“Shit.” It was a pleasure-soaked groan from him. He was impressively hard against the fly of his jeans.

“Should I not be doing this?” I mocked. My fingers fumbled over the snap of his pants, popping it open.

He blew out a long breath, and his body began to lift away from mine, taking his heat away. “No, we shouldn’t . . . Fuck—”

I sat up right along with him, not letting him escape. In my haste, I skipped over dropping the zipper and shoved my hand inside his pants, where it was a tight fucking fit, but I made it work. He was up on his knees and his eyelids dropped to half-closed while he shuddered in my grip. My touch seemed to instantly change his mind.

“Goddamnit.” His hand worked the zipper to give me more room. Then his thick fingers closed around mine, wrapping our hands together around his long cock, sheathed beneath his patterned boxers. He squeezed down, showing how much pressure he wanted.

It was so hot.

“Take off your shirt,” I ordered.

He gave me a dark look that was colored with sin. He didn’t move to do as I’d demanded. His only movement was to guide my hand to stroke harder.

“Take me out,” he commanded.

I continued to allow him to rub my hand along his thick length, but I lifted my eyebrow into an arch. “Why should I? You didn’t do what I asked.”

Oh shit, he could move fast. He was a blur as he whipped off the t-shirt and threw it aside as if pissed. My hand froze, distracted by the vibrant colors on his skin, spreading all across his chest and down his shoulders. There was so much to look at, it was overwhelming.

“Focus,” he ordered. I was sure he meant it teasing, but in his urgency, the truth spilled out.

I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth to stifle the grin. My hands dove under the waistband of his boxers and lowered the elastic until his cock leaped free.

My mouth went slack. “Oh, Christ.”

He.

Was.

Enormous. And pierced.

“You want to lodge a complaint?” His expression was smug.

“No, thanks.” But I would need to use both hands. I wrapped one at the base and the other on the head, and began to slide them together on him.

It drew a long, loud breath from his lungs. I studied his tattoos as my hands gripped and pumped. It was one large tattoo, sectioned into smaller parts. Like mini-scenes amongst a whole story, and a moving picture since he was breathing heavy. A steel ball gleamed at the tip of his cock, and a matching one at the head, right where the slit began.

“Regan.” His hands seized my wrists, stopping me. “Shit, let’s . . . put this on pause.”

I twisted my face into a dubious look. “You want me to stop?”

“I said pause.” His voice was strained. “Jesus, I can’t think when you’re topless,” he whispered. “Or with your hands on me.”

“What about in my mouth?”

His face went blank, and I used the opportunity to lean forward, bringing my lips to the tip of his cock, running my tongue over the piece of jewelry. I put a hand on his hip so he wouldn’t back away, held him steady, and closed my mouth around the head.

A panicked noise crept out of him as I sank down, followed instantly by a sigh of pleasure. I couldn’t get him that far in, and it was awkward hunched over, but I cupped my hand into a C and slid it along with my lips.

Both of his hands were in my hair. The intent seemed to be to stop me, but it was already too late to refuse. His fingers curled into fists, tugging on the strands. Tugging me back, and then forward, picking up the pace. It was supposed to be my pace, not his, but I let it go. He hadn’t been on board with the blowjob until it’d started.

He was one million percent on board now. His hips thrust in time with my movements. My hair was pushed back so he could see what I was doing. It sounded like he was struggling to stay quiet, and losing the battle. A low moan rumbled from him.

Even while I was getting face-fucked, I was aware of my surroundings. The electronic chime sounded on the front door, and heavy footsteps pounded in.

“Hey,” a male voice said. “Did Silas come by?”

Tags: Nikki Sloane Blindfold Club Erotic
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