She should try.
Rox’s body lengthened on the bench as her arms and legs relaxed.
Cash chuckled, massaging her legs and up her sides. “That’s better.”
Rox twisted her hands in the ropes and found that she could reach the iron loops. She clutched them like handles.
His hands roamed her legs, massaging her calves and the tops of her feet. With her head hanging down the other side of the bench, she couldn’t see him unless she curled up, pulling on her wrists bound above and behind her. When she tried, her arms weighed her down. Holding herself up was exhausting, and her abs began to tremble within seconds.
Rox lay back while his hands traveled over her skin.
His strong fingers caressed her thighs, milking the tension out of them. With each swipe of his hands, her body relaxed, until his hands began to reach higher on her legs.
As his hands swirled, each rub brought them closer to her sex.
She began to anticipate each stroke, feeling his large, strong hands press her legs, run up her flesh, and she closed her eyes.
His strong hands rose up her legs again, and this time, he brushed his fingers over her folds.
Her body was still responding to him from when he was holding her in his arms, still ripe from his touch, and a jolt blew through her.
She arched off the bench, and his chuckle floated through the air to her.
His hands firmed on her inner thighs, massaging, and his thumbs parted her folds, barely touching her, giving her only the smallest of touches when she craved much more.
As she sighed, and then moaned, he touched her more, stroked her more, teased her more.
One of his thumbs rubbed a tight circle over her clit, tightening her body. The other pushed inside her, rubbing her there, deepening every stroke.
She whimpered and tightened her fists on the handles.
Her body knotted, getting close. Her thighs trembled as she arched, feeling every stroke. His relentless rhythm drove her closer to the edge. Her breath rushed in her lungs.
So close.
His hands slowed, withdrew, and massaged her legs.
Rox opened her eyes. “Why did you—”
He was smiling over her bare knees at her. “No talking, or I will spank you.”
Even though he was still smiling that intense, sly smile, his green eyes were perfectly serious.
Her abs started to shake again. Rox lay back on the bench.
Warmth touched her knee, something warm and wet.
She curled back up and tried to brace herself on her elbows, but she couldn’t quite get them to the table because her wrists were tied.
He had pressed his mouth to her knee, running his lips and tongue over the inside of her thigh. His hand was braced against her other knee, his forearm turned so she could see the tattoo of the three shields: the red and white checkerboard, the one with the three crowns on a blue field, and the last one—the one that always drew her attention—white lion, aflame, on bright orange.
Didn’t the Dutch national sports teams wear orange? She seemed to remember from the last Olympics, that the Dutch team had worn glowing, neon orange.
Rox fell back, breathing hard.
The warmth of his mouth traveled up the inside of her leg, blowing humid warmth over her skin and making her thigh quiver when he reached halfway.
He nipped her then, a quick clip with his teeth that stung, and then he soothed her skin with his tongue.
Rox anticipated each tortuous lick and sucking kiss as his mouth ascended her leg. He pressed his hand to her other thigh, opening her legs farther, and the warm air cooled the damp skin between her legs.
The warmth of his mouth crawled up her thigh and over the softness at the top, and he tongued the crease between her thigh and folds before he settled his mouth on her and started with a slow lick that took forever to rub over her clit.
Rox clutched the ropes on her wrists lest she fly off the bench.
He pressed his lips on her, using his tongue and lips like a long, deeply penetrating French kiss. Her body trembled, every second a torture as she edged closer to orgasm. She pushed with her heels, lifting her hips, and he slid his hands under her ass and tongued her harder, dipping inside her and laving over every sensitive nub and spot, all of them.
The iron loops dug into Rox’s fingers as she held on, her breath trapped in her chest. Her body spun, spiraled more tightly as the pleasure wound around her and strangled her. She gasped for air, but her lungs were straining, almost there.
Cold.
Nothing and cold.
Nothing.
She screamed through clenched teeth.
His mouth had left her clit, and Cash crawled up her body. He had taken his pants off at some point. A small part of her mind was impressed by his multi-tasking, but she was too dazed from the sudden lack of his mouth on her clit to think. “Wha—”
His cock lay on her stomach, heavy and so long, while she panted. Her body thrummed with near-release.