Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club #4) (24 page)

His touch was electric and disruptive. Signals crossed in my brain. I didn’t like the domination, and yet I did, too. Feeling his power got me so fucking hot.

The naked tip of his dick slipped between my folds, and then he rammed hard, impaling me with one swift move. I gasped as my body protested the sudden intrusion. He plunged deep until his hips were pressed against my ass, not giving me time to accommodate him before he began to fuck me.

“Oh,” I moaned. My face twisted with agonizing pleasure. His thick cock thrust with force, slamming me into the table. I jolted and tried to break my arms free, but he tightened his hold and his grip bordered on painful.

I fucking loved it.

He moved at a blistering tempo. So fast, it made him out of breath. Or perhaps it was fucking with nothing between us that had the effect. It felt so good having his skin inside me, where I could feel the defined ridge at the head of his cock, the hard, steel piercing, and every pulse.
Fuck
, all of it.

I clamped down with my internal walls, milking him as he beat against my hips. The hard slap of bare skin against skin was louder than the angry, fast rhymes spewing from the speakers. Aggression and intensity blanketed us like a thick, dense fog.

“Faster,” I demanded. “
Harder
.”

Instead, Silas retreated and a sharp crack rang out. It took a solid second for the pain to register. He’d brought his hand crashing down on my ass. I panted as warmth swelled across my skin.

“I’ll fuck you how I want, Regan. I’ll make this pussy come when I’m goddamn ready.”

A nervous but delighted sound bubbled up from inside when he slammed back into me. The hand that wasn’t holding my wrists clenched on my waist so he could hold me steady while pounding away. His movement was so deep inside . . . Christ, so deep. My cheek was flat against the table and I reverberated with each of his furious thrusts, making my sweaty skin stick and pull as I rocked from his motion.

Being with him was freeing. Everything clicked.

I stared across the studio. A canvas was propped against a desk, and I was unsure if it was a project that had been set aside, or one that had been abandoned. I hoped not. Even half complete it was striking. Not quite as much as he was, but intriguing nonetheless.

I groaned with pleasure as he bent his knees and thrust upward, shifting the angle minutely. Just enough to make me tremble and get me reacquainted with an orgasm. There was a sound from him which caused my breath to stop. Like a small burst of air through his lips. Something wet landed on me, rolling down between my ass cheeks.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Had he just spat on me? My pussy clenched at the nasty, dirty idea. And he wasn’t done, either. His goal had been lubrication for the finger that was now probing my valley.

“Yeah, I thought you’d be into this.” His tone was dark. “You want a finger here? Tell me. No, fuck that. Beg me for it in your ass.”

It was so hard to concentrate over the rising bliss. His cock struck my G-spot on each thrust, the metal piercing adding to my enjoyment, and my body was consumed with need. Growing frantic for release.

“Give it to me,” I said. I squirmed against the table, trying to position myself so his finger was as my other entrance.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Now.”

He laughed, and the finger began to advance with its awkward, uncomfortable feeling, but one I liked. I’d only gotten Matt to do it a few times when I’d asked for it and he’d been drunk. Who would have thought a doctor would be squeamish about that?

I moaned when he pushed deeper. “Fuck, Silas.”

“Take it. You like it in this tight, little ass?”

“I do.” The finger went all the way to the knuckle. “So much.”

His cock flexed and I moaned again; this one was throaty and desperate. If I had use of my hands . . . I struggled against his hold, but it was futile.

“I want to touch myself,” I gasped.

“You want your hands back?” I couldn’t see him, but I pictured him with a cocky smile. “Say please.”

“Fucking please.”

His hand let go, and I swallowed back a breath as my shoulders protested. But it faded quickly. There were other sensations going on that took higher priority. His hard cock drove into me, and his finger thrust deep in a matching rhythm. It felt impossibly good, and I twitched when I wedged my arm between my body and the table, and touched my fingers to my clit.

It wouldn’t take me long like this—

I cried out when my head jerked back. Silas had grabbed my hair and yanked.
Hard
. The pain was white-hot and then gone when he let go. His action had forced me up, and I supported myself with one hand flat on the table. Wouldn’t dare stop what I was doing as my fingers fumbled over my clit, though. I was so close. Lava pumped through my veins, making me hazy. His hand was on my breast, squeezing. Gripping it so hard it stole my breath.

Silas fucked me like I had pissed him off, not the other way around, but it was what I needed. He was rewarding me with punishment. I deserved to be mistreated. To be used.

It’s what you did to Paul.

Only he hadn’t gotten enjoyment out of me using him. All he’d received was betrayal and a self-inflicted gunshot.

“Rougher,” I pleaded.

Silas slowed his tempo and his grip fell away from my breast. “Jesus. I’m not really into . . .”

I shook my head, forcing the emotions back. I didn’t really want it rougher, either. It was a reflex. Anything to keep me from thinking about Reno. Why the hell had I allowed myself to do that? It was more proof that Silas wasn’t just fucking me, but he was fucking my mind, too.

“No, don’t stop,” I whispered. “I’m right there.” My hand rubbed furiously and the tremble built in my core, vibrating outward as the tendrils of the orgasm corded around me. My desperate request set Silas off. He returned to his punishing tempo both with his hips and hand.

“Come on my cock.”

His dirty order launched me into ecstasy.

“Oh, oh!” Pleasure burst and consumed, and it went on and on. Each wave of it was amazing. My arm went weak and I collapsed forward, gasping for breath while the aftershocks swept through me. My hair flopped down on my face, but I didn’t care. Everything was tingling.

Only when I fell on the table, the speaker stand with his phone tipped over. There was a chime, the rap song cut off, and a new song began to play. We both froze.

