Three Guilty Pleasures (Blindfold Club 6)

Now that I was sitting on him, his cock was pressed between my pussy and his stomach, and it meant he had full use of his hands. He seized my hips and directed me to rock on him.

The new position changed the sensation, and not in a bad way. I could feel more of him. The pressure was greater. I no longer had to hold still.

With this new freedom, I went wild. I ground my body on him, like I was trying to map his cock with my clit. He filled his hands with my breasts, sucking and biting at me while groans rumbled from his chest.

I humped him, squeezing my ass, flexing my thighs, doing whatever it took to get the speed my body desired to help get me off. I risked a glance down at his chest and saw the glistening head of his dick peek out between my pussy lips as I slid over him.

The sight was too much. My orgasm had seemed near, but it suddenly was right upon me. “I’m going to come.”

“Fuck, do it,” he encouraged, his voice rasping. This sexual act was taking its toll on him. The muscles in his neck were strained. Was he about to come too, but holding back for me?

A cry pealed from my throat as ecstasy slammed into me. I tried to stop riding him while the bliss rushed through, my clit overly sensitive, but Grant wouldn’t have it. He clamped his hands on my waist and jerked me forward and back, heaving me over his cock.

Then he shuddered and let loose an enormous groan, his body jerking below me. Strands of cum shot out, flicking over his stomach and splattering his chest in short spurts. It was so fucking sexy, it prolonged my orgasm. I could feel every throb and jerk of his cock against me, and it gave aftershocks of pleasure.

One gasped breath, followed by another, and we began to calm. We hadn’t had penetrative sex, but used all of the same muscles, and felt spent. Grant reached up to cradle my face in his hands and pulled me down so I was leaning over him, my hair falling into his face, into our kiss.

As he tasted me, brushing his lips over mine, he put a hand on my wrist and worked the knot free, releasing me. I rolled off to lie beside him, undid the other knot, and propped my head up with an elbow on the mattress.

“No applause this time?” he asked, casting his gaze up to the ceiling.

“They’re not home. Brad and Hector went out for a game night with their friends.”

“Well, they missed out, then, because we were bloody brilliant.”

I grinned so wide, it made my cheeks hurt. “You want to stay the night? We can repeat the performance in the morning for them.”

He rolled his head on the pillow toward me. “Sleeping together is against the rules.”

“Not actual sleeping.”

He liked my offer a lot, judging by his expression.

He climbed out of my bed, strode into the bathroo

m, and grabbed a handful of Kleenex to wipe himself off. When it was done, he made his way back to me, but hesitated as he reached to pull back the covers. “Are you going to be able to control yourself, or do I need to tie you up again?”

I scoffed. “We’ll be fine.” But then I thought about it. I was satisfied now, and he was temporarily out of commission, but tomorrow morning he’d likely wake up ready to go. And I was always ready to go. I pressed my lips into a thin line. “Okay, maybe you should put your underwear back on. Just to be safe.”

He smirked, and it was that moment I realized how much I was willing to risk for him. I’d give up the arrangement with Silas and Regan if he wanted that. I’d do it in a heartbeat.

And if he wanted me to give up the blindfold club . . .

I was beginning to believe I’d do that too. Anything to keep him.

-23-

Grant

I wasn’t ready to play the song for Tara until Wednesday, and even then, I was more nervous than ever. I’d practiced it a hundred times, first with the metronome, then my lesson with Stan Fredrick, and finally with Francine’s piano recording.

Something wasn’t right. I was missing the spark I usually had when I played, where I commanded the bow across the strings. Now I fought the music, struggled with finger placement. Currently, the song was making me its bitch, and unease twisted in my gut.

This performance was important to Tara . . . and she was important to me.

When I played for her, I wanted her to look at me the same way she had all the other times. I’d never seduced a woman with my music before. Tara had watched me play my cello with a dreamy expression on her face and desire burning in her eyes.

Her performance had a similar effect. Seeing her dance? The way she moved her body ensnared me to the point I couldn’t do anything but watch. It made my heart stop.