Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club #4) (23 page)

“Yeah. Did it work?”

I sighed. My voice was less confident than I liked. “Maybe. But don’t pull this shit again.” I pushed off the table and marched toward my coat.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m still pissed. I can’t just turn that off.” The angry rap music wasn’t helping either.

He moved quickly, standing in my way, his dark hands held up to stop me. “Stay. It’ll be more fun to be angry here than wherever you’re planning to go.”

“Is that right?” My tone was laced with sarcasm.

“Come on, let’s get naked.” The playful expression morphed into something dark and wicked. “You first.”

“Nice sales pitch, but I think I’ll pass.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in an evil smile as he marched up to me and his shadow blocked the light. “No, I don’t think you will.”

Now I was thoroughly annoyed. “Why’s that?”

“I think you want this almost as badly as I do, Regan. You’re going to take your clothes off because I’m putting my hands on your fucking body in a few seconds, and you don’t want me to ruin your clothes.”

He left me standing there in surprise and went back to the table. He picked up the charcoal pencil and rubbed it between his palms, covering his hands with even more black dust.

It was impossible to have friction without heat, and it flickered through my body, warming all the way down to my toes. He’d told me to take off my clothes, but again it was really a choice. I could stay as I was and call his bluff, do as he asked, or walk away.

What would those dark hands do? Would they leave perfect black handprints against my ivory skin? The image was too powerful to deny. I locked my gaze on him, only breaking it for a moment as I tore my sweater up over my head.

Lust made his eyes heavy as he watched me shed the plain white t-shirt and work the snap of my jeans. I tugged them off and tossed them to the floor with aggression. “Okay, done. Put your filthy goddamn hands on me.”

Fire flared so hot, it made the room scorching. He came at me, but I held my ground. His hands lifted to cup my face—wait, no. That wasn’t his intent. I inhaled sharply when he put both hands around my neck.

I fought the instinct to break his hold with a counter maneuver and deliver a strike to his solar plexus. There wasn’t any tension in his fingers as his hands wrapped around my neck, they simply rested there. It was dominating, but it was exciting, too.

When his hands released me, Silas made a noise of satisfaction. The sight of his black handprints on my neck obviously pleased him. My pulse sped to a million miles an hour. Did these handprints ringing my neck look like a collar? Like he owned me?

“The bra,” he said on a hurried breath. “Take it off.” He gazed at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d seen, and my hands moved instantly. The clasp was undone and I slipped the straps down my shoulders, letting the bra fall away. My exposed breasts felt heavy and aching for his touch, which he seemed eager to do.

He filled the weight of one in his hand, pressing his dark, rough palm against my pale skin. As he peeled his fingers away, we both looked down and admired the perfect gray handprint he’d left. God, it was sexy. He instantly did the other breast so I had a matching set.

“That looks fucking amazing,” he said. “Stay right like that.”

Silas fled to the sink and washed his hands as quickly as possible, sending soap and water droplets flying as he scrubbed furiously, and then dried off with a handful of paper towels.

His camera was tugged out of a bag, turned on, and settings were adjusted like he was being timed. He turned the camera sideways, and snapped portrait shots, moving swiftly my direction. “Turn so your back’s to the table,” he said. “Put your hands on the edge and lean back.”

I preferred to give the orders, but I didn’t mind it when I was in his artistic hands. I gripped the edge of the wood and arched my back, jutting my breasts up toward the ceiling.

“Perfect, just like that.”

I couldn’t hear the camera shutter over the rap music. The aggressive, dirty song had annoyed me at first, but now it lent itself to the atmosphere. It was intensely erotic.

When the song changed to a new one, and Silas had snapped several dozen pictures, I became impatient. He was down on a knee at my side, shooting at an upward angle, and my neck grew tired of holding my head back.

“Enough,” I ordered. The irritated emotions lingered and were ready to find an outlet.

He climbed to his feet so he towered over me, and his expression . . . it was raw and primal. “I’m not done. Get your ass on the table.”

I stared at him, brilliantly stunned. Did he have a death wish? “No.”

He leaned over and set the camera far across the table, safely away from both me and the edge, and then moved the canvas he’d been working on, sliding it to the side. Without warning, he stepped between my feet and scooped his hands under my ass, lifting me up. I was plunked down on the table, hard and with a loud thump. My mouth fell open and I prepared for fire to come spewing out of it.

There was plenty of fire in his expression already. Dark, and sexual.

And words failed me when he undid his belt, sliding it free from the loops. I sat, glued in place, as he coiled each end around a fist. My body tensed the split-second before he used it as a lasso behind my neck, but he’d done it simply to pull me into his devastating kiss.

I’d been yanked tight against him so my legs were wrapped around his waist. The tough fabric of his jeans teased me through my panties when he rubbed his erection against my clit.

He wanted to play like this? Great. I was game.

Chapter

SEVENTEEN

The belt went slack and fell from his hands. I pushed my breasts against Silas’s t-shirt clad chest and reached over his shoulder, grabbing a handful of cotton on his back, tugging the shirt over his head. He flung it away and came back to me hungry. He wrapped his hands on my wrists and placed my palms on his warm, tattooed skin.

The music, the situation, and his actions were the perfect storm to set me off. I dug my nails in and raked them down his chest, leaving pink track marks, adding to his patterns. The muscles in his jaw tightened and he grimaced, but a moody Silas was a hot-as-fuck Silas.

His grip on me strengthened. It was the only warning he gave me before lifting my wrists and slamming me back, pinning me to the tabletop.

“You want it rough?” he teasingly snarled in my ear. “Let’s do rough. I’ll fuck this pussy so hard you’ll feel my dick inside you for days.”

