Read One More Rule: The Blindfold Club Novella Online
Authors: Nikki Sloane
One More Rule: The Blindfold Club Novella (13 page)
I couldn’t stop the grin at how he was breaking his own rules.
“What?” he said. “It’s a rental.”
“Okay, boss. I can pretend you’re not going to pick all that up later because it’s bothering you.”
He smirked. His hands busied themselves undoing his pants, and it showed off his impressive upper body. All sinewy muscles flexing under his smooth, tan skin. The pants fell off his hips, slid down, and he kicked them away. The black socks were tugged off and added to his pile.
Witnessing Logan in only a pair of black boxer briefs set my body on fire. I freed the comb that the veil was attached to from my hair and, following his lead, I dropped it to the floor.
“Come here.” It was a soft request from Logan, not a demand, and I went to him instantly. His hands swept over my skin, greedy to touch what he’d been denied. They plunged beneath the back of my panties, and he gripped a handful of flesh, driving me against his hard body.
“I love you,” he whispered between kisses, which grew reckless and frantic, and it was impossible not to match his intensity.
“I love you so much,” I answered back, clawing at his underwear.
It was a race to see who could get the other one naked first, but he won, of course. He lifted me up into his arms and stepped into the tub. A moment later he had the faucet shut off and the jets running, both of us sitting in the warm water. My back rested against his chest, while his strong arms held me, and his legs were wrapped around my waist.
There were tiny tugs at my hair. Was he . . .? I glanced over my shoulder and saw him set the bobby pin on the tile. Then, another. Shit, this man made everything sexy, even something as simple as helping me let my hair down. I grabbed his foot and pulled it into my lap, massaging the sole, and he issued a groan of approval.
We chatted about our morning apart, recapping our favorite moments from the day as he pulled the pins from my hair and I rubbed his tired feet. It wasn’t the type of intimacy I thought we’d share the moments after we came into the honeymoon suite, but it was wonderful. I loved the quiet moments with him just as much as the steamy, intense ones.
“I think I got them all,” he said. His fingertips drifted down my neck and he rubbed my shoulders as I combed my fingers through my hair, searching for any stragglers.
“Good . . . job,” I moaned. His hands were magic.
“What would you say if I told you we should get out so I could fuck my wife senseless?”
“I’d say I like the sound of that.”
“Hmm. I thought so.”
The jets were shut off and the water gurgled as he lifted the drain stop. I’d barely finished toweling off when he yanked the plush fabric from my hands and threw it to the ground. His expression was pure sexual hunger, only intensified in the candlelight. A gentle shove, and I was sprawled out beneath him on the bed.
“Look at you. All fucking gorgeous and so fucking mine.”
My lungs refused to work as he gripped his thick cock and stroked himself, his wedding band the only thing he wore. I couldn’t control myself. My fingers flew to my clit, touching myself.
“Oh, shit, Logan. I need you.”
He sank down to kneel and placed my knees on his shoulders. My body didn’t know how to react. I loved when he went down on me, but I was greedy and impatient. “No, please— God.” Then his tongue was inside me, and thought was too difficult. “Yes,
yes
.”
Velvety heat flicked on me, sending sparks radiating out and down my trembling legs. My moans were a mixture of satisfaction and whining, and they grew louder with each of Logan’s careful manipulations. Fire seared deep inside, and I bucked off the bed, seizing his head in my hands.
“Make love to me,” I cried. Every cell in me was quaking, and I worried I was going to vibrate apart. The only thing that could stop my uncontrollable trembling was if he brought us together.
The bed shifted as he launched to his feet, wiping his mouth with one hand and giving a final stroke to his rock-hard cock. He held himself steady and positioned himself right at the apex of my legs, rubbing the tip in my arousal.
“Green?” he teased.
“So fucking green. Please.
Please
.”
He pushed inside and I wanted to cry at how good it felt. The stretch the first time he moved in me was like nothing else. My legs tightened around his waist.
“Fuck, Evie. You feel amazing. So wet and so perfect.”
My eyes squeezed shut so I could better enjoy the sensations as he slid deep, all the way until I couldn’t take him any further. My hands clutched at his chest and he gripped them, linking our fingers together so he could hold my hands flat against the sheets.
His thrusts were slow and calculating. Each one seemed to hit a new spot that was better than the last. His mouth roved over my lips, my neck, and my breasts. I swallowed back a moan as he increased his pace. Spots danced in front of my vision as the orgasm closed in.
“Yellow,” I gasped.
I was sure I didn’t need to tell him; he knew my body better than I did sometimes. He knew exactly how much I could take, how much I needed.
“Did you . . . hear me?” I said between pants. He hadn’t eased up.
His voice and expression were authoritative. “I heard you.”
I fought against his hold. He needed to slow his roll or I’d come, which usually made him come. “Fuck. I’m gonna . . . oh, red. Red!”
