Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1)

by Nikki Sloane

  “Are you ready to eat?” On the stove, a pot boiled, sending tendrils of steam into the air. The smell of garlic was faint but delicious.

  “You cook, boss?” I had assumed we’d order out.

  “I can make a few things that are edible, yes.”

  “It smells good. What is it?”

  “Pasta.”

  “Okay.” I set my purse down on the counter, which he picked up and put in the entryway closet. “You realize that pasta is a vague descriptor?”

  “Pasta, with meat. Does that help?” His face was unreadable.

  “I, like, have no idea if you’re kidding. It’s impossible to tell with you sometimes.”

  He smiled, amused. “Chicken pesto and penne pasta.”

  “I’m allergic to pine nuts.”

  His grin froze. “You are?” His gaze went to the skillet beside the boiling pot where I could see the chicken sautéing in the pesto sauce.

  It was kind of fun to watch him derailed, but I didn’t let it last too long. “No, not really.”

  Oh, I could see in his eyes that he both did and didn’t like that. He came to me and leaned in for a kiss, and at the last second pulled away, denying me.

  He hadn’t lied; the meal he’d cooked was good. It wasn’t some special family recipe or anything crazy-fancy, but it was good. Of course it was. He seemed to be good at almost everything.

  We chatted about random things, movies and music, discovering where we had similar tastes and teasing when we found the other person’s likes didn’t match our own. The sun’s journey had brought it low in the sky, and the room was full of warm, amber-colored light.

  I tried to help clean the dishes, but he’d rather do it himself. He was so particular. When the last item had been put away and his kitchen had returned to full order, he set his attention on me. The air in the room was thick and difficult to breathe.

  “Did you,” I asked on a hesitant voice, “get the supplies you needed?”

  “Yes.” He went to the freezer and pulled out a bottle of some sort of golden liquid, setting it on the counter.

  Tequila.

  “Seriously?” I asked, kind of annoyed.

  He gave me an indecent look. One that said he wasn’t joking. Two shot glasses appeared from somewhere, and there were lime wedges in a plastic bag pulled from the fridge.

  “These are your supplies?”

  “There are other supplies in my bedroom.” His face was abruptly serious. “I think this will help you relax and like it, but . . .” He struggled to put what he wanted to say into words. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to, or just because you think I want to.”

  I stared at the bottle where condensation was already frosting the sides. I understood what he was saying. “Don’t worry, boss. If I don’t like it, you’ll hear about it.”

  He unscrewed the cap and poured us each a shot. I picked it up in one hand and readied the lime in the other.

  “Well then, bottoms up,” he said, straight-faced.

  I knocked mine back and bit into the lime, my eyes shut tight as the liquid burned down my throat. “Ugh.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he poured a second shot for me, amused at my lightweight, girly reaction.

  “I should warn you, me and tequila usually aren’t friends in the morning.” I slammed the second one, making an even louder noise of disgust this time. “One more should do it,” I said, holding out the glass for him to fill.

  He took a breath like he was debating it, so I grabbed the bottle from him and poured it myself. The deep brown eyes studied me as I struggled to get the last one down without gagging.

  I felt like I had to explain. “I don’t like to fail either.”

  Hands were on my hips, drawing me close against his chest. “You can’t fail at this, Evie. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. That’s all it would be.”

  His head bent so his lips could brush mine, and ignited the desire inside me like lighting a matchstick. I filled his mouth with my tongue, desperate to get started. But he could sense my anticipation, so of course he wanted to draw it out.

  “Go into the bedroom.” His command was on a hushed breath, but authoritative all the same. “Take off everything except for those shoes and wait for me on the bed.” He feathered a kiss into the side of my neck. “Wait for me on your hands and knees.”

  His embrace was gone in an instant and I almost fell over.

  He left me standing there with my mouth hanging open, so he could clean up the glasses and put his “supplies” away.

