Three Little Mistakes

by Nikki Sloane

  He released my legs and they fell, quaking and boneless to the comforter. The hum stopped. I blinked slowly, struggling to emerge from my fog. My heartbeat continued to pulse in my clit even after the last tendrils of the orgasm slipped away.

  “Mmm . . .” I moaned. Feeling hadn’t completely returned, but he was doing something. His head was flanked by my legs, and when I strained my neck, I watched his pink tongue slide between my folds. His indecent kiss was gentle and slow, but I couldn’t watch. I was too turned on. In fact, I could feel that I was dripping.

  I stared up at his plain white ceiling while he lapped at me. I needed to know everything about this man and all the filthy things he had planned for us.

  “Joseph,” I whispered, making him pause. “That felt so fucking good.”

  “Such language.” His mocking voice teased me. Then his mouth returned to teasing me in other ways. Warmth crept up in my cheeks when his fingers spread me further open. The tongue slid all over, changing pace, darting inside . . . and then his mouth closed around the nerves at my center, sucking.

  I was sweating under his command and the air in the room was thin. It was so much worse when he sat back from me, grabbed the hem of his sweater, and lifted, stretching it up and over his head.

  “Whoa,” I said.

  Dark blue ink adorned his shoulder, intricate scrolls extending down his toned bicep to his elbow. Most tattoos seemed flat to me, but this one had depth. I could study it for a while and not grasp all of the beauty of the artist’s work. Of course my bad boy came with a tattoo.

  A voice in my head reminded me that there were other parts of his body to look at besides the magnificent art. It didn’t disappoint either. Joseph had a narrow, lean build, where oversized muscles would look odd on him. Holy hell, his proportions were just right. He was hard and cut, and my gaze soaked in the abs that flowed down, disappearing beneath the waistline of his pants.

  His long, skilled fingers worked the buckle of his belt, then tugged the zipper. He backed off the bed and dropped both his pants and boxer briefs to the floor, his massive erection reaching toward me. A chuckle rumbled from his chest.

  “You look terrified,” he said. A condom was plucked from the drawer, and he tore the wrapper open with his teeth. “Don’t worry, we know it’s going to fit.”

  I watched as he rolled the latex down on himself, and deep inside, I wanted those to be my hands. “You said I was going to get my turn to touch you.” I moved my wrists so the handcuffs clanged for effect.

  He slid onto the bed beside me, his mouth hovering over my breast closest to him. “Well, I had other things planned tonight, baby girl, but I can’t wait any longer. I want to feel that pussy coming on me.” He nipped at my skin, making me flinch. “You do this. Make me lose control.”

  His body was on top of me then, our naked flesh pressed together, and my throat closed up. No more talking.

  All I wanted was what he wanted.

  chapter

  TWELVE

  JOSEPH

  When Noemi’s dress hit the floor, I began to doubt my stupid idea that one more time would be enough. It was destroyed when she admitted she enjoyed my rough hand cracking against her ass. This girl could bring men to their knees, and seemed completely unaware. I wanted to coax that out and set her on fire.

  But now I was worried I’d be the one she’d put on his knees.

  Her innocence was intoxicating, and her willingness fucked with my head. I was high off of my desire. My body moved to her, independent of my mind. Her face was in my hands as I settled over her. I rained kisses over her cheeks, her jawline, down her neck. I wanted the taste of her skin always in my mouth.

  Her legs wrapped around my hips, urging me to take her.

  If I had any goddamn control, I’d make her wait. I’d tease, or instruct her to beg. Anticipation played a huge role in heightening sensation and giving a better experience. But I could not wait one fucking moment more.

  She whimpered as I began to intrude, but her legs strengthened their hold on me, driving me forward. Pulling me deeper. I buried my face in her neck, sucking softly as I sank inch by slow inch into her.

  “You like this cock inside you?” I thought I remembered how good she felt, but I’d been wrong. “Feels so fucking good.”

