Page 109 of Blindside Sinner

He presses his thumb against the notch and slides it up—slowly, slowly, slowly—to the next level. The screen darkens a shade or two.

And I feel a subtle buzz between my legs.

The tremor ripples through me from head to toe. It’s dancing right at the edge of my consciousness, just enough to make me bite my lip before I realize what I’m doing. It’s nice, nothing more.

Then he pushes the slider up another notch.

The screen darkens again. More like bubblegum colored now. Beck looks up at me, just in time to see my lip fall from where it was caught between my teeth. I reach out a hand to steady myself against the wall, because the shaking has intensified now. It’s a gentle murmur. My body rocks against it just slightly.

Another notch. Another shade darker.

The heat grows. The shaking comes harder, faster, more unignorable.

“Beck…” I say again, but it’s more of a moan than a protest this time. His grin grows on pace with the slider.

Higher again. We’ve gone from “gentle” to “trembly hips” to “airplane turbulence,” and I have a feeling we’re nowhere close to maxing this thing out.

I put my other hand on his shoulder as my knees start to shiver. I’m edging closer and closer to coming. My lips are parted, my breath faster, and that warm squiggly feeling that he tortured me with for three hours on the bus is back with a vengeance.

“This is too slow,” he complains with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Let’s see how far we can go.”

“Beck, wait, no?—”

But I’m too slow to stop him. He pushes the slider all the way to the maximum. The screen becomes a sexy, whips-and-chains kind of blood red, just as a rocket ship launches itself at my vagina.

And I fall to my knees and come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.

It lasts eons, just ripping through me mercilessly again and again and again. A literal drop of drool passes my parted lips as I shake helplessly in the throes of the orgasm. I can sense Beck’s presence looming above me the whole time while I cling to his leg for dear life.

Finally, it relinquishes me. I’m sore and exhausted, like I just stuck a fork in an electrical socket. I look up at Beck to see him chuckling down at me.

“Jesus, Beck.” I can’t tell if I’m cursing or praying, but I want more. So much more. “Give me that.”

I reach for the phone, but he yanks it away and holds it out of my reach. “No, no, no. I think I’ll be keeping this for the evening.”

“And what exactly is your plan?”

His eyes flash again. “I want you ready and waiting when I win tonight.”

It isn’t like I need much help to be ready and waiting. One look at Beck and I almost don’t even need a touch to come. But no need to let him know that. The man’s ego barely fits in the stadium as it is.

“I promise you nothing,” I snap as I help myself back up to my feet, ignoring his outstretched hand.

“You say that now. But sometime around—oh, I dunno, maybe halfway through the game? I think you’ll be ready to promise me anything I damn well want.”

“Hold on, what?” I can’t just walk around all night with a fully functional Bluetooth vibrator inside of me. I’m going to literally go insane. “What about when you're on the ice? It's just going to be zipping around in there the whole time?”

He purses his lips as he slides the phone in his pocket. “Hm, you're right. Maybe I'll give it to the others during my shift.”

Is it wrong that I find that a little bit hot? Or maybe it’s only hot because right now, a dial tone could send me over the edge.

“I'll tell them it’s a new game and watch you fall apart over and over again right in front of us. Or maybe I'll keep you all to myself. My perfect little toy. Would you like that, Sloan?”

I do the only thing I can do: moan.

But that’s not good enough for him. “Tell me that you want it, Sloan.”

And from his pocket, he gives me a quick zap. I yelp and clap my hands between my legs. The sweat is back with a vengeance.

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