Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) (15 page)

“You realize refusing to answer only makes me more curious,” I whispered.

His lips on mine weren’t sweet. They were persuasive and sinful and demanding. “Be curious a little longer.”

“You can’t kiss me,” I blurted out, pulling back. “Not until you answer the question you passed on. That’s your consequence for breaking the rule.”

He gave me a predatory look that made me nervous but thrilled, and my heart beat faster.

“You may think you’re being smart, but you’re going to cave before I do.” It came out as arrogant as he usually sounded. “Take off your clothes.”

The smile froze on my face. “What?”

“You heard me.” His hands unbuttoned his shirt and it fell open, showing me that glorious chest I wanted to drag my fingernails down. He pulled one sleeve off and then the other, folding his shirt and tossing it onto the couch.

There something about a gorgeous half-undressed man with an expensive watch on one wrist that is undeniably appealing, and there was one currently standing in the center of my apartment. His fingers undid the clasp, and he set the watch on his shirt. So neat and tidy. His fingers went to his belt.

“You’re falling behind,” he said.

His power was goddamn fascinating, and I was a slave to it.

My hurried hands undid the clasp on my necklace and set it on the kitchen counter, which was the closest flat surface I could find. I stumbled back a few steps to snap off the light, so only the bulb in the closet lit the room. Not that it mattered, he’d thoroughly seen me naked, but it felt more intimate somehow when the room was darkened. The shirt went up over my head, and I tossed it on the pile.

“No, leave that on,” he said when I reached behind myself to undo my bra.

He removed his shoes, socks, and pants and added them to his neat pile. All he had left was a pair of black boxer briefs that made me want to drool. I undid my pants, which fell to the floor, and I simply stepped out of them, leaving them wadded there.

“I want to clarify,” he said, brushing a finger over my lips, “I can’t kiss you here. But everywhere else is allowed. You will let me kiss you here.” The finger drew a line down my neck, down into my cleavage, and over to trace the top of the cup of my bra. “And here.” The finger traced down my stomach. Further until it touched my center and made my mouth drop open. “And certainly here.”

How did he do that? One simple touch and I was falling apart. My need for him was insatiable.

“Correct?” His finger dipped down the front of my panties and touched me.

“Yes,” I answered.

“You’re already so wet. Do I turn you on that much?”

“Yes.” God, truer words had never been spoken.

“You know it’s mutual.” He used his other hand to take mine and set it on top of his dick straining against the cotton of his boxers. He was so hard. It was powerful, knowing I did that to him. And with that power, I knew what I wanted to do. I put my hands on his hard chest and eased him the three steps back to the couch.

Last time I’d gone down on him, it had lasted all of a minute. Tonight I wanted to see just how disoriented I could make him while I got to be in control. He allowed me to push his shoulders down, and he sat in the center of my worn but comfortable couch. I knelt between his knees and pulled his boxer briefs down, setting his massive dick free.

“Are you going to suck my cock?”

“That was the plan. Is that all right?” I touched it to my lips and looked up at him.

His face was determined. “If you don’t mind.”

I rolled my lips over my teeth and slid him into my mouth, enjoying the response that got, the sharp hiss of breath from him.

“Fuck,” he whispered. His hands pushed my hair back to give him a better view. I tried to take him as deep as I could, and as I drew up, I sucked hard, hollowing my cheeks. This earned me a whole slew of profanities, but they were all encouraging.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth, boss,” I said.

“Stop talking and focus on your task.” Again, no clue if it was a half-joke or completely serious.

I started slowly, just my mouth and suction, and graduated to moving my tongue around, licking him from the base all the way to the ridge beneath the head. His hand not holding my hair back was splayed out on his thigh, and I watched his fingers curl into a fist and then flex back out.

That was what I wanted. That tiny signal that maybe I could make him feel as out of control as he made me. I wrapped my hand tight around the part I couldn’t fit in my mouth and dragged my grip up, then back down, following with my mouth. It took no time for his dick and my hand to be coated in saliva.

He took shallow, quick breaths, watching me through hooded eyes. “Yeah, just like that.” Over and over again I moved, sometimes twisting my grip or letting my teeth ever so gently skim over him.

“Fucking shit,” he groaned. “Do you have blowjobs . . . on your résumé . . . under special skills? I’ll give you a recommendation.” I wanted to laugh or flash him a smug smile, but his hips moved to match my pace, urging me to go faster. I did, and his breathing grew more uneven and desperate.

“Evelyn, fuck, you have to stop.”

I wanted to hear it and kept my grip moving on him. “Why?”

“You’ll make me come.”

I used the most seductive voice I had. “Maybe I want that.”

But the power I held over him wasn’t as great when I was using my hands, and I could feel it slipped back to him.

“That’s not what I want.” It was almost a growl from him. “Stand up.”

