Three Little Mistakes (Blindfold Club 3)

Yes. I trembled, beyond ready for his touch. Soft lighting glowed from my kitchen, and it made Joseph look darker. Rougher. His hard edge grew in the shadows of his gorgeous face. It was fascinating.

Cool hands locked onto my waist, slipped to the back, and traveled down. I gasped when one of those hands grabbed the back of my underwear and yanked up. Hard. It forced the lace deep in my cleft and between my cheeks, an uncomfortable feeling like he was going to split me in two.

“You seem to have forgotten your place, little girl,” he said. “Who’s in charge here?”

My hands fell on his chest, balling his shirt into my fists. “You, Sir. You’re in charge.”

“Who do you belong to, Noemi? Who owns this pretty, little ass?”

He yanked so hard on the underwear I heard stitches ripping, and I rose up onto the balls of my feet to get relief. It catapulted me into his arms.

“You, Sir,” I cried.

His mouth slammed against mine. Oh my God, it was so hot. He kissed me like he both hated and loved me, and I clung to him, unable to stand on my own. His untamed kiss was paralyzing yet freeing, a contradiction I was beginning to love. Sinking into him relieved me of choices and decisions. All I had to do was submit and feel.

His rough hands released and shoved me so I stumbled backward.

“I’m going to make sure you don’t forget.” His angry, aggressive tone paled in comparison to his actions. He undid his belt and pulled the leather strap free from the loops in one swift motion.

Oh my God. Oh, shit.

I was sure when I was little I’d been spanked when I was bad, but never anything serious. My father’s approach had been subtle. Telling me he was disappointed was far more effective that corporal punishment. An invisible hand squeezed me and made my lungs useless as Joseph folded the belt in half.

“Are you going to hit me with that?” I asked, barely a whisper.

“It depends,” he folded the strap in half again, “entirely on you. Open your mouth.”

It was easy enough. It was hanging open anyway. He took the folded belt and shoved it between my lips. The smell of leather invaded my nose and the taste was bitter.

“Bite down,” he ordered. My teeth closed on the soft leather. “Good.” Fingers burrowed under the lace and pulled my panties down. Once again I was stark naked and he was fully clothed . . . except for the belt he’d shoved in my mouth.

He walked me around so I was facing the front of the couch and guided me forward. I had to put my knees on the couch cushions.

“Lean over the back of the couch.” A hand pressed in my back, urging me into position. “You keep that belt right where I put it. If you drop it or use your hands, Noemi, that’s you giving me permission to use it however I want.”

I shuddered with anticipation. How did he want it? I imagined it slapping against my pale skin. What would that feel like? Why did I want to know? Already my jaw ached from clenching, my lips were uncomfortable, and saliva pooled in my mouth.

His hands gripped my ass that was up, as if presented to him, since my elbows were on the back of the couch.

“We’re going to find a limit today, baby girl. I’ll take you right to the edge and nudge you over.”

Fingers caressed down my slit, brushing over where I hurt for him, and I moaned against the leather. The finger intruded, just the tiniest bit inside, and stopped. I waited for him to do something, but he remained motionless. I pushed my hips back, taking it deeper.

“So eager,” he said. “All right, go on. Fuck my fingers, slut.”

Two fingers shoved inside me and I had to draw in my breath through my nose. The slut comment was shockingly thrilling. I wasn’t a slut for anyone but him.

I worked my body on his fingers, riding them slow at first, but it did nothing to satisfy the heat inside. I wanted more. I needed more, yet I couldn’t ask for it. If I tried to talk, the belt might fall from my teeth, and then . . . what? Did I want that to happen? Yes, a dark part of me answered.

The fingers abruptly retreated from my body, and I moaned at the broken connection. Joseph grabbed his coat and dug in one of the pockets, pulling out a black drawstring pouch.

“You’ll wear this whenever I tell you to, but we’ll see how it fits right now.”

I blinked at the small bag, confused. What could I wear that would fit in something so small? He opened the bag and dumped a silver object into his hand. It was shaped sort of like an acorn, with a thin stem that grew to a wide, jeweled disk.

Last week I wouldn’t have known what it was, but I did now. I’d seen plenty of them on Tumblr. My teeth dug harder into the leather strap as Joseph disappeared from view. I was going to leave marks on his belt, but he’d probably like that.

The oh-so-annoying tremble began in my legs when his hand touched the small of my back. His softly calloused hand trailed down.