Free Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) by Nikki Sloane Page B

me to lean back, to lie on the counter, his hand brushing over my breast as I went. But I only went back so far, staying up on my elbows.
    He tugged my skirt to my hips, working it up slowly and methodically as he licked his lips, and gave me a view of the tongue that had me practically begging for him on that table. Oh, fuck.
    “You want to watch?” He had a wicked look in his eyes.
    The shy girl I had once been was nowhere. I’d destroyed her when I marched into Logan’s office earlier this week. Who’d have guessed I’d end up here, enjoying my punishment?
    “I didn’t get to watch last time.”
    He didn’t take my panties off. His fingers traced the seam just inside my thigh and pulled the fabric to the side. Then he bent down, set my legs on his shoulders, and kissed me right where I wanted him to. Logan’s eyes fell shut like he was savoring me. He slipped his tongue through my flesh, used his hands to spread me open, and licked. Intense, delicious heat spread from it. It was addicting. He was addicting.
    Watching him feast on me was exquisite torture. I had to fight for each breath when he opened his eyes and checked to see if I were still viewing the show.
    “I’m going to come,” I half-pleaded.
    “No, you’re not.”
    My elbows gave out, and my back was cold against the granite, Logan not relenting or giving permission. Need clawed inside me and screamed for release. I had to focus elsewhere. Fucking anywhere else. Do not think about the tongue lapping at you . My head fell to one side and I latched onto the first thing I saw.
    A framed poster on the wall. It wasn’t an artistic photograph or reproduction of famous artwork. It was an advertisement for a sports car. I’d worked with him long enough to recognize his style anywhere.
    “When did you . . .” No, no questions. God only knows what kind of delicious punishment he’d give me right now. “I’ve never seen that one before. It’s amazing.”
    He lifted for a split second to see what I was talking about, and his eyes softened with the compliment. “I did it right before you started.” When his head dipped back down, I grabbed a fistful of his soft hair, tunneling my fingers through it.
    It was like my praise lit a match inside him, for he was much more intense and urgent, somehow as desperate for the orgasm as I was. He put one long finger inside me and curled it back, quickly finding the spot that would send me tumbling out of control.
    “Please, I need to. . .” I gasped.
    “Say my name when you do it.”
    Pleasure slammed into me, burning across my skin, across every nerve. I jerked and my knee sent one of the wine glasses plummeting to the tile floor, followed by the sound of glass shattering.
    I think I would have screamed his name regardless of his demand.
    “You know, I have neighbors,” he teased, releasing his hold on my panties, and they snapped back in place.
    I fought to return to earth. “Sorry about the glass.”
    His strong hand closed around one of my wrists and he helped me sit up. “Don’t worry about it, that’s my fault for letting you come.”
    “For letting me . . .” Shit, phrase it as a statement. It was like some twisted version of Jeopardy. “You say that like you don’t want it to happen.”
    His hand threaded into my hair and pulled back, tilting my head up to him. “I’d prefer it if you only came on my cock.”
    It could have been his words or the recent orgasm, but I shuddered.
    “Would you like that?” His face was seductive and powerful. “To come on my cock again?”
    I didn’t have to do this; I’d made the money I needed to. I could leave the envelope with my name scrawled on it on his countertop since our business transaction was complete. I’d come home with him to get answers, but now I had a new goal. What he was asking . . . what my boss was asking, was if I wanted to sleep with him.
    “Yes.”
    Oh, fuck, yes.

chapter
    SEVEN
    He didn’t clean up the wine or the