Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) (22 page)

My breath caught. I knew all about that.

“April wanted everything to stay the same. To live in the suburbs, to hang out with her family on the weekends. She likes to be in control, to have routines, to be organized. Everything always her way.”

“Uncompromising,” I whispered.

He gave me a bitter half-smile. “When I took the job in the city, an hour commute each way, after she’d told me not to . . . She was furious. There was an ultimatum.”

The memory spiked of how he’d said he didn’t respond well to ultimatums. I felt like it was okay to ask, like he wanted me to. “Which was?”

“Get down on one knee or get the hell out of her life. I don’t think she expected that to go the way it did. When it was over for me, it was
over.
I cut her completely out. Twelve years gone, like they meant nothing, and . . .” he struggled to finish, “that hurt us both.”

I couldn’t even imagine. I’d had a few bad breakups, but to burn twelve years? Both of them would carry scars from it.

He set his drink down and shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it in the open closet by the door. His fingers undid the tie at his neck, and then left it open when he returned to his champagne.

“Since we’re doing all this sexy talk about exes,” he said, “Can I ask about the guy at the club? The one who showed up at your place?

“I told you, he was never my boyfriend.”

“But there’s more there.”

“Blake and I’ve been friends for years, and occasionally one of us would want more, and it always worked out that the other person was unavailable.”

“He said he loved you and that you told him you loved him.” His rich brown eyes evaluated me.

“I did, on New Year’s Eve when I was wasted and lonely.”

“Was it true?”

Why did it matter? “Maybe. Yeah, but it’s not true anymore. I think he only said it to stop me from going into the club.”

“I’m glad he wasn’t able to.” Logan’s face was intense and had a gravity I couldn’t resist.

“Me, too.”

He moved to the air conditioner and turned the temperature down so the unit kicked on, blowing cool air on us.

“You think it’s warm in here?” I was kind of cold.

“I don’t want to get you too hot again,” he said. “And I’d like to take my time being highly inappropriate tonight, if that’s all right with you.”

I felt my face heat. “I’ll allow it.”

But he moved back to where he’d been leaning on the desk, rather than coming to me. “Good. Strip.”

The temperature in the room rose. My breath quickened with his command. I stood on my feet and finished my champagne, setting it on the end table with a quiet thud. My hands went to the side of my dress and dragged the zipper pull down painfully slowly, my gaze fixed on his.

“The lights?” I was more curious than worried. The glass of champagne seemed to go straight to my head

“We’ll leave them on.”

I pulled the strap off my shoulder and the dress came down, exposing my bare breasts. I pushed it over my hips and it fell, the satin lining caressing me as it went. There was a steady rise and fall of his shoulders as his gaze wandered over my curves. I had on a simple pair of black cotton panties. Without a boyfriend for the last two years, sexy lingerie hadn’t made the budget.

He went to the far side of the bed and pulled down the comforter so only the sheets were left before returning to his spot. “On the bed, now.”

What did he have planned? I gathered the pillows up in a pile and sat on the cool sheets with the pillows at my back.

“I want to watch you touch yourself.”

My breath caught. “You do, huh? Where?”

“Wherever you want.”

I started with my breasts, because honestly, I knew he wanted a show. If this were for me, a private-alone-time kind of thing, I’d head straight downstairs. I filled my hands with the weight of my breasts, my nipples already tight and hard from the air conditioning and his inescapable gaze.

My fingers danced over the soft, bare skin, and I teased myself with a pinch, pulling the nipple away and letting it snap back. The eyes on me were heavy. I could feel every move they made, especially as they followed my hand that drifted lower. All the way down until it touched the black cotton.

He sat there, leaning on the desk and drinking the remainder of his drink casually as my fingers continued. I opened my legs wider, bending my knees as my hand explored. I stayed over the panties, rubbing myself until a moan broke free from my lips. I wanted this to be his hand touching me, not my own. But before I could say that—

“Pull them to the side. I want to see how wet you’ve made yourself.”

I swallowed an enormous breath. His words were such a turn-on, was it possible I could get off just from the stuff he said? I wasn’t wet from what I was doing, it was from his commands. My fingers hooked around the side and pulled the fabric away to expose myself to him.

He exhaled and made a sound of appreciation. “Take those off and make yourself come.”

“What?”

“I want to see how you do it, so I know exactly how you like it.”

I didn’t mind touching myself in front of him, but that? It was so
private.
“You know how I like it.”

“I’m sure there’s room for improvement.”

I doubted it, but slipped my fingers under the waistband and took them off, dropping them over the side of the bed. I was totally naked for him. My knees fell to part when my fingers went down over my mound to touch were I was slick and hot.

It felt different when he was watching. The pads of my fingers rubbed and circled, sending pleasure sizzling across my nerves. I closed my eyes and enjoyed myself, listening to his heavy breathing over my own.

“Do you only use the one hand?” He asked it hushed, like he didn’t want to disturb me.

I nodded, keeping my eyes closed. Oh my god, I was embarrassingly wet.

“Do you finger yourself or just rub your clit?”

“Why?” It was hard to focus when he asked me questions. “Are you taking notes?”

He chuckled, and then there was another noise as he shifted. I opened my eyes. He’d undone his pants and had a hand inside them, stroking himself, although I couldn’t see.

“How is that fair?” I kept touching myself lazily. “You get to watch and I don’t.”

His long fingers unbuttoned his shirt. He removed it, hung it on the back of the chair, and then his pants were off, folded on top.

“I believe I’m naked, sir.” I rose an eyebrow at the fact he’d left his boxers on. He grinned so widely that I froze. “What?”