  A groan rolled from my lips as I was buried all the way to my balls. Her pussy was an inferno. It made sense; Noemi was insanely hot. The twisted part of me loved that she was dangerous. Fucking her put everything at risk, and it turned me on more, although I didn’t need help there.

  A soft moan escaped her as I began to thrust. Slow. Steady. Deep. This was prepping her for launch, not going for orgasm right away. I’d have more groundwork to lay before I’d bring her to the edge. As long as I could show a little restraint, I’d get her off. I had the Hitachi nearby to help with the final push.

  Her moans swelled in intensity as I did, and suddenly I went off the rails. My mouth found hers, and my hands wrapped around her wrists, just below the handcuffs. I lost my goddamn mind when her lips were pressed to mine. Kissing her was a mistake, and I needed to stop doing it. I used my teeth to nip at her bottom lip.

  Focus on her tits, I ordered myself. They were perfect. Tight, pink nipples that were hard knots, brushed against my chest. I snatched one up, rubbing my face over her flesh. My scruff bristled against her skin and Noemi exhaled loudly.

  “Oh,” she said, her back arching and shoving herself against me. Her knuckles squeezing the railings were almost white and her muscles strained. I began to fuck hard then. Our bodies slapped together and the force drove her into the mattress. The headboard knocked against the wall. Thump, thump, thump . . . perfectly in time with my rhythm.

  Under me, she was desperate, writhing for something, and she probably didn’t even know what. But I did. “You want more?” I asked it with a devilish voice. “Does my good girl need to be fucked harder?”

  Her gaze found me through the cloud of lust that filled her eyes. “Yes,” she said between two huge breaths, “Sir.”

  Part of me had wished the answer was no. I was aching and wanted to come. All of my self-pleasure since I’d had her on that table hadn’t taken the edge off; it seemed only Noemi could give me satisfaction. I slammed into her, shoving my cock in her tight pussy over and over, while my hand searched for the Hitachi on the comforter. Her eyes closed and she bit her trembling bottom lip. We were both slick with sweat, our skin gliding over one another as she moved beneath me.

  I rose up to sit, pushing her knees back and wide open, all while staying deep. Her eyelids blinked when the vibrator sprang to life, and she cried out when I placed it directly on her clit.

  The powerful vibrations reverberated through her body onto mine, but it was her tiny, internal clenches that made me moan. I had a hand still on her knee and squeezed, needing something to help me endure what felt so good it should be a felony.

  “Shit. Shit, shit . . .” she whined. “Please. Right there.”

  I grinned. Sooner or later she’d figure out how sexy it was when she knew what she wanted and asked for it. I did as she said, kept the vibrator firm against her. I watched the slippery stroke of my cock inside and its slide out of her, before I plunged back in to repeat, endlessly.

  She gasped for air, right on the edge of orgasm.

  “Yes. Come on me, Noemi. Fuck that cock.”

  She brought her elbows together over her face, as if to quiet the scream that welled up. And there it was, the sensation I’d wanted. Her toes bent into points, and inside I felt the pulses signaling what was happening.

  I made it one lousy thrust before I joined her. My balls tightened and heat shot up my spine, exploding out in a rush of pleasure. “Fuck,” I groaned, dropping the vibrator. Her body milked me, and her scream rang in my head, catapulting me further. The goddamn orgasm kept going. Wave after wave of it, each spurt a new burst of pleasure while she shuddered around me.

  I collapsed forward, my head falling on her
heaving chest while the rush faded with each shallow breath I took.

  Fucking hell. Thank God she’d been bound to the bed. How long would I have made it with those hands on me, scratching at my shoulders or wrapped behind my neck? I lay there, my head riding the gentle gallop of her breathing that slowed to almost normal.

  “Joseph.” Her voice was shaky. “I’ve got pins and needles in my arms.”

  Fuck, of course she did. I slid off the bed, grabbed the key from the drawer, and undid the cuffs as fast as I could. When she gingerly brought her arms down by her side, I yanked the condom off and tossed it in the garbage.

