Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club Book 1)

by Nikki Sloane

  “You’re not showing me anything I don’t already know,” I murmured between kisses, going back for more. The hand on my ass traveled to the front, dragging slowly up in the valley between my thighs.

  The button to my pants was undone in a heartbeat, and he broke the kiss, turning me in his arms so I faced the computer.

  “I need you to send an email,” he said. His breathing was steady and controlled, but I was already hopelessly out of breath. He sat in his chair, making sure I understood he wanted me to stand, and he opened a new email compose window. I’d have to lean over him to do it while standing.

  “Who is the email going to?” I asked, not moving.

  “Evelyn Russell.”

  “You want me to send an email to myself?”

  “Yes.” His eyes were smug.

  I gave him an exasperated look and bent at the waist, putting my hands on his keyboard. I typed in E and V and let AutoFill do the rest.

  “What’s the subject?” I asked.

  “Computer Usage Policy.”

  I started to type when his hands closed around my waist and unzipped the zipper, yanking my pants down past my knees. The air on my naked skin was almost as shocking as the action itself.

  “Hmm, I like these,” he said, running a hand over the back of my pink panties. “Keep typing, please.”

  Because I’d only gotten three letters into “computer” before turning to him in surprise. He’d rolled his chair back so he was directly behind me and his hands kneaded my skin, skirting the edges of my panties.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Dictating an email to you because my hands are busy.”

  I typed the rest of it, not bothering to put it in title case like I usually do, confusion making this easy task seem like brain surgery.

  “Evelyn,” he said, “You may or may not remember . . .” His fingertips brushed over the crotch of my rapidly dampening panties, making me jump. “You should be typing now.”

  I typed in a hurry, and when my fingers stopped moving, his started.

  “—the company computer usage document you signed when you were hired.” He rubbed the spot that was aching for him through the fabric. I tried to focus on the words and not what he was doing or the desire that was sinking its powerful claws into me.

  “I’d like to remind you that your manager has monitoring software,” he said. He tugged the panties to the side and exposed me to him, dragging his hand over my bare flesh. “And that your system should only be used for work related tasks.”

  What the hell was he talking about? I didn’t use my computer for non-work things when I was supposed to be working. “I don’t understand why—”

  He buried a finger inside me and I moaned.

  “I can’t type when you do that.” It felt so different at this angle, a new kind of pleasure. Plus I couldn’t get over how incredibly hot and naughty it was, what we were doing right at his desk. Yet what he had me typing also had my brain confused and fighting for attention.

  “You must find this distracting,” he said in a low, sexy voice. Then he returned to the tone for dictation. “You should not use your system to check personal email or social media, even during breaks.” His finger drew back and then plunged into me again and again. “Type, Evelyn.”

  My fingers fumbled over the keyboard. I saw the red underline of a misspelled word and fixed it, all while he had my panties bunched to one side and fucked me with a finger. I was impossibly wet, and I knew his face was fixed on my ass right in front of him.

  “Thank you for your understanding, Logan.” As soon as the words were gone from his mouth, he leaned forward in his chair and put his tongue on me.

  “Oh, shit,” I cried. My legs shook when his tongue caressed me. The need that gripped my body threatened to break me.

  “Send it,” he whispered, barely taking his lips off of my skin. I clicked the button, but remained as I was. There was no way I was going to stop him, but my goddamn brain wouldn’t shut up, and the distraction was keeping me from getting where I wanted him to take me.

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “I saw the club’s logo on that email the owner sent you, and I was curious who designed it,” he leaned back and peeled my panties down to my knees. “I thought you might be freelancing, so after you left my office, I watched your computer.”

  I had forgotten he had those capabilities. I’d thought I was safe since it was my personal account and I hadn’t said much in the email. “There wasn’t anything in the email, though.”

  The warmth of his face returned. His tongue slipped inside me, and then, like he’d done at the club, it drifted further to the spot that brought me pleasure but also made me uncomfortable. Dirty and wrong, but felt so good.

  “Stop, I can’t think when . . . you’re going down on me.”

  “I don’t want to stop.” He locked his hands on my hips and licked me front to back, drawing a shiver from my body. “You’d said you were getting the money Saturday night, and the owner said to bring the contract with you on Saturday.” He shoved two fingers into me, filling me as his mouth sucked.

  “All I had to do,” he continued, “was email the guy and say you’d referred me to him. He spelled it all out for me.”

  My hands balled into fists as the fracture in my brain widened.

  “What did you think when you found out?”

  “I was excited you were . . . are,” he corrected, “interested in that kind of thing. But I was worried about you, and pissed off. I almost gave you the money on Friday to stop you. But if I gave you the money, shouldn’t I get something in return? I’ve wanted you for forever. So I could give you the money, get what I wanted, and have you never know it was me.”

  “What?” My hips moved subtly with his rhythm, asking for more. Forever? I was getting close. Was I supposed to tell him yellow?

  “I wasn’t planning to take off your blindfold.”

