Three Little Mistakes (Blindfold Club, #3)

by Nikki Sloane

I could be charming. My eyes were kind and my smile warm, or so I’d been told, and I played up the old southern accent I used to have when needed. I disarmed. No one suspected the wolf beneath my surface, and only a handful of people knew about him.

Joseph Monsato reeked of confidence, power, and authority. I’d spent my life around men like him, so I knew it in an instant, but his power was different than what I was used to. Persuasive and . . . sexual. He wasn’t a model, but his body sold sex and sin, and I’d never seen a more fascinating creature.

I’d made the decision tonight to do the opposite of anything normal, sensible Noemi would do.

He drew my bottom lip in and bit down gently, forcing a startled noise from me. I sounded as if I needed air, panting and gasping like I was drowning on dry land. I was. I was drowning in his kiss.

I’d use Joseph to drive away the scared girl. That is, if his enormous dick didn’t kill me first.

All thought vaporized, other than I’d made a little, terrible mistake. “Son of a bitch.” It felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Her first orgasm that wouldn’t have been self-induced, I’d pushed back in a moment of spite. How much damage did I do, when so much of the female orgasm was mental? I could have been the first man to get her off. No, fuck it. I would be the first man.

Joseph often had demanding eyes, but he also had soft, warm ones, too. He was straightforward, but didn’t treat me like I was inferior just because I was inexperienced. I somehow felt equal with him.

Shame flooded through me and I pressed my face against the pillow. “No.” His voice was commanding. “You’re not allowed to feel guilty about that. As long as you’re mine, you never feel shame about what we do.”

His mouth slammed against mine. Oh my God, it was so hot. He kissed me like he both hated and loved me, and I clung to him, unable to stand on my own. His untamed kiss was paralyzing yet freeing, a contradiction I was beginning to love.

Holy fucking God, who was I? A plug in my ass, a belt around my throat like a leash. I should have been horrified and shivering with fear, not shaking with excitement.

“Nothing lasts forever,” she read. “Except, you know, a permanent tattoo.” Her fingers continued to trace the contours. “Do I need to give you and my tattoo a moment alone?” She grinned. “Could you? That’d be great.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m sort of thirsty.” “Me, too. What do you want?” “There’s a pitcher of some red . . . stuff in the fridge.” “Red stuff? What is it?” She made a weird face. Embarrassment, and it was fucking cute. “I don’t want to tell you.” “Why not?” “Because it’s not exactly a sophisticated drink and the little girl comment is going to come out of your mouth.” I laughed, figuring it out. “Oh, please tell me it’s cherry Kool-Aid.” “It’s not.” She scowled. “It’s fruit punch Kool-Aid. Don’t judge me.”

She exhaled and closed her eyes. “Did he even knock?” “Sure didn’t.” She shook her head. “He’s, like, completely unaware of anyone else. He didn’t used to be that way.” “It’s too bad he didn’t show up thirty minutes ago when you were choking on my cock. He might have noticed that.”