When I stand at the bottom of the sun lounger, I look at my handiwork.

She’s tied spread-eagle with the sun's rays gleaming over her. A trembling grips her. The sweet scent of her arousal mixes with the nutty one of the sunscreen. A powerful aphrodisiac. I walk around to stand behind her. She looks up at me with curiosity.

I pour out more of the sunscreen into my palms before placing my knees on either side of her head. I massage her breasts in ever widening circles. Breathless cries of need whisper from her as she undulates her hips with need.