  “Roll over, lie on your stomach.” There was a bottle of oil in the drawer, and I unsnapped the cap, pouring some in my palm.

  “Is that drawer completely devoted to sex stuff?” she joked, but her voice was tight. She tried to hide the grimace from her face as she moved on her stiff arms.

  “Pretty much.” There was a lot more in the bottom drawer of my dresser, but she wasn’t ready for any of that. I rubbed my hands together, then set them on her smooth shoulders, kneading the muscles of her neck, her back, down her arms.

  “I’m on board with the handcuffs if this happens every time after.”

  “You don’t need handcuffs if you want me to touch you. Just ask,” I said. “Or, take off your clothes.” She laughed softly, and it struck me again how much I liked the sound. I glanced at the glasses we’d left on the dresser. “Want your wine?”

  “Yes, please.”

  This wasn’t something I was used to. I didn’t bring women home with me. I didn’t climb into bed with them afterward, while drinking wine and fighting the urge to have a conversation that didn’t revolve around sex. Yet it came naturally tonight.

  I was curious about this heiress who’d given herself to me, even though I shouldn’t allow this to continue. But silence was also nice, and not at all uncomfortable. When she finished her wine, she rolled onto her side, her gaze on my chest. Ah, no. My tattoo.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” I followed her gaze, which seemed to trace every delicate line. “It’s my friend Silas’ work. He has a gallery in Wicker Park.” Too much information. I needed to keep my distance if I was going to maintain control.

  “Are you a pessimist?” she asked.

  “No, why?”

  Her fingertips skated over the quote buried within the art. “Nothing lasts forever. That’s not exactly what I’d call a hopeful statement.”

  “It can be,” I said quickly, stretching my hand up and tucking it back behind my head, obscuring most of the ink from her view.

  A puzzled look flashed on her pretty face. “How can that be hopeful?”

  “If nothing lasts forever, that includes weakness. Pain. Nausea, and doctors—” I snapped my mouth shut, but it was too late. I could see the thoughts in her head, reflected in the windows of her eyes.

  I sat up. “Forget I said anything. We should get dressed.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  The hurt in her voice stabbed into me. I didn’t want to throw her out of my bed, in fact, I wanted her to get under the covers. To curl up beside me so we could go again in the morning. But I didn’t know how else to get her away from the questions I knew were coming. The last thing I wanted was her to look at me differently, like I was breakable. I didn’t bend or break. I was the one who did the pushing now. Others bent at my command.

  She slipped off the bed and began tugging on her clothes, not looking at me. It was awful. Every tense movement of her body displayed how uncomfortable she felt, and I had to do something.

  “Wait.” My voice was unsteady, and I hated the sound of it, but I’d made the mistake. Might as well finish it.

  Her hazel eyes were going to destroy me.

  “I’m sorry, come back here.” My hand patted the bed beside me. “I don’t like talking about it, but I can try.”

  She crept to the edge of the bed and sat, her cautious gaze focused. “When were you sick?”

  “I found a lump here when I was sixteen.” I pressed two fingers in the spot where the ink started, the chest area just to the front of my armpit. “Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”

  Her back straightened and the word came out tainted with horror. “Cancer?”

  “Yeah. Cancer.” The illness had defined my life for years and nearly taken everything.

  Her expression was heartbreaking. “But you’re better?”

  “I’ve been cancer free for twenty years. Well, technically in a week.” Noemi didn’t look like she had a clue what to say, which I understood. I didn’t either. The silence that stretched was awkward.

  “Oh,” she said, her voice uneven. “You should do something to celebrate. Like a party or . . .”

  “Not too many of my friends know about it.” Her gaze examined mine, urging me to elaborate. “I haven’t found a good way to say, ‘Hey, cancer and chemo almost killed me when I was seventeen.’ It derails the conversation fast.”

  Her eyes were sobering. “But that had to be a major part of your life. I mean, you beat cancer.”

  “Yeah. Wasn’t easy.” There was a colossal understatement.