  “Go, Evie,” he said, firm.

  chapter

  SIXTEEN

  My heart raced as my shoes clip-clopped their way into the bedroom. As I stared at the bed, nervous waves traveled through me. I could do this. The tequila would help me through. I pulled both shirts over my head at the same time and cast them on the chair in the corner, the one I had hoped to interrogate him from a week ago. My clothes came off quickly; shedding them was easier than my trepidation. I slipped the shoes back on once my jeans were removed.

  I walked across the bed on my hands and knees, unsure of what to do now. He hadn’t given me any directions other than to wait. I positioned myself so when he came in, he’d see my round cheeks waiting for him, and so I could look out the window. The rose-colored light bounced off the nearby, shorter buildings, reflecting the sunset on the water of Lake Michigan.

  I waited.

  And waited.

  There was no sound from the other room, forcing me to think about what was going to happen when he finally came in. Would we go straight to it or would we mess around first? He’d said he had more supplies in here, but the tops of his dresser and nightstand were bare.

  As I waited, I got tipsy off of the tequila and the situation. Totally naked, well, other than the shoes, waiting for him like a servant. It made me insane and needy and so fucking turned on.

  “Logan,” I said, loudly. “Are we going to do this or what?”

  Bare feet. I’d forgotten that without shoes on, he could move around without making much noise. He set his palms on my hips and drew me backward. Backward onto his face.

  “Oh, shit,” I mumbled. His tongue licked me, circling where I was swollen and aching for him.

  “Your pussy tastes even better than it looks.” His intimate kiss was invasive and mind-numbing. More. I wanted more. The tequila was kicking in now, and I rocked my hips against his face, positioning myself exactly how I wanted it.

  “Do you want to see the other supplies I bought today?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth it returned to me, fucking me.

  “Not if you have to stop doing what you’re doing,” I moaned.

  There was a chuckle, the same half-laugh I’d heard when I called him sir at the club. A drawer squeaked open and he rummaged around, but his mouth stayed on me, thank god. I was getting close to my first of what I hoped would be several orgasms tonight when he started tossing items down on the bed beside me.

  A bottle of lube. Batteries. A simple white vibrator still in its plastic package.

  Leather handcuffs.

  “We don’t have to use all or any of it, if you don’t want to.”

  My brain was foggy with lust. All I could focus on was the tongue lashing at me, the mouth sucking at the knot between my legs. His hot mouth made its journey to the back, and I exhaled loudly.

  “Do you own a vibrator?” The tongue slipped down, plunging into my entrance.

  “I haven’t had a boyfriend in two years,” I said, “and I live alone. I could have just brought mine.”

  “Maybe I want you to have your own here, so I can use it on you whenever I want.”

  In my drunkenness, I laughed. That’s the kind of relationship we had; I’d have a spare vibrator at his place before I had a spare toothbrush. As soon as the laugh was out, he eased a finger inside me and I grew serious. The finger moved deliberately and unhurried, even as I w
rithed on the bed, eager to find release that was only a breath away.

  “Shit, don’t stop,” I said. It was crazy the command he held over my body.

  Why the hell did I say anything? Of course he did exactly what I didn’t want him to do. His hand was gone and I heard him straighten.

  “Get over here. I’m going to fuck that dirty mouth you’ve got.”

  I turned over my shoulder to see the dark, nasty expression that waited for me. I scrambled over the bed and rose onto my knees. My hands flew to his belt buckle and hurried to undo it, and then the fly of his jeans. He didn’t help me. Instead he shed his shirt. His hands pulled me from the bed. A second later the jeans and boxers were bunched at his ankles.

  “On your knees,” he ordered in a dark, powerful voice.

  In a second, my knees were buried on the plush carpet. I would only allow him to do this. To put his hand on my head and push me toward his crotch, demanding I give him pleasure. Fuck, it was hot. I opened my mouth and took the damp head of his dick inside, rolling my tongue over the ridge. I slipped it in further, sucking until my cheeks hollowed out.

  “Look at me when you’re sucking my cock.”

  I shuddered at his words and obeyed, opening my eyes to look up at his handsome face—

  The hand not holding my hair back was holding his cellphone.

