Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) (10 page)

Logan was different when he was in my mouth, under my power. He seemed scattered. Not his commanding self. And he was silent. Usually that’s what I wanted, but not tonight. I could ask him what he liked to encourage him to talk, but that would violate a rule . . . Screw it.

“Do you like fucking my mouth?”

He was breathing heavy and it seemed like he struggled to process the question. An alarm must have gone off in his head because he hooked me under my arms and pulled me off of him. He brought me up, pulling one of my legs across his lap, positioning me over him.

“I like fucking your tight, little pussy better.”

Holy fuck, the things he said. It was such a turn-on. He leaned in and my eyes fell closed, anticipating his kiss. I craved it, and just as the faintest hint of his lips touched mine, they were gone. I moved in, but he turned away. His hands cupped my head and held it tight so he could hover just a breath away.

He knew how badly I wanted his mouth on mine. “Don’t break the rules,” he warned. He put his lips on my neck and sucked. Hard. When he pulled back, he chuckled. “I cannot tell you how unprofessional I think hickeys are.”

I tried to scramble off of him, but he held me tight.

“I’m joking,” he said, “I didn’t mark you. But I could do it other places.”

There was a pulsing ache in between my legs. How did he mean? A hickey somewhere else? Another spanking, maybe this one less playful than the last time? The room felt like it was a thousand degrees. It was dark, but the moon outside was full and bright, and he’d left the light on in the kitchen, which streamed in through the open bedroom doorway. His eyes were warm and intense as they searched my face.

“You’re going to hold back your orgasm because it’ll be better when I allow it. So, I need to know when you’re getting close.”

“You seem to be pretty aware already.” I was a little annoyed at how quickly he had command over my body.

“I want to push it a little further.” He leaned over to the side table and opened a drawer, retrieving a foil packet. “Green means go, yellow means you’re getting close, and red means stop because you’re right on the verge.”

“You want me to tell you to stop? Yes, that was a question, get over it.”

He tore open the condom wrapper and laughed. “It’s okay. Yeah, I’m trusting you to stop yourself. It’ll be worth it, I promise.” His hand moved between our bodies and he rolled the condom on. His hands were warm on my waist.

“I should probably tell you,” I said, “that I’ve already had more tonight than I’ve ever had, so . . . it might not happen for me.”

“I’m willing to try if you are.” He urged me down so I pressed against him. He was right at my entrance and so hard. God, I wanted him.

“Okay.” I swallowed a breath. Could I do this? “Green.”

He pushed inside me slowly, lowering me down onto him. Although I was already a little sore from earlier, it felt amazing.

“Yellow.” It came out breathless.

“You can’t just say yellow because it feels good.” He gave me a devious smile. “We haven’t started moving yet.”

Then, he started fucking me. I say that because even though I was on top, he was in complete control. He kept one hand on my hip and guided my pace, his eyes locked on mine, while his other hand cupped my breast. His thumb brushed over my nipple, and I arched my back into his touch, enjoying the sensation. I filled my hands with his head, running my fingers through his hair. It was so soft.

“Kiss me,” he demanded. How the hell could I say no to that?

The rock of our bodies together made our kiss spin out of control until it was aggressive and passionate, and I had to tear my lips away from him.

“Yellow,” I gasped. This time he knew it was a real warning.

If he slowed down any, I couldn’t tell. He had both hands on my breasts, squeezing them together and pressing me back enough so he could dip his head down to them and pull a nipple in his mouth. Oh shit, my nipple was like a hard knot and so sensitive I could feel every subtle caress of his tongue.

It came from me firmer this time. “Yellow, Logan.”

Heat was pouring through my body and electricity danced down my spine. So when he nipped at me and thrust hard, it left me with no choice.

“Fuck, red.”

All movement ceased and the only sounds were his steady breathing and my gasps. I sounded like I was drowning, and I felt that way, too. He pulled my face to his and kissed me. His tongue explored my mouth, inviting me to do the same. I did. When the kiss ended, he leaned back and grinned.

“Green?”

“Green,” I whispered against his lips.

Oh man, I was in trouble when his hips began to move again. I set my hands on his shoulders and fought him for control over the pace, but it didn’t really matter. As long as he was sliding in and out of me, it felt too good. I forced myself down on him and widened my knees so I could take him as deep as possible.

“Yellow,” he said, and I froze. A smile bloomed across my face, thrilled to learn this went both ways.

He let me ride him until I got to yellow, and then he took over again. He brought me all the way to red, where my thighs burned and my body begged for release. I didn’t ask for permission; I knew he’d say no. My legs felt like jelly when he helped me off of him and rolled me onto my back.

He was on top, my breasts flattened under his broad chest. I couldn’t believe this man, the one in the office a mere thirty feet from my desk, could be so damn good at what he was doing. I dragged my nails down his back the first time I got to red, and sank my teeth into his shoulder the second. It had been next to impossible to tell him red the last time, my body was clamoring for mutiny from my mind. He’d gotten to red for the first time and lifted himself up on his arms, his gaze on me beneath him. I watched the rise and fall of his chest.

“Please.” I tried not to sound desperate. “No more.”

He didn’t answer me; instead he climbed off and turned me on my side so I was facing the large window, my back against his chest.

“You feel like you go on forever.” I sighed when he slid into me. I closed my eyes, letting lose a tear of frustration.

“Are you ready? It’s going to be intense,” he whispered behind my ear. Like this hadn’t been intense already?

I wouldn’t be able to say it again, and it fell from my mouth broken and shaky. “Green.”

His thrusts were slow and deep until I got to yellow, and then he put a hand on my hip and drove into me.

“Not yet,” he said, slowing.

“No,” I cried.

The hand left my hip, yanked my knee up, and pulled the leg back over him. So he could set his fingers on my clit. The moment he thrust into me, his fingers moved, touching me right on my core.