Holy shit. I turned my head to him and grinned like a fool. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He kissed me, but it wasn’t about connection. This was dominance and control, and so goddamn sexy. His lips were harsh and possessive, and at the end of it, he used his teeth, biting into my bottom lip. All the while his enormous hands held mine tight against the cool wooden veneer, keeping me locked in place beneath him. A desperate moan ripped from my throat. I was turned on so much it was painful.

Silas lifted up, and his fingers pressed hard on my skin. Could he feel my pulse racing beneath his fingertips? He drove me wild when he flashed a cocky grin. His pelvis swiveled, slamming his hard-on into me. I had to bite back the groan, not wanting him to see how crazy he made me. He had enough advantages already with his striking gray eyes and patterned ink.

“Your jeans are in my way,” I said, shifting my hips so I could rub on him.

“Your underwear’s in mine.”

He released my wrists, passed a hand over his hair to push it back, and then his fingers curled at the black silk covering my hips. Only he didn’t pull my panties down. His monstrous hands yanked furiously, muscles flexing over his knuckles as he ripped. I gasped at the aggressiveness, but also in discomfort. It wasn’t like in the movies where the fabric gave easily. The threads shredded through the silk, carrying me up until it finally tore free and I collapsed back onto the table with a loud bang. Silas dropped the destroyed scraps of fabric to the floor.

I was completely naked and vulnerable to him. His predatory gaze gave me chills as he stared at my body. He took his fill of looking, and then lunged forward, burying his face between my thighs.

“Oh, fuck, yes. Eat that pussy,” I ordered. My hand fisted his hair to lock him in position, and I began to move on him. Sliding my pussy on his face. Riding his magnificent tongue.

His hands were hooked around my thighs, his fingers splayed. He’d cleaned them, but they were still stained dark from the charcoal, and looked amazingly filthy against my skin. Although between the two of us, my filthy was on the inside and probably much worse than his.

His tongue darted over my clit and I inhaled sharply. Silas already had me tingling and my toes curling. He sucked at my clit, pulsing it between his lips and it wrung a moan from deep in my chest. Holy fuck, it felt so good. The tingling built with each lick, each swipe of his tongue until I was hopelessly out of breath.

“You like the taste . . . of my pussy?” I purred.

He moaned his approval, too busy fucking me with his mouth to use words.

“
Fuck
,” I whispered. My back arched off the wood and I clenched my hold on his head, writhing like a woman possessed. My legs shook as the orgasm advanced and overpowered, shutting everything down except for the blissful sensations.

And then I came.

I jerked and cried out, exploding with pleasure while his tongue continued its obscene assault. My eyes slammed closed as the climax rocked my body, stripping me bare until I was a quaking mess in his artistic hands, and only then did he slow to a stop.

My fingers curled around his as he righted himself. His eyes burned with intensity, like going down on me had only made his lust stronger. His need was dire. I reached for the zipper of his jeans but he stepped back.

“I gotta run upstairs and grab something.” It was clear he meant a condom.

“No, you don’t.”

He paused and surprise flashed through his expression. “I don’t?”

“I’ve got a condom in my purse.”

Something flitted through his eyes. Was that . . . disappointment? “Oh, okay,” he said, moving toward the desk where I’d deposited my stuff. He must have thought I was offering to go without.

I lifted up on my elbows. “Wait. I mean, unless you want to . . . I’m on the pill.”

He turned and opened his mouth as if to say something. But then it closed, like he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“After I caught Matt cheating, I got tested,” I added. “You don’t have any worries there.”

He stalked back toward me, a faint smile curling on his lips. “And you don’t either.”

“Except that I’m going to feel your dick inside me for days.”

His wide grin dripped with sex. “Yeah.”

“Get your fucking pants off, Silas.”

His hand shot out and gripped my throat, pressing me back down on the table. It was aggressive, but once again, he wasn’t trying to choke me. This was him asserting himself. I wrapped my hands on his wrist, giving the illusion that I was the one controlling his hand on me.

He set the index finger of his other hand on my lips, teasing the seam until I parted them and his finger pushed inside.

“Enjoy it. This is all you get to suck on tonight, mouth raper.”

As he stood between my thighs, I lay on the table and sucked his finger. I hollowed my cheeks out, while his other hand adjusted its grip on my neck. He was doing it on purpose, I was sure. Keeping me aware of where exactly his calloused palm was.

When my tongue swirled, something appeared to snap in Silas. His posture went tense, and the hand was abruptly gone from my throat. He yanked me up off the table so I was standing on my lust-woozy legs, and spun me in his arms. My hipbones smashed against the unforgiving edge of the table when he shoved me against it. Trapping me between him and the sturdy piece of furniture.

“You want this?” His hard-on dug into my ass and his fingers bit into the skin on the sides of my thighs.

“Yes.” Holy fuck, yes.

“You tell me if it’s too rough,” he said, his tone firm. “Or not rough enough.”

A delicious shiver glanced down my spine, but then all the air evaporated from my lungs when he pulled my elbows behind me. He twisted my arms and pinned my wrists together in the small of my back with one hand and shoved me face down into the wood. My bare breasts crushed against the cold table.

I could feel his free hand working his jeans, and heard his zipper drop. There was rustling as his pants slid down his legs. I tried to squirm out of his hold. My pulse kicked at the realization that I couldn’t break free if I wanted to. I’d have to trust him to stop if I asked for it.

Yeah, right, like that was going to happen. Every inch of my skin was awake and clamoring for his attention.

He used his feet to shove mine further apart, widening my stance. Then, the warm, damp head of his cock was slapped against my ass. His fingers delved in between my thighs and he gave an indecent chuckle. “You’re so fucking wet, it’s dripping down your legs.”