  I drew my mouth away. “What are you doing?” Although it was obvious he was taking video.

  “Do you have any idea how fucking hot it is watching you go down on me?”

  The brown eyes left the small screen in his hand to lock onto my gaze. If I had a problem with it, he expected me to say so now. Maybe if I’d had less to drink I might have cared, but I didn’t. I could always make him delete it when I sobered up, and the idea of this video in his phone . . . I liked it.

  I locked a firm grip on the part of him that had no hope of fitting in my mouth, flicked my gaze back up to him, and tried to give the greatest blowjob I’d ever given.

  “Fuck, yes. You like the way that cock tastes?” he groaned, glancing at the screen and back to me. I moaned my approval. Once again, I put on a show. I shifted angles, I tried to keep my hair out of the way, and I ran my tongue down the length of him. Then I opened to his magnificent dick and let him pump it in and out of my mouth.

  “You’re so gorgeous with your lips wrapped around my dick.”

  I sucked at the soft skin covering a steel bar of flesh. He was doing surprisingly well, or else my inebriation made me sloppy, because he didn’t stop me or seem to get all that close like he usually did. Perhaps the phone had him distracted. “I’m going to fuck that pussy, Evie. And then I’m going to fuck that ass.”

  I moaned again, his dick vibrating in my mouth. There was a mechanical chime, signaling the video was shut off and he tossed his phone onto the bed, where it slid to a stop near the center. This meant he had plans of using it again, otherwise he would have put it on the dresser where it would have been safer, but out of reach.

  His hands hauled me up to stand and our kiss was raw and wild, driving our naked bodies together. He felt hard in all the right places, and my hands were drawn to him like a magnet. I wasn’t allowed to explore for very long. Rough hands turned me and shoved me down so I was bent over, face down in the bed. I was nervous and excited when his hand closed around my wrist and pulled it gently behind my back. Breath came and went in shallow bursts.

  “Are you interested in these?” he asked. His naked body pressed against me, skin against skin. He had my wrist held in one hand, and the black leather cuffs with a metal clasp connecting them in his other. I fought against my desire and aching need, forcing myself to focus on his question. I liked being restrained; the night at the club had shown me that. But what about—

  His breath was warm, washing over me. “We’ll take them off before we get to the new stuff.”

  I nodded a wobbly head. “I’m game, boss.”

  He loosened the buckle on the leather and eased my hand inside and then closed it tight. When he reached for my other wrist, I moved away. His eyes went wide with concern, thinking I was scared or had changed my mind, but then he saw the teasing smile on my lips.

  His hand captured my wrist easily, buckling it roughly. Then it was done. My arms were secured behind my back. I arched up off the mattress, stretching my arms behind me to touch him, but as soon as my fingers touched skin, he put a hand on my shoulder and pushed down gently. With nothing to stop me, I fell forward onto my stomach.

  “Stay just like that, naughty girl.”

  His long fingers grabbed the batteries and packaged vibrator, and I had to lift my head and turn it the other direction to see him disappear out the bedroom doorway. It was a nice view of his naked ass, but it was gone before I could fully appreciate it.

  A drawer opened. There was the sound of plastic being cut open, followed by the faucet running. His large frame reappeared in the doorway, sliding batteries into the vibrator and screwing the cap back on. With a turn of his wrist, I heard the soft hum as he tested it and then turned it back off, satisfied.

  It wasn’t very long or thick. Logan was calculating and he’d selected this vibrator for a reason. Maybe he didn’t want me to get addicted to it, to make sure his dick was more impressive and I’d crave it over the vibrator. If that was his reason, it was ridiculous. How on earth could I ever want a piece of plastic over him?

  The vibrator fell onto the comforter beside me, and he set his palms on my shoulders. Warm, damp hands trailed down my biceps, past my elbows, down until they were on the cuffs. Further, onto my ass. Down the backs of my thighs, and knees. This gentle touching, seemingly innocent while I was cuffed and waiting for him to please me, was making me insane.