  She shook her head, like she was shaking away a weird thought. She climbed over the mattress top and straddled my lap in a surprising move. Her warm hands bristled on my five o’clock shadow as she took my jaw in her grip.

  “I’m sorry you went through that.” Her soft lips pressed to mine in a gentle kiss. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  I could have made a joke, something about how she was just saying that because I was the only man who brought her to orgasm, but her words carried way too much sincerity. They tore me apart and yet made me feel warm. I was glad to be here, too.

  With Noemi Rosso.

  In my bed, in my arms, and working her way into my head. A strong case could be made that she was already there. I wrapped my arms tighter around her slender body, pressing her to me, and deepened the kiss.

  When my fingers curled around her bra strap and inched it down, she sat back. “You said we should get dressed.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  She smiled, but pulled her strap up on her shoulder. “Um, I have class at eight tomorrow morning.”

  “Shit, I can’t remember the last time I was up that early.” I’d always been a night owl, so I didn’t have a problem getting used to the club schedule.

  “So, unless you’re interested in doing that, I’m going to need you to take me home.”

  “I will. Eventually.” I pulled the strap down and let my tongue trace the faint impression left by the elastic.

  Her hands wove through my hair. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I was too busy to use words. My mouth drifted lower, tracing the seams of her flimsy bra.

  “What happened at the restaurant?”

  I flinched. I’d told her that she wasn’t supposed to lie during our arrangement, but what about me? I was such a selfish, fucking hypocrite.

  “You looked nervous,” she continued, “when you found out who my dad is.”

  I folded and took the cowardly route. “One of the biggest customers at my private wine club is Henry Katzenberg. He wants to invest in my businesses.”

  I didn’t know how the bad blood between the Rossos and the Katzenbergs started. A failed merger, or maybe it was employee poaching, but their feud was no secret in Chicago. Rumor was Katzenberg had walked out on a deal simply because he caught the opposing VP reading a Rosso-owned newspaper beforehand.

  And telling her this wasn’t technically a lie. Katzenberg was a sometimes client at the blindfold club. It was a huge reason why I only allowed one client in the hallway at any time. If either of the men saw each other it would be beyond disaster.

  “Oh,” she said, stiffening.

  “So perhaps we could keep our arrangement between us.”

  She nodded. “That kind of goes without saying. I don’t think my dad would be thrilled with the concept.�
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  No shit. “Is that why you said yes to me?” I teased, although there was a little truth buried underneath. “You like fucking a man your daddy wouldn’t approve of?”

  I’d expected shock, but instead a seductive smile widened on her lips.

  “Yes, I do like fucking you. Was that not clear . . . Sir?”

  I dug my fingers into her flesh and yanked her into my kiss. I wanted her on her knees and my cock buried down her throat. Didn’t matter that I wasn’t hard yet. Chances were she’d rectify that situation instantly.

  But she had class, and I had my own shit to take care of, and I didn’t want to overwhelm her with too much, too soon. Get control of yourself.

  Eventually I forced myself from the bed and stepped into my pants. I begrudgingly dressed and watched her do the same. I fought my dominant side, who was adamant that she stay naked and under my power.

  “There,” she said, when I’d pulled the Porsche up the block from where I’d picked her up from. “That’s my building.”

  The upscale apartments had a beautifully lit awning and large glass doors where I could see the security desk just beyond. If she had told me this was her place that first night, I would have known in a second that something wasn’t right. Middle-class couldn’t afford to live here, and certainly not grad students.

  Unless their father was the corporate king of Chicago.

  chapter

  THIRTEEN

  NOEMI

  It was two in the morning, and I had to be up in a few hours. I lay in my bed, unable to sleep. My body was still wired from his touch, and my mind raced with thoughts. Sex with Joseph had once again been amazing, and I was sure this was only the beginning.

  So instead of sleeping, I sat up, yanked my iPad off the nightstand, and unsnapped the cover. I knew next to nothing about being in a Dom/sub relationship, only what I’d read in a few steamy books. Google could help.