Which was great because rugby was played and practiced outdoors. The mosquitos weren’t as bad here as they had been in Johannesburg, but I wasn’t immune and had gotten my fair share.
I brushed my fingertips over her raised skin, giving her a startle, but she shifted against my touch as if needing more. When I ran the edge of my fingernails over the bite, her lips parted on a soft sigh.
She’d said it wasn’t sexy, but she’d been wrong. Giving her relief was nearly the same as pleasure. Would her reaction be similar if I did?
“I guess I’m a delicious one,” she said.
Fuck me. I already knew it was true, but I wished I could confirm it. Press my lips to hers and taste her kiss. Was I allowed to? There wasn’t anything on the board about it.
Wait. I needed to focus. It’d be impossible for her to answer questions if I was kissing her, and worse—I was certain once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I drew my hand away.
“Thank you.” Her voice had an edge of strain, like I’d stopped without giving her full satisfaction.
“Do you like this?” I said abruptly. “Working here?”
“It’s whatever you want. If you don’t want me to like it, sir, I won’t.”
I tensed. “No, sorry. I meant it as a question. I’m curious.”
Even with the blindfold covering half her face, I could tell she was unsure how to answer. And why shouldn’t she be? What was the upside to saying the truth if the answer was no?
I couldn’t tell if it was genuine from her flat tone. “Yes, sir.”
“Forget I asked.” I snatched up my drink and finished it.
In the awkward silence, she moved. She brought her ankles together and ran the side of her foot against the bug bite.
“It’s going to keep itching unless you leave it alone,” I said lightly. I wrapped my palm around her ankle and held her still.
“Oh,” she gasped as I pressed the cold side of my glass against the bug bite. It wasn’t going to be enough to numb the nerves, though, so I put the glass down, dug out an ice cube with my fingers, and set the flat edge against her irritated skin.
She gave a quiet hiss, but there was a faint moan tacked onto the end of it. If someone were to come in right now, it’d look like I was teasing her with ice. I flashed on the idea of dragging the ice cube slowly along her inseam, and lust swamped me. I rolled the melting ice in tiny circles over the spot.
My voice was tight. “Does it still itch?”
“No, sir.”
Cold water pooled against her skin before dripping down, and like the slider of a Ouija board, the ice cube moved beneath my touch, guided by an invisible force. It left a glistening path as it trailed up her leg.
Her chest rose and fell with her hurried breaths as I skimmed along, up the side of her thigh, following the same route I’d taken earlier.
“I haven’t done sensory play in a while.” She sounded excited, even as she squirmed under the cold edge knifing across her bare skin. Like she both did and didn’t enjoy it.
I’d never done it before. Was I supposed to say that? Even though I was paying for it, I didn’t want her to think I was clueless. I took a detour around her thigh, skirting the edge of her pussy, and dragged the ice cube up over her belly.
Her nipples were already tight and pointed, and I slid the ice over one, then the other, drawing glistening lines across her skin. Her swallow was audible. Her chest heaved. Everything about her response said she was into it. If she liked the cold, would she like heat too? I went in for the kill. I leaned down and swiped the tip of my tongue over one distended nipple.
Her moan was just louder than her hard swallow had been, but her hips shifted, creaking against the leather cushion. She’d brought her knees together, clamping down on her pleasure.
I’d given her just a hint, but now I latched my mouth on her and sucked. Hard.
“Oh.” Her soft word was heavy with satisfaction.
My blood heated, boiling through my body. “You like that?”
“Mmm. I do.”
Down the ice cube went, faster this time as it slalomed over her curves, racing toward the center of her legs. Her quick breath cut off as I closed in, and it looked like every muscle in her tensed in anticipation of the cold sliding over the hottest part of her.