I was independent and strong, and raised not to take orders from anyone. Yet, his orders made me shudder, made heat pool in my body, flowing toward the junction of my thighs. I put my hands on his knees and raised myself up so I stood between his legs.

His hand went to the pocket of his pants nearby, fishing out a condom packet and tearing it open. I watched long fingers expertly roll it on. He slipped his hands around my waist, dragging his tongue on the skin just above my panties. Fingers slipped under the fabric, easing one side down over my hipbone, and his hot mouth followed.

“Logan,” I whispered. Hearing his name on my lips did something to him. Like it snapped the control he had on himself, if only for a second, but it was so worth it to see him come undone. His hands yanked my panties down.

“Come here,” he said, snaking an arm behind my back and pulling me down on him, one leg on either side and his dick right at my entrance. “I want to be inside you.”

Yes, I wanted that too. I lowered down on him, taking just the tip in, and I had to bite my lip. Would my body ever get used to him? His hands were on my hips, but helping to hold me there, not pressing me down on him.

While my body was adjusting, he set his face in the crook of my neck and began kissing me, working his way up. Toward my mouth, where he knew he wasn’t allowed. I took another inch inside, gasping against the protest my body made.

It always felt so good, that first time he was completely inside me and, wanting to prolong it, I continued to move an inch at a time.

“Fuck, you’re making me crazy.” It rang out on his tortured voice.

His lips wandered over my cheek, over my chin, the base of my throat. Everywhere but where I wanted them and denied them.

As usual, Logan Stone was right. I was going to cave long before he did. I wrapped my arms around him, setting them on his shoulders, and sank down all the way. Pleasure was immediate. The grind of my body against his created a sharply focused need, growing more acute when he guided me up and back down on him. Again, and again.

“Oh my god,” I murmured, my head falling onto my arms banded on his shoulder.

I felt his fingertips skirt across my back, releasing the bra clasp, and slip the straps off my shoulders.

“I want to see all of you,” his voice was hushed. Tender.

I uncrossed my arms and let him pull the bra hurriedly away, the straps tangling briefly on my arms as they went. I think he’d had plans of another marathon session with lots of dirty talk, but apparently I’d changed his course simply by uttering his name. This wasn’t fucking.

It was something else completely.

His hands were everywhere, caressing me, stroking me, making me tremble. I moved faster on him, my mouth planting kisses on his neck, sucking on his earlobe. His soft hair was in my hands when he locked his mouth around my nipple, swirling his tongue and using the slightest hint of teeth.

I pulled his head to mine, trying to put my lips on his, but he turned away from it.

“I’m not going to break your rule,” he said, his voice broken. His eyes were intense and spoke volumes. He wanted that connection as badly as I did.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Then make me come,” I pleaded.

“I can do that.” His hand drifted between our bodies, touching the hard knot just above our union. His other hand wrapped on the back of my neck, holding me to him so our foreheads were touching, our lips only a breath away. He watched me intently, gauging each tiny reaction to what he was doing, watching my cues so he could send me over the edge.

“Yes,” I gasped, “Yes, oh my god, yes.”

Pleasure exploded inside me, radiating outward. I writhed and bucked on top of him, his hands holding me to him as I trembled through my orgasm.

“Fuck, Evelyn.” He was coming, pulsing and throbbing inside me, his hands so tight on me it was almost painful. My head rolled forward, resting on his heaving shoulders.

“I didn’t know you were close,” I said, catching my breath.

“I always get really close when you come.”

I lifted my head up and glared down into his face.

“Why,” I asked, “did we wait so long to start doing this?”

An enormous grin spread on his face. It was good I’d already come, because the sight of it probably would have made me.

“I guess you’re not upset I took the blindfold off, huh?”

chapter

ELEVEN

Tuesday morning I passed by his office without turning my head to see if he was in. His light was on and his door was open, and I knew eventually I’d see him. I’d decided on my train ride in that this would be another game. Who would be better at pretending we didn’t have nasty, dirty sex in his office or crazy-passionate sex on my couch yesterday? I was determined it would be me.

Before leaving my place last night, Logan had casually told me that as his girlfriend now, rule three was always in effect. Even if he wasn’t around. So if I wanted rub one out real quick before going to sleep, I’d have to call or text him and ask permission.

I’d laughed, but of course, he wasn’t kidding. My second response was to tell him the rule applied to him as well. The joke was on me when I got my first-ever text message from my boyfriend at ten minutes after midnight, an hour after I’d fallen asleep.

I hadn’t thought this through. He was a guy, which meant he was going to be blowing up my phone every time he jerked off, which I knew guys did frequently.

But . . . I kind of liked it. Knowing he would always have to think of me whenever he was close to coming. I gave him permission last night, but what would happen if I said no next time, denied his orgasm? Would he drive right over to my place and demand I give him what he wanted? What would happen if he said no . . . to me? Oh, shit, this was going to be fun.

I heated my lunch in the break room and was working on the GoodFood business card design when my phone chimed with a text message from Logan.