Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club 4)

This was a big line to cross. No going back.

She startled as my hands touched her knees. I skimmed my fingers along her soft, smooth skin, moving bit by bit to her center, and once again her breathing went shallow. Sex clung in the air, thick as fog, as I lowered into her.

“Mmm,” Tara moaned through pressed lips when my fingers spread her open and my breath rolled over her sensitized skin.

“I’m going to lick this pussy.” My voice went deep and husky. I’d said it as a test to try to get her to speak, but she didn’t say a word. I leaned in the last crucial inch, and touched my lips to her.

The ribbons holding her in place snapped and went taut as she jolted and inhaled. She was a sensitive girl. I’d seen clients wring orgasms from her easily with their tongues, so I knew I’d have to dial back, otherwise she’d come in just a few strokes.

She tasted . . . good. Salty, and sort of sweet, and my tongue flitted over her, lapping at her arousal. The chair creaked as Silas shifted in his seat. Was I blocking his view, or was he trying to get his dick out?

I sucked and nipped, then returned to focusing all of my energy on getting her close again. My tongue worked back and forth, sliding over the crease of skin that gave the most pleasure.

She panted. Her back arched, then slammed down on the table. But I couldn’t ignore that she was squirming, and it felt too much like she was trying to lead me, so I drew away.

She wasn’t able to stifle her complaint this time, and the frustrated noise was a loud whine. All it did was send more power flooding through me and I savored the taste. She looked amazing spread out, her pale skin contrasting against the black leather. I wiped a hand on my mouth and turned to face him, peeling my jacket off my shoulders.

Silas was breathing like he’d just sprinted a mile and looked drunk with lust.

I grinned. Why did this turn me on so badly? It was impossibly erotic. “Is it too quiet for you?”

“No.” His tone was dark and wicked. “There’s plenty to listen to.”

There definitely was. Her labored breathing echoed in the room, slowing from its frantic rate. I paced to the door and hung the jacket on the hook, over her silk robe. Then, I went to her again, satisfied I’d walked her back from the cliff, and began her journey upward once more. This time I used both my hand and my mouth. Tara cried out, her head buried into the side of her arm.

“Don’t you dare come,” I ordered, but continued to fuck her. Her pussy was soft as velvet against my tongue, and drenching on my fingers. The muscles in Tara’s lower body clenched and strained, holding the swell of pleasure back, but judging by her tremors, it was a losing battle.

“Please,” she whispered.

Finally.

Chapter

FOURTEEN

I snatched up the crop and slapped it against Tara’s inner thigh, the sound punctuating the quiet like a gun retort. She jerked and gasped against the strike.

“Please,” she cried again.

I struck her on the opposite side, harder this time, and watched the red flush bloom on her skin. She moaned, but it wasn’t in pain. Her petal pink lips were parted, and what could be seen of her expression with the blindfold on was clearly bliss.

“Please.”

I wasn’t sure what she was asking for anymore. To come, or for another lash, or maybe both. My hand tightened on the grip of the riding crop and I swung, the tip landing right against her clit. I’d been careful not to put too much into the action. I’d overheard Joseph training a Dom once, and he’d instructed the man to let the instrument do the work.

Tara cried out and bit down hard on her bottom lip. Her body erupted upward, scrambling to run from the sting I’d inflicted on her, even as it was too late.

Christ, I felt more alive than ever, but my voice was harsh. “I told you not to speak unless I asked a question. Didn’t I make that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she blurted out. “I mean, ma’am.”

Her slip-up set me on fire. In her hazy mind, she saw me as a Dom, or equal to one, and I fucking loved it. I dropped the stick into the drawer with a loud clatter, stormed to the other end of the table, and set about undoing the straps from their anchors.

My gaze went up to the chandelier. I kicked off my heels as my hands tore at the straps and pulled them free.

“Up.” I gathered the straps in one hand and yanked on them, tugging her hands up toward the ceiling.

There were hooks hidden in the intricate light fixture, and it was anchored strong enough to support more weight than a full-grown man. I hiked up my skirt and buried a knee into the leather cushion as I climbed onto the table.