Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club 4)

“Oh, God, Regan—”

“Be quiet.” My tone was sharp as a knife and she winced, but it got her hot. Her chest heaved, and I was barely touching her. “You don’t speak unless I ask you a question. Understood?”

She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ma’am. The shift into her submission role happened in a blink of an eye.

“That’s very proper and respectful,” the dark force inside me said. “Let’s see if you can keep it up.”

I’d just laid my first rule on her, so I needed to be ready if she broke it or chose to ignore the command. There were tools in the drawers beneath the table. Whips, crops, paddles . . . The implements shifted noisily as I yanked the drawer open and found what I was looking for.

The thin pole was jet black and a small swatch of leather adorned the tip. It probably made barely a sound when it cut through the air. With the blindfold on, she wouldn’t see it coming, and even if it did make noise, there wouldn’t be time to tense or run from the strike. The crop was laid beside her on the table so it was easily in reach.

Her moan was deep, almost guttural, when I plunged my index finger all the way inside her pussy. She was like hot silk. Her body bore down on me, wordlessly asking me to thrust. Instead, I stared at Silas.

“Do you like watching?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Everything about him was . . . intense. His eyes, his expression, even his body language. He sat rigid on the chair, but somehow he still seemed powerful. As if he were a king on a throne, barely needing to speak, and yet his presence was felt by all.

My finger retreated and gradually slipped back inside her body until my knuckles were pressed against her damp skin. Tara issued a soft sigh. I moved my hand again, picking up my pace, and let her arousal coat my fingers.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I said. “And your pussy looks good enough to eat.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, probably to stay quiet. Silas made a tight noise, like a choked-back sound of excitement, and my lips tugged into a pleased smile. But I’d need to adjust her positioning so I would be comfortable, and he could watch from his seat.

“Move down to the edge of the table,” I ordered. “Spread those legs wide.”

Like all of the women at the club, Tara was bare everywhere below the neck. The leather cushion-top squealed as she slipped down until she was right at the edge. As I had commanded her, she opened her legs, bent her knees, and set her feet flat on the table. Her arms were straight, her bound wrists above her head and resting against the leather.

I’d never gone down on another woman, but I’d been curious, and I figured I wouldn’t be awful at it. I’d been the receiver enough times to know some tricks. Yet, I was still anxious. No, the dark voice in my head cried. I wasn’t going to allow doubt to get in my way. My motto with confidence was “fake it until you make it” and I’d apply it here and now to my role as scene top.

My heels were steady and sure as I walked to the end of the table and stepped up, keeping my body to one side so I wouldn’t block his view. I used two hands on her, my left palm flat where her slit began and my thumb on her clit, and two fingers from my right pushed inside.

Her gasp was full of appreciation, but mixed with need. Would she stay quiet as instructed? There was an itch deep inside me I wanted to scratch. I needed her to break this rule because I was so fucking desperate to know what would happen next. Would I enjoy delivering a correcting tap of the riding crop against her creamy skin?

When I moved my hands together, something that sounded like a word came from her lips, but it was mumbled. I snatched up the crop and touched the tip to the center of her chest, letting her feel the soft leather that could also generate a stinging burn if I wanted it to. I traced it between her breasts. It mapped a course over her heaving skin, down over her belly.

The crop was placed across her hips, my fingertips holding it in place. A warning to her.

I returned to my original task. My thumb rubbed across the tight bundle of nerves between her legs, while I fucked her with my hand, each thrust going deeper and harder. It was impossible not to think about the man I had my back to. What I was doing turned me on, but letting him see me like this . . .

No one else knew about this side of me. Certainly no one had seen it. Was he judging me? I glanced over my shoulder, hoping his expression wouldn’t fill me with shame.

By God, it didn’t.

His mouth hung open. His eyes were half-lidded with desire, and in his lap, a hand covered his erection. No, wait. It was moving. Silas glanced down at his stroking hand, then his gaze lifted back to mine, a hint

of a smile in the corner of his mouth.

“If you’d asked me yesterday,” he said between deep breaths, “if you could be any hotter, I would have said no. And I would have been really . . . fucking . . . wrong.”

Heat seared through me in the best possible way, waking up every last cell. I turned back to Tara while his approving words echoed in my mind. Her hips were moving to match my tempo and her breathing grew shallow. Her cherry-painted toenails curled as an orgasm approached.

Her displeased moan was swallowed when I stopped moving, leaving her unfulfilled. My job wasn’t just to give her pleasure, but to control it. I’d build her up to maximize the release, and it was far too soon for it. There was so much I wanted to do, and watching her get close was exciting.

I withdrew from her completely, letting her orgasm fade and leaving the crop resting there. I needed a moment to collect myself. It was important to pace it right, to make sure I didn’t get overwhelmed, and to focus on what I was about to do.