  He couldn’t see the shocked look on my face. It was hard to imagine it now, in retrospect. What if he hadn’t? I’d have gone to work every day completely oblivious.

  “Why did you?”

  “I didn’t like you not knowing it was me, and I figured I was safe from a sexual harassment complaint once you were begging for me to do this.”

  The air left my lungs when he stopped talking and shoved his face into my pussy. I arched my back, and with the confusion finally sorted out, I came in a heated rush, collapsing on the cool desktop, electricity washing through every inch of my body. For a moment, the only sound was my heavy breathing.

  “You’re supposed to only come on my cock.” His voice was wicked. The wheels of his chair squeaked as he rose, and there was the sound of his belt and zipper being undone. I was still recovering when a condom wrapper tore open.

  “If I could, I’d ask you if you want this.” The head of his dick slipped between my folds, teasing me. It was a question framed as a statement. He was already doing so much better than I did.

  “Yes. Do you?”

  “Fuck, yes.” He wasn’t as gentle this time when he pushed inside me.

  “Whoa,” I gasped in discomfort. “Slower.”

  “Sorry,” he whispered, freezing. He held still and let me slowly back myself onto him until he was as deep as he could go.

  “Move,” I half-commanded, half-begged.

  He did as I asked, easing himself out and then back in at a luxurious pace. Here, on his desk with all the lights on and my panties around my knees. His hands roved over my body, slipping under my shirt to cup my bra-covered breast.

  “Take off your shirt,” he said.

  I tore it up over my head, and he made a noise of appreciation when he saw the bra. I had wanted to talk to him in a place safe from beds, but somehow when I dressed this morning, I knew it was irrelevant. I was going to let him have me again if he could explain himself adequately. So I’d worn the sexiest lingerie I owned for him.

  He filled his hands with my breasts, the
pads of his thumbs skimming over the sensitive flesh just above the low-cut cups.

  “You should ask me what I’m thinking about,” he urged.

  Oh, right. I’d forgotten about that perk. “What are you thinking about?”

  “That the cleaning crew has a key to my office and will be here soon.”

  I had been expecting something sexy and that definitely wasn’t it.

  “So I’m going to fuck you hard and fast,” he continued. “Feel free to come as many times as you like.”

  That was better. He drove into me, thrusting harder and harder with each pass until I was breathless and frantic. My fingers clawed at the desk, seeking something to hold onto, and found the edge out before me. I curled my hands around it as he grabbed a fistful of hair at the base of my skull.

  He pulled back, hard. It wasn’t painful, but it made me crazy with lust. He put his lips on the side of my neck. This made me channel my inner porn star. “Do you like my tight pussy?”

  “I fucking love it.”

  Oh, shit, he was going to make me come. His furious thrusts sent my hipbones banging into the drawer of his desk, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was the release that threatened and the blood rushing in my ears. But if that’s all I could think about, what about him?

  “What are you thinking about now?”

  He hesitated.

  “Rule two, Logan.”

  “I’m thinking about how you’ll react if I do this.” He licked the pad of his thumb and slipped it between my cheeks, pressing down on my other entrance. This felt dirty, but not as bad as what he’d done with his mouth. Naughty. Taboo.

  I was curious. Payton enjoyed the anal stuff. She wouldn’t say that if it weren’t true.

  “It . . . feels good,” I admitted.

  He jerked inside me like my willingness turned him on. He pounded into me, and slowly he increased the pressure until he could slip his thumb up to the first knuckle into my ass. It was shocking and foreign, and made me tremble.

  “I want to know how that feels,” he said between breaths. “If you want me to go further.”

  Honestly, I had no idea. I was so close to going over the edge, I felt scattered. “I just want you to make me come.”

  “I can do that,” he said. His other hand slid to my waist so he could shift the angle of my body to one where I could feel all of him at once, both inside and out. I slapped a hand on the desktop, dragging it squealing down. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. . .

  This orgasm outdid the first. It was fast, but intense, and bliss rolled through me.

  He didn’t slow down like he had the other times; he kept up his driving pace. His breath became louder, labored, and short, as his thrusts were more frantic. He was as hard as a rock inside me, filling me. I could sense he was so close, and I wanted him to lose control like he made me.

  “Are you going to come?”

  “Fuck, yes. Right. Fucking. Now.”

  His body drove into me a final time, and then he was moaning again and again. God, listening to him made my insides quiver, and the feeling of him pulsing inside me was like nothing else. He made me believe no other man could satisfy me.

  He caught his breath before I did, and he fell back into his chair. His hands pulled me so I was sideways on his lap.

  “We should probably get dressed.” He lifted my chin and kissed me softly. “I want to have dinner with you.”

  “Do the rules apply?”

  “Until we leave my office.”

  I gave him a coy smile. “We can order in.”

  “It’s too hard to have a conversation without questions.”

  That was true, and we hadn’t really had one. “Okay, what did you have in mind?” I climbed off of him and pulled up my panties and pants, as he got rid of the condom and sorted himself out.

  “There’s that stir-fry place, have you been there?”

