“Okay. In Vegas, what I did with the girl from the strip club...” I trailed off.
“Montana,” he prompted.
“Right. Montana. That turned me on, but not because of her, though she was really hot. What turned me on was, ah, the group of people. Around us. Like, watching.”
“Okay. That’s good to know. So you liked to be watched. Do you want a group of people watching?”
“God, no—not right now at least. I was thinking just you, me and someone else, for starters.”
“Okay. So you want to be with a girl or a guy?”
I looked up from my ohsoexciting grits and bit my lower lip nervously. “I’m thinking a guy. Is that...okay?”
“Of course.” He spooned eggs into his mouth as if we were having a completely normal conversation. For him, maybe it is. “Do you want to go to a club and pick a guy, or do you want me to give you a choice?”
“Well, if it’s at a club, we won’t know anything about the person, right?”
“Right.”
“Is there anybody you’ve done this with before? That you could...use again?”
He kept a straight face and considered my question. “I have a guy that you might like. He’s good—quiet and respectful—very...ah...well-endowed.”
I tried to keep a neutral look on my face and nodded. “Then let’s go with him. I just want someone who knows what they’re doing, since I don’t. And someone who isn’t, you know, sleazy or dirty.”
He leaned over and kissed me gently, so gently I felt pain at the quick release; I wanted more so badly. “So we’re good to go, Miss Campbell,” he whispered.
I shoveled eggs into my mouth and looked at him nervously. Good to go. I guess.
Thirty-Two
I knelt on the floor, a pillow underneath my knees. Blindfolded, I listened intently, waiting for a sign of what was to come. Only the hum of the hotel air conditioner met my ears. Seconds passed, then a minute. Finally, I heard the door open and then click shut. Footsteps, muted on the carpet, behind me, I felt, rather than heard, a male presence pass by my side and come to stand in front of me. Close, so close. I leaned backward slightly. The sound of a zipper being drawn down filled the silent room.
“Relax.” It was Brad’s voice. Deep and strong. For the first time, I appreciated his strength, his control. I leaned forward, wanting the connection of his cock in my mouth, my hands reaching out to grab his pants. He seized my outstretched hands, pulling me to my feet instead, and moved me backward till I felt the bed behind me.
“Lie down. Facedown.”
I obeyed, all of my senses alert, listening for him, the unknown, anything. I heard the crackle of lit candles and smelled their fragrance mixed with the lavender scent of the expensive sheets I was lying on. I felt a flow of air and then felt a second presence in the room, though I can’t explain how. Someone got on the bed; it sank beneath his weight, the springs sighing softly in the dark. I stiffened, not sure what was about to happen, my eyes wide beneath the blindfold.
A hand touched my calf and I flinched, surprised at the contact. Then I relaxed. The hand ran up my leg and I felt another hand, this one on my other leg. Briefly, the hands stopped, disappearing, then touched me again a few moments later, this time with the lubrication and warmth of massage oil. I felt a third and a fourth hand, rubbing my arms and back. They moved in slow, unrushed strokes, lingering and teasing, running down the sides of my body, grazing the sides of my breasts. I groaned softly, enjoying the wonderfully strange feeling of four hands on my body.
In the darkness, a man’s voice said, “God, she’s hot.” It wasn’t Brad’s voice. The stranger.
One set of hands wrapped underneath my stomach and moved up, sliding under my body. They cupped my breasts and gently squeezed, kneading, and I moaned again, louder this time, and rose off the bed slightly, wanting more. I was pushed down and the hands on my breasts released, roaming up the sides of my body. I felt my legs being pulled apart till I was wide-open, exposed, and my breath hitched a little in my throat. There was silence and no touches for a moment. I tensed, imagining them circling me, looking at me, my thighs parted wide, nothing covering me, open for their examination.
Fingers ran up the inside of my calves, past the backs of my knees, my thighs, and then to the slit between my legs. They grabbed my ass and gripped the cheeks firmly, spreading them. I felt warm breath hit the tight pucker of my ass and blow, then the hot air moved lower to my open slit, and wetness pooled there. A finger followed the breath and ran from my ass to my pussy, and back again, gently rubbing, teasing, making my stomach curl, my pleasure grow. I moaned and tried to push against the finger, wanting, needing some kind of penetration. The finger dipped inside me for a brief moment, and was then gone again. I panted, and arched my butt up in the air, offering my slit to whoever was in between my spread legs. Someone moaned, and then a face was pressed to me, a hot, wet pulsing sensation—tongue—on my clit, and dipping inside me. I bucked on the bed, grasping the sheets, my mouth opening in silent ecstasy.