“The last time you called me that was when you had a blindfold on. I liked it.”

That wasn’t surprising that he had liked it. That implied authority as if he were my master. He was anything but. Sure, I took commands from him, but I was smart enough to know I held plenty of power over him. He was touching himself because of what I was doing. My effect on him.

His boxers were yanked down and his dick sprang free, hard and straight, and he wrapped a firm grip around it.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said, his gaze fixed on my fingers that were stirring faster and faster, building in intensity. I moaned and relished the compliment. He stood and came to me, his hand on top of mine, stopping it so he could put his own hand there.

My moan of satisfaction turned to frustration when he stepped back. He’d run his hand between my legs to get it wet, to give himself lubrication as he jerked off.

“Logan.”

“The sooner you show me, the sooner you can have me.”

Well, if that wasn’t motivation, I didn’t know what was. I didn’t normally use two hands, and the one stayed on the outside. It never felt as good as the real thing to me, but if it could speed me along, I was all for it. My other hand walked down to join the first, then further until I could insert my finger as deep inside me as it would go.

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Imagine that’s my finger inside you.”

“Why do I have to imagine?”

“Go at the pace you want me to fuck you.” His hand slid back and forth on himself, his knuckles white.

I did as he told me, and lying there before him, doing something I’d never let anyone else truly see, I let go. I closed my eyes and imagined his finger inside me, taking me up and up, climbing closer to the peak.

“I could watch you do that all night.”

No, he really fucking couldn’t. Not after this morning.

“Oh god, I’m coming,” I cried.

My hands moved furiously, fingers pumping in and out. My back arched, and I cried out and collapsed back into the pillows. My orgasm hadn’t subsided before he was on the bed. He knelt between my legs and ran his dick on me, drenching himself in my orgasm. Then he pressed inside me, and the second orgasm, the one that piggybacks, roared into life with this sudden connection. I threw my hands around his shoulders and clung to him, convulsing. Pulsing. Throbbing.

He moved slowly, stroking me from the inside, prolonging the enormous pleasure until it ebbed.

“Not that I’m complaining,” I whispered when I had my breath back, “but what about the raincheck?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there.” His devious expression gave me another aftershock.

He grabbed a handful of pillows from behind me and tossed them aside, so I was flat on my back, him up on straightened arms. He moved, grinding his hips into mine. Electric shocks flashed through my sensitive body.

His handsome face had that seductive smile on it. “I want your hands.”

I dragged them down his arms, loving the feel of the strong muscles beneath his flesh. He took my hands in his, lacing our fingers together, and pressed them above my head, holding them to the mattress. He leaned forward and brought our lips together.

My eyes would have gone wide if that was possible, but it wasn’t. They closed under his silent command. Under the power of this kiss. Tonight, Logan wanted to make love.

He withdrew almost completely and then sank back into my body, which welcomed his every gentle intrusion. I drew a line on his lips with my tongue, begging to taste him.

“Yes,” I whimpered. “Yes.”

He hadn’t asked me a question, and yet I’d give him whatever he wanted. I shifted to meet him, eager. Drowning in my desire for him and in the passion of the moment. It’d never felt this good. It could have been hours or just minutes, I lost all track of time when his mouth was on mine and he was moving deep inside. I writhed beneath him. My soft cries of pleasure were muted by his unrelenting kiss.

He stilled and shifted over me, withdrawing and trailing kisses down my chest.

“Where are you going?” I demanded, even though it was obvious. I wasn’t one to usually turn that down, but now? It was cruel torture to tease me with his lovemaking and take it away. His fingers spread me open to his intimate kiss, and I jerked up onto my elbows.

“Logan, please . . .” I cried. My hand curled under his chin to try to bring him back to me.

“You don’t like this?” His deep voice rumbled from in between my thighs. He fucked me with his mouth, his tongue fluttering on my flesh and heat raced outward from it.

“Oh!” I moaned when he pressed his face into me, nuzzling me and causing me to collapse flat on my back. I was utterly conflicted. His mouth was indecent and, holy shit, I didn’t want him to stop. Yet I worried that when he returned he’d change, he’d adopt a new style. He’d have a new way to satisfy me, and I didn’t want that.

“Come back to me,” I said in a breathy voice. “Make love to me.”

He lifted his head in startled surprise, so I seized it and pulled him up. His hard body slid over mine. His wet lips returned to my lips, and he nudged me with his dick, slipping into me with a groan of pleasure.

In the pit of my stomach, desire tightened like a vise.

His hand was warm and tight on my hip and his other held my face to his kiss. Longing for each of us to reach our end poured out, seeping everywhere, blurring the lines for me. What I’d asked him to do was dangerous. The romance of the wedding, the glass of champagne . . . It all had a powerful, drugging, manipulating effect.

“Open your eyes.” This demand from him sounded much like a plea.

His dark, beautiful eyes were hypnotic. I fought the swell of pleasure that threatened to consume. He eased a hand behind my knee and guided me to open my legs wider, to lift the knee high around his waist. It was so he could bend a knee, and the hand on my hip slid under my body, tilting me so I could feel everything. His chest dragged over my hardened nipples, edging me closer to overload.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispered, his eyes watching mine.

I stayed silent, unable to form thought. Every second I remained beneath him, fighting to drag air into my body and keep my eyes open, forced my climax closer and closer until I felt like it was on top of me and not him. The glide of his body in and out of mine became too much.

My skin was covered in goosebumps, but I wasn’t cold. He’d set me on fire. Every inch of his skin covered my skin, and it was tingling the moment before my orgasm descended on me.