Page 112 of Blindside Sinner

My guess is that she’s fighting off a powerful fucking need to come all over my face. And if she thinks I’m finished with her, she’s so wrong.

“You guys coming out? Celebrate the win?”

It’s a good question, and as soon as he asks it, my grin stretches one tooth wider. I don’t know how much more Sloan can take, but we’re going to find out.

She pushes off the wall just as I slide my finger over the screen. She gets a little buzz, but not a full-on explosion, so she onlysucks in a short little breath and then shoots me a withering glare.

Hm. If she still has enough presence of mind to dothat,then maybe I’ve been too kind tonight after all.

I dial it up another notch—and she promptly stumbles to one knee like she just got sniped from the rafters.

Dix rushes over to her, concerned. “Jesus, Sloan, you okay?”

“Yeah,” she grits out through clenched teeth. “I’m good. I just… tripped.”

Chuckling to myself, I lower the voltage. Dixon helps Sloan to her feet. “Are you coming out with us tonight? We’re hitting a chophouse and maybe a bar. Winners get whiskey.” He leans toward her and adds in a fake whisper, “You know my boy Beck can’t come along unless you do.”

She flips a glance at me. “What do you think, Beck?” I don’t miss how her voice is a couple notes higher than normal.

“Oh, yeah. We’re in for a long night.”

“Excellent!” crows Dixon.

Sloan mouths,I hate you.

I just keep on grinning.

“Can you give us a lift?” I ask Dixon.

“You bet. Adrian and Col are going to ride with us, too.” He starts walking out and I follow, Sloan falling in line beside us. “You know LaDuke. He never rents a car and Col rode in with me.”

“To have a contract like his and still not spend a single penny if he can help it… Mind-boggling. LaDuke is the king of tight asses.”

In my pocket, I set the vibrator app to a low-intensity pulse. Wave up, wave down, just enough to remind Sloan it’s still there. I hear her breathing hard behind me.

Tonight will be very fun indeed.

We wait for the others and then climb into Dixon’s rented Escalade. He fires it up and we go ripping out of the parking lot.

“Jesus,” Sloan says with a grimace, “you drive like you skate, Dixon.”

“Like a gazelle?”

“Like a maniac.”

The next turn sends her halfway into my lap. I catch her and straighten her back upright, though I let my fingers trail over her thigh a little longer and more intimately than is strictly speaking necessary.

I can feel the vibrator through the seat. In my pocket, I kick the ferocity to its max power. I laugh out loud at the sight of a single bead of sweat forming on Sloan’s temple.

Her fingernails dig into my thigh hard enough to draw blood. “Please…” she begs. “Stop.”

I lean down to whisper in her ear. “You’re doing great, baby. Just a few more hours.”

“Fuck you, Beckett.”

“If you’re a good girl, maybe I will.”

My dick is straining against the zipper of my slacks and I am dying to yank that vibrator out of her and replace it with my dick. She may not realize it, but I’m torturing myself right now, too.

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