“It’s on shuffle now,” he said. His finger retreated. He took a deep breath, and he began to move inside me again.

Sparks flashed upward from where we were connected as I was still incredibly sensitive. “The song . . . change it . . .”

“I’m busy.” His hands were on my waist, pulling me back onto him so he could push even deeper than before. Holy shit it felt good, but the strains of the synthesizer were distracting.

“Silas.”

“What?” He pretended he was serious. “I can fuck you while listening to Journey’s
Don’t Stop Believing
if I want.”

The guitar wails began and I laughed. He’d gone from intense to silly in the blink of an eye, and I kind of loved it.

“Fine,” I said. “Just know if you start singing along, I’m out.”

“Got it.”

He moved, and this pace was all about him. My orgasm had been satisfied, and although I doubted I’d get another, what he was doing still felt awesome. I loved his firm hands on my skin, pushing and pulling me exactly how he wanted it.

But the song . . . “I feel like we should be drunk after a Blackhawk’s game.”

He chuckled, but the muscles in his legs went tense. He set a hand on the table beside my shoulder and I clasped my fingers around his wrist, wanting more of a connection with him. God, I was already hopelessly past ‘casual,’ so far I couldn’t even see it anymore. His moan rose up louder than Steve Perry’s vocals. The hand on my hip clenched and he shuddered, letting lose a groan. As he came, I closed my eyes and savored the feeling. The slow, unhurried movements as he recovered. How his patterned forearm looked with my fingers encasing it.

His damp, warm chest pressed against my back as he leaned into me. His lips caressed my shoulder. It was tender. Sweet.

Dangerous.

His kiss caused me to go blurry. He was a soft-focus lens, making everything else seem better. I didn’t argue with him when he pulled up his jeans, collected our clothes, and pointed to the stairway. I didn’t fight the offered shower either.

The stall was like everything else in his apartment, it was tiny. I stood under the hot water and let my thoughts go to the man on the other side of the bathroom door. Why had I been mad at him? I liked persistence. Silas’s “I don’t take no for an answer” attitude was the same as mine. I had a bit of disappointment about washing away the charcoal handprints which lingered on my neck. I enjoyed his artistic marks on me.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed when I came out of the bathroom with one towel wrapped around my body and another on my head. His elbows were on his knees and his fingers laced behind his neck. He was still shirtless and his magnificent artwork was on full display.

Soft emo music played from the speaker in the kitchen.

“Hey.” Silas’s head snapped up when he heard the door, and the bed squeaked as he stood. “We need to talk.”

My mind went blank. Oh shit, what had happened? I sifted through my memories of the evening, taking stock of what I could have done to earn the dreaded phrase. Ironic how the tables had turned.

“Yeah?” I tried to play it nonchalant. Hopefully any sweating he saw he’d assume came from the steamy shower I’d just taken.

“
Rougher
,” he said. “Tell me about that.” His voice was soft and unassuming, and his expression was supportive. “Does it have to do with the man who . . . gave you the scar?”

I was scrubbing my hair dry with the towel, and everything turned to ice. Silas wasn’t a cop, but he knew more than the average person. He’d probably heard his fair share of domestic violence cases from his family.

My chest constricted.
You said you wouldn’t lie unless you absolutely had to.

“Maybe,” I whispered. “But not like you think.”

He closed the distance between us. His hands settled on mine, tossing away the towel I’d been drying my hair with, like he wanted my full attention. He said it as an offer, not a demand. “Tell me.”

“I don’t like thinking about what happened.”

“I know. You said it was easier not to deal, and it’s none of my fucking business.” His fingertips slipped across my cheekbone, holding my cheek in his palm. “But you can’t push it down forever. That can’t be good.”

I stared up at his icy blue eyes and felt like I was coming undone. Was his hand on me the only thing keeping me standing? I hated the weak feeling, but I was also so tired of avoiding feelings altogether.

“He’d still be alive if it wasn’t for me.” My voice was coated in guilt. “So, the truth is, I feel like I deserve to be punished.” Holy shit, I couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud. “How fucked up is that?”

His eyes went wide, and then his other hand was on my face, trapping me in his gaze. “It was not your fault. You didn’t make him shoot himself.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No,” he said, his voice forceful. “You didn’t. Thinking that is stupid.”

My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“If he wanted out so bad, a guy like that finds a way. Suicide by cop, or he picks a fight in prison with the wrong guy on purpose, whatever. You did the right thing and probably saved lives. He chose to build bombs, just like he chose to take his life. You didn’t make him do either of those things.”

I blinked rapidly against the burning in my eyes. Tears? Forget it. I sucked in a calming breath. Silas was absolutely right, though. Part of me would always carry the guilt, but letting some of it out lessened the burden.

He leaned in to kiss me, but I met him halfway. My kiss was urgent and needy, and I shrugged out of the towel so I could press the length of my naked body against him. I hadn’t done it to provoke him sexually. I’d done it to encourage him to wrap his arms around me, and it worked.

His embrace sent my weakness running.

We tumbled onto the unmade bed, barely breaking the kiss. This was insanity, but fuck it. Most of my instincts had been wrong anyway, why fight it?

“I’d like to keep things casual,” I said. “But I expect sex on the regular and don’t want you being casual with anyone else.”

“Oh?” He murmured it between kisses. “What about you?”

“I’m not interested in being casual with anyone else.”

“Good. I’m glad you’ve decided that you can’t hit it and quit it with me.” He rolled me onto my back, and his head lifted so he could peer down. His eyes were lit with amusement. “I guess now is when I tell you I had a huge crush on Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman
. His fingers toyed with my damp hair, twisting a curl around his finger.