I’M LYING ON THE HUGEbed in my room at the resort. I’m on my back, my arms and legs spread in the shape of a star. Something fastens each of my ankles and wrists to the corners of the bed so I’m unable to move. I’m acutely aware of the fact I’m completely naked. I’m already aroused, my body needy and aching. My nipples are hard, tight buds, and I squirm against the mattress, trying to get some relief. But the way my limbs are spread means I can’t press my thighs together.
I let out a whimper.
For reasons I don’t understand, I haven’t tried to move my head to discover if there’s anyone else in the room with me. Instead, I stare up at the ceiling, focusing on a tiny spot of damp. Small patches of gray and black mold are forming, the spores spreading in almost snowflake-like patterns.
The first flicker of unease trembles within me. Since when does any part of the resort have mold? The place is meticulously maintained.
A voice startles me from my thoughts.
My heart leaps. “Rafferty?”
Finally, I look away from the ceiling, down the length of my body, between the twin mounds of breasts and through my spread legs.
He’s standing there with his suit jacket and tie removed, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his top button open. He’s staring down at me with lust in his eyes, and I almost want to cry at the beauty of him. God, he’s so perfect.
“Rafferty, why am I tied up?”
My voice sounds strange, distant, as though I’m listening to a recording of myself.
“You know why.”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
“It’s so you can’t get away when I lick your pussy.”
My breath catches, and a wave of desire pulses through me. “Oh.”
I’m not going to argue with him about that.
He moves slowly, keeping eye contact with me the whole time. I’m locked into his gaze, even as the bed dips with his weight, and he lowers his face between my thighs. I feel the heat of his breath first, and that alone has me wanting to cry out, to lift my hips and press myself to him. Wetness trickles out of me, and he’s there to catch it on his tongue.
I twist my face to the side, unable to watch any longer—the sensations are so intense—and standing to my right is Brody.
His expression is troubled. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have frightened you like that. This is all my fault.”
I don’t understand what he means. What’s his fault? The way Rafferty’s tongue is curling around my clit makes it hard for me to keep my thoughts straight.
That same sense of unease as when I’d seen the mold goes though me. Have I forgotten something?
I try to reach out to Brody, wanting to take his hand and pull him down onto the bed beside me, but I’ve forgotten that I’m tied down.
Then Rafferty moves his attention from my pussy to my ass, and I yelp in surprise. His tongue probes me, pushing past the tight ring and into my channel. I buck my hip and squeal.
“I want to get in there,” a voice says, but it’s not Rafferty speaking.