There was a voice in my ear, quiet and strong. Brad.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice husky. I nodded furiously, my hands reaching out till I felt his muscled skin. I gripped it tight. He moved out of my reach and I moaned. The mouth between my legs was doing incredible, twisted things to me, and I felt my body flexing and arching in the swells of pleasure. I pressed harder against his mouth, his face buried in me, and bit my bottom lip. I heard a zipper in the darkness, close to my head. The tongue on my clit slowed, then stopped. I spread my legs farther, begging with my body for more.
“Flip over.” Brad’s voice again. Authoritative. I instantly complied, desperate for more stimulation. There was a slight breeze, and I heard a door click shut. My eyes snapped open under the blindfold.
“Julia, it’s been fifteen minutes. Do you want to stop?” Brad’s voice came through the darkness to me. He sounded far away, over by the door.
I had never heard a more ridiculous question in my entire life. “No,” I gasped.
He moved closer, his voice now close. “Do you want to take it to the next level or keep it here?”
“Next level,” I whispered, almost moaning the words.
He moved. I heard fabric rustle and floors creak, then there was a flicker of air and the stranger was back. The door clicked shut again.
On my back I waited, unsure of what to do. Hands came again, two at my head and two at my feet. Strong, confident. The two at my head ran down my arms, squeezing them gently. The ones at my feet spread my legs wide and played with my soaking-wet pussy, gently cupping me and sliding a finger in and out. A hand grabbed one wrist, then the other, and held them above my head. A hot mouth nibbled my neck, kissing and sucking, traveling down to my breasts, encircling a nipple and gently tugging on it. I bucked against the man holding my arms back and raised my chest, finally wrenching a hand free and grabbing the back of a head, hair coarse and unfamilar, holding his mouth against my nipple, his tongue teasing and torturing it, then guiding him to the other one. The fingers in me stilled, then withdrew. I froze, the head under my hand also moving away, then I felt the bed move as both men climbed up onto it.
Their weight on either side of me, I reached out and felt them kneeling near my waist. One was clearly Brad, the one on my left. His thick, muscular thighs gave him away. I explored with my other hand, curious about the second man. His lower thighs were thinner, average, with hair lightly covering them. Tentatively, shyly, I moved my hand higher on his bare thigh till I brushed—wait. I frowned and paused. That couldn’t have been...I moved my hand again. It was. His cock. But in a place I didn’t expect it, much lower than it should have been. Jesus. The cock was thinner—not the huge girth of Brad’s, but ridiculously long, easily over ten inches. Circus cock. I heard Brad chuckle, and I tried to fix the shocked look I must have had o
n my face. Bolder, I moved my hand over the shaft, grabbing it tightly. It was rock hard, and his hand was still wrapped around its base. He released himself and I stroked slowly, then firmly and more confidently. My other hand moved on Brad, stroking him also, loving the feel of both of them hard in my hands at the same time. They shifted down on the bed so that they both hung above my blindfolded face. While I jacked them off, their hands roamed, one traveling over my tits and neck, one reaching down between my legs. It was Brad’s hand on my breasts. I realized that after he cupped my face, turning it to him, and leaned over, brushing my lips with his. Then his mouth opened and his tongue dipped into mine, softly, sweetly, then stronger, passionate, possessive. He ended the kiss and rubbed my swollen lips with his fingers.
The hand at my legs rubbed lightly, so lightly it almost tickled, over my mound, focusing on the wet nub that was my clit, then a little harder, strumming it insistently. I ground against his hand, his fingers creating a swarm of sensation, an aching in my core. I whimpered, forgetting them in my hands, focusing on the growing pleasure, the building need. I was close, so close, when Brad moved. He left my side and then I felt him at the bottom of the bed, his warm, large body between my legs. He raised my legs, pointing my feet to the sky, and tested my wetness with his finger.
“God, you’re so wet,” he breathed, removing his finger. Seconds later, the thick, stiff head of his dick bumped, then slid into me, filling me in every way. I gasped. The second man tightened his grip on my breast, and Brad moved slowly, sliding in and out of me in an excruciatingly slow movement that only left me wanting more. He felt too good in me, it was unfair how perfectly he fit inside me—almost too big, almost painful, but overwhelmingly wonderful. I groaned and brought the hand holding the cock close to my mouth, licking my lips. The man above me gasped, then pressed his dick against my open, wet mouth.
“Please,” he said, his voice thick.
I obliged, sucking it hard, forcing the length of it down my throat and gagging on its length. Gagging on the cock made me wet, lubricating the thickness inside me. I sucked urgently, wanting both of them, everything, all at once. The stranger grew even harder in my mouth, and his fast breaths fueled my arousal. I put his ten inches as far down my throat as I could, wanting to feel the base of him against my lips.