“Give me what’s mine,” he ordered.

Intense wasn’t a strong enough word when it began. The pleasure was too much and it was painful, stealing my breath away when the sharp edge of the orgasm overtook me. And as the edge faded, the orgasm kept coming, wave after wave of it. He’d stopped moving, maybe to let me ride it out, but when all of my muscles clamped down on him, it pulled him along with me. His hoarse voice rang out in a long groan of my name as he thrust hard and deep.

That only made it better and so much worse. I think I blacked out for a second when he pulsed inside of me. The hand on my clit had slowed but not stopped, and I was so overly sensitive down there that my brain could no longer interpret the pleasure. It felt like pain.

“Stop,” I moaned, still coming. Even the slightest touch from him made my whole body flinch and contract. “Oh god, please.”

“Are you . . . begging me to . . . stop letting you come?” He couldn’t catch his breath, even though his climax was ending. The hand was gone, and finally, the grip of the orgasm released its hold. My hand had a fistful of his comforter, and when I let my hand relax, he pulled out.

I half-laughed, half-sobbed into the pillow beneath my head. The bed shifted as he rolled, or collapsed onto his back. After a moment of rest, I heard him pull a Kleenex out of the box on the nightstand. He must have gotten rid of the condom.

“Are you okay?” He slipped an arm around me, turning my chin toward him. “You’re shaking.” His eyes were full of concern.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I said. “Don’t expect me to walk anytime soon, though. I need to lie here and die for a little while.”

“Do I need to tell you how fucking amazing that was? Because it was.”

“It was just okay for me.”

He gave me a knowing look, his eyes gleaming. “I’ll have to try harder next time.”

Next time? I wanted to ask him what exactly he had in mind. But I couldn’t. My body was too spent to risk anything and it would be morning in a few hours. I could ask him anything then. That is, if I was spending the night. Which I was going to need to do; I wasn’t going to be able to stand for a while.

He curled me into his arms without saying a word. A strong hand brushed the hair on my neck out of his way. Logan kissed me there, and I passed out.

chapter

EIGHT

I was in my boss’s bed. Naked. The curtains on his picture window were open, and it was bright as day in the room. Day, not morning. Oh my god, what time was it? I rolled over and looked at his alarm clock. It was nine something. That wasn’t so bad, but there was a very naked Logan Stone beside me, snoring softly. The one who’d mentioned he wanted to promote me. He looked good in a suit, but better like this. Peaceful, sexy . . . wait, no. Terrifying.

I forced myself to roll over and admire the other view in the room. Like the living room, it was floor-to-ceiling glass, and there were no buildings in between his and the beach. No one could see in here; no wonder he didn’t shut the curtains.

I was sore from the blissful beating he’d put on my body last night. My arms ached from the straps, my abs hurt from holding my legs around him on the table. And the downstairs situation . . . painful, but totally worth it.

But there was no way we were going to be able to have any of those shenanigans this morning, and I suspected when he woke, that was going to be on his agenda. He’d kiss me and that would convince my body to want to endure it. I think his kiss could get me to do anything.

I sat up gingerly and rose to my bare feet, padding across the carpet to his side of the bed where my panties and dress were in a heap on the floor. I had no intention of leaving. I just needed a layer of clothes on for protection. To slow me down in case he woke and set his lips on mine.

My eye shadow and mascara had relocated to under my bottom lashes, and I wiped it away with my fingers, doing my best to not look like I’d had the brains fucked out of me last night. My hair was flat and listless. I could go get the hair tie in my purse I’d left on the kitchen counter.

Logan was still out cold. In the corner of the bedroom, there was a small, upholstered chair. A thought formed in my head. He’d wake eventually, discover I wasn’t in the bed, and when he sat upright, I’d be waiting for him in that chair. Dressed, legs crossed, and holding the upper hand, ready to demand answers. I practically ran to my purse in the kitchen.

My idea must have distracted me from the sound of glass being swept up into a dustpan, so when I came out of the bedroom and she stood, we both startled each other.

“Good heavens,” she exclaimed. She was a brunette with short hair, friendly eyes, and a few extra pounds around her waist. I’d guess she was probably in her fifties. She certainly wasn’t his housekeeper – the resemblance was apparent. Logan’s mother was cleaning up the glass I’d broken when her son was going down on me. I wanted to melt into the floor and disappear forever.

“You must be Logan’s girlfriend,” she said. “The one he refuses to let me meet.”

Everything went cold and my mind went to war with itself, torn between anger and hurt. How could we have done all of that last night if he wasn’t single? I hadn’t been allowed to ask questions, but I had assumed I wouldn’t need to ask that one. How could he?

“Oh.” That was all I could say, when I really wanted to say, “Oh, shit.” How was I going to explain I wasn’t his girlfriend to his mom? She knew I’d come out of his bedroom. The dress I was wearing was not Sunday brunch attire. If I wasn’t his girlfriend, then that made me the girl he was fucking on the side. Which, apparently, I was. My growing anger and embarrassment was getting to be too much—

“Yes,” his voice came from the bedroom doorway, drawing our attention. “Yes, this is her.”

The asshole had pulled on a pair of pants, and his eyes pleaded with me to play along. I let mine go narrow. Why should I do what he wanted? He had a girlfriend for that.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Evelyn,” his mother said to me, extending a hand. “I’m Susan.”

Wait, what?

How did she know my name? It couldn’t be coincidence. There weren’t many women from my generation named Evelyn. I stared at her hand like it was alien, and then slowly shook it, trying not to be rude. When I let go, I turned to Logan and his face was blank. What the hell was going on?

“I gave you that key for emergencies,” he said to her.

“You didn’t answer your phone, and when I came in I saw the broken glass.”