Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club #4) (9 page)

“I’d rather have your Magnum forty-four.”

He blinked. “My what?”

“Magnum . . .” I tried not to pant it. “Forty-four. Your cock’s too big to refer to as a small pistol.”

“Shit, you sound like my sister.”

What the fuck?
I ceased moving and my muscles locked up.

Silas’s expression turned to horror. “Whoa. That came out all kinds of wrong. I meant you sound like a cop.”

Chapter

EIGHT

His fingers were still inside me, but he too had stopped moving. I struggled to recover. “Your sister’s a cop?”

“Yeah. Well, kind of. She’s a U.S. Marshal.”

He’d introduced himself earlier as Silas Getty. I blinked as I evaluated what this meant. I didn’t work with the U.S. Marshals much. I’d helped them with a case in July, but it’d been indirectly. I’d never spoken with her, but I always paid attention when another woman advanced. Even in this day and age, the authoritarian branches of government were still a boys’ club. So it had been big news when Caroline Getty had been promoted to Chief Deputy. I’d heard she was tough as nails, and I’d felt tremendous pride she’d gotten the role.

The woman in charge of the Chicago Marshals was Silas’s sister? I couldn’t imagine she’d like a Fed fucking around with her brother, and she’d be even less thrilled about me being undercover during it.

His fingers began to move, bringing me back to the situation until I was painfully aware. My mind fought against it, but my body screamed for release. I moaned when the heel of his palm ground against my clit, and sparks of pleasure shot from his touch.

“How,” he asked, “does a cop end up working at Joseph’s club? That place isn’t exactly on the up-and-up.”

I was already busy thinking of how to deescalate the situation and couldn’t follow his question. “What?”

“You talk like a cop. You
act
like a cop.” His hand continued to thrust into me. In, and out, at a pace the illogical side of me thought was so fucking good.

“I’m . . . an accountant.” This wasn’t a lie. I’d gotten my degree in accounting. “Not a cop. What do you mean I act like one?”

He was back to staring at my mouth again, the same lust glazing his eyes. “I grew up in a family of cops, so I notice the little things, same as you.”

He dipped his head down. His cheek was against mine, and he began to drag the sharp edges of his scruff across my skin, making his way toward my lips. I inhaled sharply at the sensation, but all that did was make him harder to resist. He smelled good, like soap and pine.

His voice was soft but confident. “Like how you evaluate the room. I bet you can tell me where all the exits are.” He kissed the corner of my mouth, pumping his fingers inside my panties. “It’s your eyes. They’re always moving.” I shuddered as an orgasm began to threaten. “You’ve got cop eyes.”

“I’m not a cop.” I turned my head away from his and buried it in my arm. It probably made me look guilty, but I didn’t like the idea of coming while he was studying me. I’d shown him enough vulnerability today.

It’s not like I could tell him the full truth. I’d sought Silas on Joseph’s recommendation. Even though Joseph didn’t run the club anymore, it’d take all of a second for my cover to be blown to shit.

I knew I should stop Silas, but my greedy body overruled it. Instead, I moved to match his strokes. I let my pussy bear down on his fingers, trying to pull him deeper inside. I wanted him to yank my pants down, shove his cock inside me, and take me to oblivion. Since I’d turned away, he took to kissing my neck. A line of goosebumps lifted in eager response. Hell, every part of me wanted to be closer to him.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered. Oh, how the tables had turned.

His fingers retreated, but only so he could focus them directly on my clit, manipulating it with skill. My legs trembled and his grip on my wrists became support, rather than restraint. I sank my teeth into the soft muscle of my own arm, trying to keep quiet. Struggling not to come. Because if I came, I’d feel obligated to return the favor, and I should end this before it was too late.

Yet I couldn’t form the words.

“You want me to stop?” He asked it, genuinely confused.

“This is a bad idea.”

“That’s not an answer.” His hand withdrew and settled on my hip, right where my jeans sat, his wet fingers brushing over my bare skin above. “Look at me.”

I turned my glare his direction. I was annoyed he’d stopped, annoyed with the situation . . . and so sexually frustrated I could barely breathe. His expression was serious, but no less attractive.

“I’m asking if you want me to stop.”

The correct answer was
yes
, but I went with the honest one instead. “No.”

He fisted one side of my jeans and tugged them down over a hipbone. I brought my legs closer together as he hurried to the other side to repeat the action until the top of my jeans and panties were pushed down below my ass. Out of his way so I was exposed to him.

I buckled and sagged into his hold when he touched me freely. His unhindered fingers stirred over the bundle of nerves that were throbbing and the orgasm got back on track. My eyelids fluttered shut.

“No,” he growled. “Those cop eyes stay open and on me.”

God, I was dripping wet between my legs and he took full advantage. His fat fingers spread it around, teasing and tormenting me.

“Silas,” I moaned.

His expression was powerful and commanding, and my mouth dropped wide open when three fingers speared inside, so hard I had to lift up onto my toes to stay positioned on them comfortably. Wait, that wasn’t the right word. There was nothing comfortable about it. Sexy, yes. Hot, fuck, yes. But comfortable? No.

He darted a glance down to watch my gyrating body moving on him, then his gaze returned to meet mine. Holy shit, he looked wild and animalistic, and so fucking gorgeous. The trembles in my legs swept upward, consuming all of my body, shaking the last of the air from my lungs.

Could he tell I was about to come? Was this why his expression warmed into a conquering smile? I jerked my wrists, trying to break them free. “I don’t want to—”

“Yes,” he urged, his grip increasing in retaliation. “Yes. I want to watch you come just like this.”

