Three Guilty Pleasures (Blindfold Club 6)

She flinched and jolted, knocking the ice from my grasp, but I was fine with abandoning the melting cube, because I replaced it with my tongue.

She bowed up, arching her tits into the air, crying out in surprise. Or perhaps enjoyment. I braced my hands on the inside of her thighs and spread her wider, settling in. Whatever plans I’d tried to make, they were pointless. Going down on this beautiful stranger was all I wanted to do.

Morgan’s betrayal made me feel inadequate, but I wasn’t, and I was desperate to reaffirm it. My curious nature meant I was good at learning new things, and that included in the bedroom.

I flicked my tongue over her, rolling and massaging, and smiled to myself as she quivered. The question was rhetorical, but I asked it anyway. “You like that?”

“Fuck, I do.” She moved against my lips, an active participant.

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nbsp; I spun a cartwheel with the tip of my tongue against her clit, and her thighs shook. Above me, she drew in deep gasps of air, strangling back louder moans. It would have been sexy no matter what, but here in this club and with our illicit deal, it made the act incendiary.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

Her shuddering was more pronounced as I picked up my intensity—

A sound rang out from behind us, jarring me. Had someone just opened the door? I turned to glance over my shoulder.

The redhead was there, one hand on the doorknob and a somber expression fixed on her face. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but can you join me in the hall? This will only take a minute.”

I wasn’t just embarrassed to be caught, my bones turned to lead. I straightened and ran my palm over my face as I cast a final look at the girl panting before me. I’d taken her right to the edge and now was going to leave her there.

Unless what the redhead said was true and I’d be back in a moment. Was there any chance the issue wasn’t with me? Doubtful. As I shuffled toward the doorway, the redhead’s expression was plain, but her eyes were sharp and angry.

There were two men waiting for me in the hall, Julius and the enormous bouncer who’d buzzed me in. Their faces were full of contempt.

Your cover is totally blown.

Despite the frosty atmosphere, I was able to sound easygoing. “Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, Mr. Kruger,” Julius said. “We’ve got a problem.”

A cold sweat broke out down my spine. He’d used my real name. “I can explain,” I started.

But he put his hand on my shoulder. The gesture might have seemed strangely friendly, but it wasn’t. First, his hand weighed a hundred pounds. Second, it was right beside my neck, and I was very aware of the proximity. His hand clamped on me was a power move, letting me know he was in control.

His tone was firm. “I don’t care why you lied. You need to understand what’s going to happen now.”

My heart banged in my chest, and I tightened my teeth together so hard, my jaw ached.

The redhead slid up beside him, her guarded gaze on me. “We know you work for Channel Five, and you came here to get a story.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “But you got distracted by what was on the table, didn’t you?”

“You knew who I was?”

Julius’s hand tensed, his fingers digging into my muscle, and I fought the urge to wince. I couldn’t blame him. My thoughtless question reinforced how I’d tried to deceive.

“We’re a private club,” he said, “with clients who like their privacy.”

“Do you think you’re the first reporter to come along?” she asked.

“What’s that phrase?” Julius’s deep voice brimmed with threat. “Catch and kill.”

Fucking fuck. I stopped breathing, and when I tried to take a step back, his grip on my shoulder reminded me I wasn’t going anywhere.

“This club, and the people here, are important to me. I’m going to protect them with all I got. You feel me?” He slid his free hand into the interior pocket of his suit coat, pulled out my phone, and shoved it painfully into my chest. “You don’t come here again. You don’t even think about this club again. You so much as say its name, and a copy of the video we took tonight is gonna wind up with someone you don’t want it to.”

“Like your boss,” the redhead added. “Or the Chicago police department.”