Page 22 of Blindside Sinner

I’ve always liked sex. Who doesn’t? But I didn’t realize that, by making it impossible to have, it would become the only thing on my mind. The idea of making Sloan take Stacy’s place has been running through my head with every rep I crank out. As is the reminder that I could have any woman I want—until now.

It’s driving me insane.

That’s the only excuse I have for what I do next. I drop my dumbbells to the ground and pace the room like it’s my fucking cage as more thoughts of Sloan spring to my mind. Desperate thoughts.

I want her as pent up as I am.

I want to see her go wild.

I can’t touch her, but I can make her as crazy as she is making me.

An idea peeks through the mayhem. I’m out the door before I can second-guess myself. Not that it would matter—once I’ve decided on a path, that’s the one I’m taking and this is only the beginning.

All Sloan’s done since she’s got here is nip at my heels.

Now, it’s my turn to bite back.

The spare key slips into the lock of her apartment easily, giving me access to a place I’ve never stepped foot in.

It’s cozy. The walls are mostly white, with some painted a deep forest green. The furniture throughout is deep blue mixed with dark woods. The rugs are soft gray and blues. It’s like standing beside a river in the woods.

The scheme flows into her bedroom—my target—making the whole place soothing. Peaceful. The urge to shatter that peace is almost a compulsion.

Without giving myself a chance to think it through, I pull open the top drawer of Sloan’s bedside table and stare, taking in everything at once.

When she mentioned it earlier, I knew what she meant. It’s not a surprise that a single woman has toys, but this is something else.

Dildos of all shapes and sizes with suction cups on the bottom, vibrators with bunny ears and little roses that pulse and suck. Satin bags hidden in the back have my fingers twitching to unwrap them, desperate to unveil what else Sloan’s got. The whole drawer is a treasure trove of sex toys just waiting for the little she-devil to take them out.

Fuck, why is that so hot?

Probably because I can see her stepping into the room after a long day of tolerating my bullshit, her eyes weary but her body tight. I bet this drawer is the first place she stops after she leaves me each night.

I have the most intense desire to watch it happen.

As much as I enjoy annoying her, Sloan isn’t the type to let her walls down for anyone. I bet she’s spectacular when she comes.

It’d be so easy to imagine. I can picture her in the shower, her moans muffled by the water as she fucks herself with a suction toy or the detachable shower head.

I can picture her on the couch, her hand down her panties as she rubs her clit and calls up her wildest fantasies.

I can picture her in the bed, legs spread and body flush as she rides the vibrator until she comes in a sputtering, whimpering mess. Writhing on the sheets as that little flower consumes her clit.

In her room, surrounded by Sloan’s things, I can practically taste her on my tongue. I shake my head to get rid of the unwanted thoughts before I do something stupid about them.

Then I reach into the bedside drawer and do what I came here to do: snatch every single cord and battery that I can find.

Let’s see how frustrated she gets with just her inadequate little fingers to get her off.

I head back into the house, more relaxed than I’ve been all day. After the clusterfuck of a morning, it’s a surprise to feel myself sink easily into my game day headspace. I’m not worried about my place on the team or frustrated about some shit Sloan’s pulled.

I’m calm. Eager. Ready to dominate the ice.

As I go upstairs for a desperately needed shower, I let myself think about everything. Pushing Sloan’s buttons is becoming an addiction that I’m pretty damn sure I shouldn’t indulge—and also one that I’m positive I can’t control.

It’s obvious my plan has changed. I still want her gone…

But I think I need a taste of her before she goes.

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