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When I float back down, body spent and tingling all over, he kisses his way back up my body.

“You’re so beautiful when you let go like that.” He brushes his knuckles over my cheek.

I nuzzle into his touch instead of answering because I can’t form words yet, still catching my breath.

He trails his hand down my body—over my neck, circling my breasts, across my stomach, and further down to my sensitive core.

“I don’t think I can go again sosoon,” I say.

“Shh, just let me take care of you.” He strokes me gently, never applying too much pressure. It’s soothing rather than arousing, and I relax into his touch once more.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, his skillful fingers caressing my most intimate places while I float in a haze of satiation.

But eventually, he withdraws, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Was that okay?”

I reach for him blindly, hands landing on his chest. “It was perfect.”

The hardness of his arousal presses against my hip, and my desire builds again. My hands travel down to his pants, fumbling with the button, but it’s hard without seeing it.

He chuckles. “Wait.”

“You don’t want to?”

“That’s not what I meant. Stay like this.”

The bed bounces as I hear something rustling. Probably his clothes? The clink of a belt and something else falling to the ground.

“Spread your thighs,” he says.

What? No. It’s embarrassing.

Not being able to see is scary. My hands fly up to the blindfold, trying to find the knot. I can’t. This is too much.

“Leave it.”

My fingers stop their search at his hard voice, and instead of removing the blindfold or spreading my thighs, I sit up andcrawl toward his voice. With my hands, I feel my way and stop at what feels like the end of the bed.

His voice appears close to my ear. “I told you to spread your thighs. Didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Why aren’t you doing it, then?”

“I… Will you let me do something first?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“No taking off the blindfold.”

“The rest is allowed?”

“Yes.”

I raise my hand, searching the air until I feel his chiseled abs. They tense up as I run my fingertips down with a feathery touch. So, I heard right. He took his clothes off. I wrap my hand around his hard length, reveling in the low groan it elicits from him.

I stroke him, varying the pressure and speed, trying to find what he likes best. His breathing grows ragged, and he thrusts into my hand.

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