“No, Evie. You’re not allowed.” And then his mouth was on mine, sealing me off from asking permission to come. It wasn’t a game we played while I’d imposed the rule, and with what he was doing to me, I’d forgotten all about it.
I turned my head away from him and my voice shook as I demanded it. “I need permission.”
“For what?” He whispered it in my ear, his tone coy.
“Permission to come.”
He sucked on the tender spot of my neck, just below my ear. He drove into me. This wasn’t lovemaking. He was owning my body now, and I lifted my hips up off the mattress, eager to meet him.
“Okay, Mrs. Stone. You have my permission to come.”
I let out a cry, or maybe a scream as it began. Sparks of pleasure burst, lifting me higher and higher, until I fell over the crest of bliss. My muscles tightened and strained against the sensations rolling through me. As the intensity of the orgasm began to fade, warmth washed from the tips of my toes upward.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck.” Logan’s curse words signaled the trigger had been pulled on his release. His right hand abandoned mine, and scooped beneath my neck, cradling my head. “Open your eyes.”
His damp forehead rested against mine and I followed his command.
Oh my God.
His fascinating eyes stared down into my soul as he shuddered. He came hard, and loudly. Every desperate gasp for breath was for me. The throbbing of his body inside mine . . . I’d never get enough of this. My connection to him was so strong, nothing could break it.
His skin, still damp from the bath, or perhaps slick with sweat, stuck to mine, but I didn’t care. For a long while we lay on the bed kissing and touching, enjoying each other.
“Want to make a deal?” I whispered.
“I’m listening.”
“You blow out all these candles and let me lie here, and I’ll blow you when you’re done.”
He twisted his mouth into a knowing smile. “Right. I’m sure you won’t be fast asleep when I get back here.”
I put my hand on his jaw, brushing my thumb over his lips. “I didn’t say when
specifically
I’d blow you.”
“New rule, then. Promised oral sex must be delivered in a timely fashion.”
I giggled. “No more rules, Logan.”
He rose up on an elbow and brushed a lock of my hair out of my eyes, his face going serious. “One more rule. We say ‘I love you’ every night before we fall asleep.”
It was something we already did, so I had no problem defining it this way. “Absolutely.”
“Don’t go breaking it, rule breaker.” He faked a strict, harsh look.
“Never, boss. I love you.”
“I love you too, Eve.” He pressed his lips to mine in a kiss full of passion. “More than you can even imagine.”
And since I knew how much I loved him, I could imagine a lot.
THANK YOU
To my husband. You're all the best parts of my heroes and then some.
To my editor Lori Whitwam for squeezing this project in. You make me feel like such a rockstar whenever I get your emails.
To my beta readers Robin Bateman, Keyanna Butler, Joscelyn Freeman Fussell, Rebecca Nebel, and Nikki Terrill for your great feedback and comments.
"I think he should slap her pussy here..."
To the fans of the Blindfold Club series (especially my Naughty Nymphs). Your support means the absolute world to me, and I can't thank you enough.
THE BLINDFOLD CLUB SERIES
THREE SIMPLE RULES
(Book 1)
I would do anything for my dream job. Now I have to.
In order to save my skin at the office, I'm forced to sell it at an exclusive and illegal blindfold club. He paid thousands of dollars for one night to own me, but when my blindfold comes off, I want more. More nights, more rules, and more from this unavailable and uncompromising man.
Rule number one, no questions. Rule number two, no lies. But, rule number three? That's the hardest one to obey.
THREE HARD LESSONS
(Book 2)
I am the woman men pay thousands of dollars to sleep with. I do what I love and what I'm so very good at.
Then he walks in and drops $30,000. He wants to talk. And kiss. And take me home.
In a single night, this man turns everything upside-down and has me breaking every rule I've lived by to keep men at a distance. I'm about to learn some lessons the hard way.
Don't tease him. Don't give him boundaries. And don't think you get a choice in who you love.
THREE LITTLE MISTAKES
(Book 3)
I sell sex, sin, and pleasure, but it isn’t just my business, it’s my entire life. I get off on the power of controlling it all.
She’s the one woman I can’t have.
She threatens everything, and yet I can’t stay away. There’s a beautiful, sexual creature inside this timid girl that’s desperate to claw its way out. I’m going to set it free, even if it brings my empire tumbling down.
I have to believe she’ll be worth all the little mistakes I’ve made.
THREE DIRTY SECRETS
(Book 4)
Anticipated release of January 2016.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, is married with two sons, writes both romantic suspense (under the name Karyn Lawrence) and dirty books, and couldn’t be any happier.
Find her on the web:
www.NikkiSloane.com
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Author Nikki Sloane
Contact her on Twitter:
@AuthorNSloane
Send her an email: [email protected]
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COPYRIGHT
Text copyright © 2015 by Nikki Sloane
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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