I gave up hope of escaping. My body was locked and loaded, safety off. He just needed to pull the trigger. Even my bottom lip was trembling now.
Shit
. It was wrong what I was doing, but I convinced myself I needed it. Didn’t I deserve it after sitting for the needle?
As long as you don’t fuck him, it’s okay.

The stretch of his fingers inside me went away, and he trailed them up, sliding through my valley until he could rub viciously on my clit.

“Oh, oh,
oh
—”

Trigger pulled, and I exploded. The orgasm tore through me, every nerve ending firing bliss and heat. It swept along my frame, leaving me a convulsing, quaking mess against the wall. I wanted to sob in relief, but couldn’t. The tremendous release of tension left me unable to function.

All the while, Silas watched my mouth. His lips moved as he uttered something too quietly to be audible, but it looked very much like the word
fuck
. His carnal expression strengthened and abruptly the hand holding me was gone.

My legs were boneless in the aftermath of the spectacular orgasm, so when he let me go, I collapsed into him. My dead arms fell around his broad shoulders, and my head dropped forward into the crook of his neck. I breathed him in as his arms were around me, holding me. His chest was heaving, and I rode the rise and fall while I recovered.

“Jesus,” I muttered against the cotton of his t-shirt.

He said nothing. A hand stroked down the back of my head, smoothing my hair.

When my body was cooperating again, I pushed back on his shoulders and quickly moved to do up my pants.

“Regan.”

I shimmied the jeans back up over my hips and snapped the button closed. “Hmm?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

He didn’t appear too happy that I’d put my pants on, but it was so much safer this way. As soon as it was done, I wrapped both of my hands around one of his biceps and yanked hard. Christ, his arms were solid. I shoved him up against the wall, and his back collided hard with it.

His gaze went to the queen-sized mattress where a lumpy comforter spilled halfway off of it. “My bed—”

“Fuck the bed. You made me come against the wall.”

Whatever protest he was going to make faded when my hands gripped him through his jeans, and I scratched my nails across his fly. I lifted up on the balls of my feet and slammed my mouth against his, thrusting my tongue past his lips. His mouth was hot and soft, and in no time he matched my urgency. The slide of his tongue over mine hinted what it’d be like if I let him fuck me with it, and a fresh wave of bargaining stormed through my brain.
Let him go down on you. It’s just oral sex, not
real
sex, so still okay.

Goddamnit, no.

His hands found my breasts like they were magnetized to them. I loved his harsh, sure grip. Men treated my breasts like they were delicate and fragile, but shit, they weren’t balls. Fucking squeeze them. I liked it rough, and confident, which was exactly how he gave it to me.

He made no attempt to stop me when I undid his pants, and he stayed quiet when I worked them down. But when I followed his jeans’ descent and was on my knees before him, Silas’s eyes clouded with uncertainty.

Like any man, he wanted to fuck, but wasn’t about to turn down a blowjob either.

The kitchen bled into the living space, and we’d ended up right in the transition between them, so I knelt on the linoleum flooring and jerked his boxers down until they were wadded at his ankles like his jeans. His cock sprang free, already hard and huge.

His voice seemed strained with pleasure. “Shit.”

I covered him with both hands and squeezed. Hard, and harder, until I heard the low noise of discomfort that said I was right at the edge of what he could take. The column of flesh was firm and pulsing, but covered in soft skin, and decorated with the silver jewelry.

“Did this hurt?” I asked. “Getting pierced?”

“I didn’t cry like a little bitch,” he said. “But it wasn’t enjoyable.”

I watched him now like he had watched me. My grip twisted and pumped, sliding along the ridge of the head, and my thumb brushed over the sensitive tip, spreading around the drops of wetness. He lifted up the hem of his shirt to keep it out of my way, and he set his hand on his stomach. The fingers rested there, fanned out on the perfectly cut abdominals. Good God. How would he react if I ran my tongue over those muscles? Every inch of him was so goddamn lickable.

But I’d stick to where he most wanted me to lick. I opened my mouth and swept the underside of his cock across the tip of my tongue. His expression was . . . nervous.

“Are you worried about what I’m going to do to you?” My voice was low and coy.

“Of course not.”

Oh, but he was. He was definitely worried I was going to make him come and ruin his chances of getting laid, which he was right about. It was exactly my plan. I held him tight around the base, opened wide, and took him deep inside my mouth. The connection of gazing at him while he watched me was unexpectedly hot.

So I continued to focus on his eyes with every slow thrust and withdrawal of my mouth. His cock seemed to grow harder the longer I looked at him. My hand not holding him steady, reached up and splayed over his stomach, overlapping with his fingers.

“Your eyes . . .” he said between shallow breaths, “keep moving . . . except when you’re looking at me.”

Oh, shit, was that true? He was a major distraction in all the right ways. I bobbed my head faster, spinning my tongue. He let out a moan. It was actually more of a low growl of appreciation, and was undeniably the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.

His fingers threaded through my hair, twisting the strands loosely around his fingertips. There wasn’t tension in them at first. It was more as if he wasn’t sure where to put the hand that wasn’t beneath mine on his abs. But as I sped up, his fingers tightened to give me gentle nudges, urging me to take him deeper.

It’d be possible if he weren’t so huge. My jaw was already uncomfortable from the intrusion. And suddenly those fingers clenched into a fist at base of my skull and held me in place, getting me to back off.

“Okay, slow down, Regan.” It was equal measure plea and command.

No way was I slowing down. I ignored the dull ache in my hair and continued to move at my pace. His expression was intense and a war appeared to roar behind his eyes. His desire to move to the bed was pitted against his body’s urges to keep receiving pleasure.

“Shit,” he said. “You’re hell bent on raping me with that mouth, aren’t you?”

I giggled as I paused on him, but stroked my hand along his wet length. “Raping you? You don’t want this?”