  I stop mid-search for my blouse and looked at him. This time my brain was working, so I reached behind me and unclasped my bra, letting the straps drop down to my elbows, and then fall to the floor.

  “Oops,” I said with a straight face.

  It’s not like my breasts were anything spectacular. They were fairly average, maybe slightly larger. But he was a man, and men like pretty much all breasts. I sat on the desk and let him gaze at them, and when he reached out to put a hand on one, I pushed it away.

  “No touching, you broke a rule.”

  He smirked. I resumed getting dressed as he finished zipping up, and realized my window of getting answers out of him was closing. So if there was anything I wanted to know that he’d be reluctant to reveal, I needed to ask it now.

  “How many women have you slept with?”

  He shut down his computer and sighed. “I hope you’re sure you want to know.”

  “I am.”

  “It’s probably close to thirty.”

  I had asked, but I frowned. God only knew what Payton’s number was. I’m sure it was more than thirty, but my number was so low. “Would you like to know my number?”

  His eyes widened with surprise. “Yes.”

  “Five.”

  His gorgeous eyes went even wider. “I assume your number doesn’t includes me.”

  “It does.” I slipped my shirt on and checked to make sure everything was back in place. “Why are you single?”

  He had just undone the knot of his tie and his hands paused. In fact, his whole body went motionless. “Pass.”

  “You can’t pass again.” I rolled my eyes. His gaze was shockingly intense and sobered me. It stole my breath.

  “It’s because I’m not interested in being in a relationship right now.” He resumed movement, but his whole body was tense. This was the question he was nervous about?

  “Why?”

  His expression turned sour. “Relationships are about compromise.” His expression set into an authoritative one. “And me? I don’t do compromises.”

  No, definitely not. But still . . . “That’s not a real answer.”

  “So I broke a rule. What are you going to do about it?”

  His challenge was startling and my brain was utterly blank, so I did my best to make sure it sounded strong. “I’ll think of something.”

  chapter

  TEN

  We were seated right away at a table near the door. Even for a Monday night, the place was busy. We’d both taken our bowls with our names written on them to the buffet and piled them with meat and veggies, and deposited them by the cooking station that held a team of men hovering over woks.

  “We’ve done this backwards,” he said as we made our way back to our table. “Sex, then dinner, and afterward I’m going to ask for your number.”

  “What if I don’t give it to you?”

  “I’m going to insist, for your file.” His expression was serious, but there was playfulness in his eyes.

  “Let me see your phone.”

  He passed it to me and, as I plugged my number in, a thought occurred. What exactly did he need it for? I set the phone down, and when he leaned across the table to retrieve it, my hand trapped his.

  “What do you plan on doing with my number?” I asked.

  “Call you?”

  “For what?” My voice dropped to a hush. “Sex?”

  His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I was under the impression you liked doing that with me.”

  “I do.” I released his hand, confused myself.

  “Evelyn.” He took a measured breath and his face was strikingly intense. “I think we’re past the point of being shy about what we want. So say it.”

  He was right, but it was still difficult to put into words, especially after what he’d just confessed in his office.

  “I’m not built to do that outside of a relationship. I’ll need it to be . . . more.”

  There was no reaction from him, sending my heart plummeting into my stomach. His pupils focused in a discerning look, evaluating me.

  “Pretty s
ure I told you, I’m not interested in that.”

  I pulled air into my lungs, unsure how to proceed. “I understand, but I’m not interested in casual sex.”

  “Did that feel casual to you?”

  There was that sparkling Logan personality I was familiar with. “You know what I mean.”

  “So, this is, what? An ultimatum?” His voice was harsh. “I’d advise against it. I don’t react well to them.”

  This conversation was on a downward spiral. “It’s not an ultimatum. All I’m telling you is I can’t sleep with a guy who’s sleeping with other people.”

  His mouth dropped open, and snapped shut a half second later. “I understand. I won’t do that.”

  I blinked my skeptical eyes at him.

  “What you’re asking for is not unreasonable,” he said. He fell silent for a long moment, as if considering something. “I’m not interested in a relationship, but I am interested in you. I can be exclusive to that.”

  Was he trying to turn my brain into spaghetti? What did that mean? “You’ll be . . . ? I don’t get it.”

  “You won’t have to share me, and I don’t have to share you.”

  God, he really didn’t want to put a label on it.

  “We need to discuss how it’s going to work. It could be difficult at the office, and then there’s the issue of your promotion.”

  “Why’s that an issue? I’ve been there long enough, half the people already think I’m a senior designer.”

  There was a flash of something in his eyes, and then it was gone. “Yes, that’s true. But we still have the problem of critiques. Are you going to take it personally if I say something negative about your artwork?”

  I had to be smiling. “Um, no, boss. I’ll handle it like I always do. I’m plenty used to it.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Come on, I’ve endured your morale-boosting critique sessions for a year now. I’ve got a thick skin.” Our server presented our food to us, and I nodded a ‘thank you.’ “You don’t have to worry about sending me home in tears.”