Orgasming with guys was sometimes difficult. I didn’t like to lose control, and I had a hard time letting go. Giving in to a moment of vulnerability always opened the door for emotions, most of which I didn’t want to have. Try as I might to be a tomboy, I was still a woman. The need for connection on a higher level than just a physical one lurked in the shadows of my damaged heart.

No, I steeled myself as I began to come down from the euphoria. You will not get attached. Attachment brought hurt and disappointment, and I couldn’t stomach any more right now.

His hands ceased moving on me, but stayed. My breathing grew steady and even, and the blood rushing through my ears was quiet again, so the only sound was the music wafting in the open space around us.

“I want you inside me,” I whispered, and it narrowly avoided sounding like a plea.

Chapter

ELEVEN

Silas moved like I’d cracked a whip. His support was gone so fast, I fell backward onto the rug. But his hand was there to catch my head and stop me so I didn’t slam against the ground. He lowered me the last inch and then shot to his feet, moving with purpose off the backdrop and disappearing into the dark beyond the lights.

There was rustling as he dug in his discarded pants, no doubt for a condom, and then he stepped into view. Gloriously naked, and my head clouded and swirled with lust. I flinched when the unopened condom wrapper smacked onto my belly.

“Get that open,” he ordered, dropping down to his knees on the rug between my bent legs. His rough hands were on the insides of my knees. He wanted me to open the condom for him? Annoyance flamed and heated my face. Like I was about to service him? He could open his own fucking condom—

“What are you doing?” I gasped.

His hands had coursed up my thighs and spread me wide open to him, and he sank down to the rug. He couldn’t open his condom because he was about to be too busy going down on me. My back bowed off the rug and I seized his head in my hands, tangling my fingers in the strands of his long hair.

All the air drained from my lungs as his tongue tasted me.

Oh my fucking God. He was good with his hands, and even better with his tongue. I got dizzy from how hard he had me breathing, and under the lights, I began to sweat. His tongue fluttered and massaged. A panicked moan escaped from my lips as I writhed. Jesus. He made my legs shake.

“Fuck me,” I cried.

He paused just so he could speak. “I am fucking you.” And then he was right back at it. His intense gaze watched mine as his tongue licked and stroked. The image of him on his knees, his mouth covering my pussy, was hot as sin. He lifted up just enough so I could watch his pink tongue trail over the most intimate part of me.

Control was slipping from my fingers faster than the locks of his soft hair, and I placed a trembling hand over my lips to stay quiet. What was I supposed to do? Come again for him? I wasn’t even touching him other than my fingers threaded on his head. I wanted to give pleasure as well. My greedy body had no problem with this plan, though. The thirst for another orgasm was growing every passing second. With every caress of his mouth.

“Please,” I begged. I couldn’t help it, and I wouldn’t feel shame over asking for what I wanted.

His pointed attention went to the condom that rode untouched on my quaking stomach. “I gave you one job, Regan,” he teased. There was another flash of his tongue as he licked. “I’ll have to keep doing this until you’ve got something for me to put on.”

I snatched the condom up as fast as humanly possible and tore it open. He was up in a heartbeat. Maybe he was right at the edge like I was, but concealing it better. He yanked the condom from the wrapper and rolled it down his length. I’d gotten up on my elbows and attempted to sit up, but he crushed me with his heavy weight, flattening me to the rug.

Missionary wasn’t the most submissive position, but it was a close second. I would have preferred to be on top, but when the tip of his cock nudged between my legs . . . yeah, didn’t care anymore.

I cradled his hips with my thighs, wanting to control his descent into me. He had the bulk of his weight braced on his forearms that trapped my head, his fingers curling into my hair, like he wanted to hold me in place. He was radiating heat, and his damp skin pressed against my chest.

His eyes focused on my mouth, and studied it like the most fascinating secrets might pour out of it any second. Then his forehead rested against mine, giving me nowhere else to look but at him. It was . . . shockingly intense. My lips rounded into a silent O as his cock pushed forward, creeping inside.

As he intruded, a pleasurable but tight feeling of being full came with it, and instinctively I tried to back off of him. Yet there was no escape. When the slightest noise of discomfort came from me, he went rigid.

“Okay?” he whispered.

Concern was such a strange emotion. I barely knew him, and most of what he knew about me were lies. Or half-truths, which were essentially the same. It made me uncomfortable when others showed concern. Even Shane’s worried looks left me feeling uneasy.

And Silas was dominating in both presence and personality, so I hadn’t expected him to freeze. What difference did it make to him if I wasn’t enjoying the first moment his enormous cock pressing inside me? I’d get used to it.

“I’m okay,” I said. Being with him disoriented me and must have shut down my common sense. “I like it a little rough anyway.”

His expression went blank. Fuck, why did I just say that? What a great way to make things awkward. It was the truth, but one I hadn’t admitted to another soul. At least, I believed it was true. Watching the Doms at the blind

fold club had started a fire in me I couldn’t get back under control. Why not go all the way and tell Silas I was the one who wanted to be rough?

“That’s interesting,” he said finally.

Tags: Nikki Sloane Blindfold Club Erotic
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