  “Fuck me,” I said, edged with desperation.

  He feigned reluctance. “Oh, all right.”

  His dick pressed against my entrance, stretching me as he intruded. I exhaled loudly. “It feels so good.”

  “When I’m inside you?” He pushed deeper until he was buried as far as he could go. “I agree.”

  The orgasm that had threatened before lurked in the shadows, and when he established a casual tempo to fuck me, the orgasm stepped onto the scene. It almost kept me from noticing he’d picked up his phone and started recording again.

  I was going to have to watch the video at some point. The concept of him sliding his dick in and out of me while my hands were pinned behind my back . . . Hot. His hips thrust into me faster, slamming against my rear and beckoning the orgasm to come closer.

  “Logan,” I cried out.

  “Come for me. Come on my cock.”

  “I’m . . . coming, oh shit.” Pleasure slammed into me with each of his relentless thrusts. The alcohol lowered my inhibitions enough that I didn’t care how loud I was being or the fact that he was videoing such a powerful orgasm.

  Eventually he slowed to a halt, but it had nothing to do with letting me recover and everything to do with the bottle of lube he scooped up, not breaking our connection. My heart raced, pounding like a hammer in my chest.

  “Let’s see how you like my supplies,” he said. The phone landed with a soft thump up on his pillow, and I turned over my shoulder to watch him uncap the small clear bottle with a baby blue top. He held it high over me, letting it drip . . . Drip . . . Drip . . . and it ran down my crack.

  “Oh my god,” I murmured into the comforter. My cheek flattened the fabric beneath it and I shut my eyes, enjoying the sensation. Holy shit. He returned to fucking me, and the lube continues it slow, silky, wet path down between us, and further down between my thighs.

  The only downside was it made a rather unsexy suction noise, but it was interrupted moments later by a hum. His arms were around me, one hand exploring the bare skin just in front of our union, and the other bringing the vibrator closer until he could set it against me. The vibration teasing my skin was sinful. My whole body sang.

  “Oh my god,” I repeated. My brain emptied and I couldn’t find any
thing else to say.

  “You seem to like that. But what if I do this?”

  The vibration began to travel. It drew a path over my hip, around the curve of my body until it was barely below the small of my back. He traced the tip of it down between my cheeks, using a hand to pull one to the side.

  My breath caught in my throat. That was why he’d bought a small one. He wanted to use it there. He circled the rosy ring between my cheeks, my whole body vibrating.

  “Do you want the handcuffs off?”

  Already my arms were beginning to feel uncomfortable, but I shook my head, unable to speak. Anticipation made it impossible. He stayed inside me, unbelievably hard but unmoving. I closed my eyes shut tight, and felt pressure. More pressure and the burning sensation that was becoming familiar from the times he’d crept inside. I bit my lip. My body wanted to push back against it, to expel the intrusion. Yet the indecent side of my brain whispered to wait. To let him show me something new.

  “How much is it in?” I asked.

  “About an inch.”

  What? It felt like a foot. He pushed a little further, and I inhaled a deep breath.

  “Does it feel better when I do this?” He began to move it back and forth, easing it almost out and then in.

  “No, not—”

  Wait a minute. My body stopped fighting as much with the movement, and as the vibrator gained ground, so did the concept that this could be pleasurable. “That’s . . . it kind of feels good.”

  “Do you want me to go deeper?”

  I could do this. Hell, I could like this. Every small pass he made was more enjoyable than the last. “Yeah.”

  It continued like this, an inch at a time until he had worked all five inches in and out of my ass. He didn’t move fast, and he watched me intently for any signal to stop. I wasn’t going to stop him. The complete fullness in my body wasn’t like anything I’d experienced before.

  “Do you like it?” His voice was a whisper.

  “I . . . do.”

  “Good.”

  Ever so slowly, he withdrew his hard dick from within me, like he wanted me to focus on the vibrator alone. It continued to move. Continued to feel better and better. He knelt behind me, his mouth working its way up the back of my thigh until it was buried in my pussy.