Brad groaned between my legs. “You look so fucking hot,” he ground out, and quickened his thrusts, burying himself inside me with every stroke. The increased speed and the friction from his width caused me to contract inside, and I could feel the swells of pleasure starting to grow. I continued my attack of the stranger’s cock, sucking and pumping, increasing speed. I reached with my other hand, grabbing his balls—hairless—gently tugging them. Without warning my orgasm came, exploding within me strongly and suddenly, and I yanked my mouth off the stranger, crying aloud and arching my back, pointing my feet, the orgasm ripping through my body, taking every coherent thought out of my mind. I heard the man above me moan, and the slick sound of him jacking off, hard and fast above my face.
“I’m about to come,” he said, his voice quickening.
“Julia—where do you want it?” Brad’s voice came from between my legs, where he continued his relentless fucking, hard and fast.
“On me, please.” I squeezed my breasts, arching and offering them to him. As my body shook from Brad’s thrusts, the cum rained, covering my breasts and hands, spraying my throat. I felt a few drops hit my lips and I licked them, tasting sweet cum. I pulled my hands to my mouth, greedily licking the drops off my fingers and sucking them hard. Brad groaned and yanked his cock out then, moving swiftly up on my body until I felt him in front of me. I heard him rip off his condom and I reached forward eagerly, found his cock and sucked it quickly, jacking off the swollen shaft with my hand. It twitched hard, and powerfully, and he came, filling my mouth with thick, hot squirts. I swallowed hard and fast, continuing to jack him off until I was sure he was empty.
Thirty-Three
Rule 7: Once it is over, leave quickly. We will want to be alone. No goodbyes are necessary.
I lay back, weak, euphoric, letting go of Brad’s cock. My legs, which were bent, flopped straight, limp and useless. I felt the bed lighten by one body. There was the familiar breeze of air—the door—the sound of it shutting, of steps in the outside hall. I felt the remaining weight on the bed, and worried for a brief moment that it was the stranger. Then the edge of my blindfold was pulled off my head. My eyes opened to darkness and it took a moment for me to see in the candlelit room.
Brad was lying on his side, his muscular torso emphasized by the shadows, looking ridiculously tempting despite my sated state. I turned on my side so that we were facing each other. He smoothed my hair back and smiled at me.
“Well?” he said softly.
“Well...” I said in response, with a lazy smile.
“What’d you think?”
I thought for a minute, playing with his chest hair with my fingers, scooting closer to him and exploring the ridges of his upper body. I searched myself for a pang of regret, for guilt, for diminished self-worth, and felt nothing but extreme sexual satisfaction. I stretched luxuriously and Brad’s eyes traveled down, feasting on my swollen nipples and my shaved, still-wet crotch. He bit his lip and gave me a suggestive look. I rolled my eyes, pushed his hand away and covered up with the sheet.
He yanked it back, eliciting a strangled protest from me, and pulled me close to him, his hot skin heaven to my cold body. He wrapped a strong leg around me, holding me prisoner, his scent overtaking me, and I inhaled it deeply, wanting more than he could ever physically give me.
He leaned forward and kissed me lightly, then tilted my chin up, looking into my eyes. “Tell me. Did you enjoy it? Are you gonna take off running now?” His eyes were concerned, vulnerable, pools of dark need, the most exposed I had ever seen him.
I wanted to leave him hanging and play coy, but in his vulnerability I saw possibility—that he could care, that he could be mine, wholly and completely. If the night’s experience was any indicator, this lifestyle, this arrangement, was something that I could not only deal with, but could enjoy, could want, could need.
His question hung unanswered in the darkness. His hands tightened on my chin as he tensed, waiting for a reply.
Am I going to take off running?
“Straight to you, baby,” I whispered. “Straight to you.”
A tentative smile started on his lips and grew till it stretched across his face. He released my chin and leaned forward, kissing me, grabbing the back of my head. Our kiss started out celebratory, but our naked bodies pressed together, the energy between us exploding, and everything changed, like everything else about our relationship, in an instant. His hand gripped my ass, squeezed it hard and pulled me even closer, flush against his cock, already hard and ready.
And there, in the quiet room with the candles casting crazy silhouettes on the wall, my eyes now able to take everything in, we made love, sensually and slowly, until the candles burned out and the wax became cold. In the kisses, caresses and erotic pleasures, we celebrated the unknown future.
* * * * *
Find out what happens next for Brad and Julia....
The sequel to BLINDFOLDED INNOCENCE
will be available soon from Alessandra Torre and Mills & Boon Spice.
ISBN: 978 1 472 07453 9
BLINDFOLDED INNOCENCE
© 2012 Alessandra Torre
Published in Great Britain 2012
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
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Alessandra Torre, Blindfolded Innocence
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