Page 46 of Blindside Love

I collect these books like trophies, needing to have all my book boyfriends safe on my shelf. I have everything you could think of: Kandi Steiner, T.L. Swan, Elsie Silver, I’ve got it all. Gimme all the forbidden, naughty vibes. And cowboys. Because, let’s be real, cowboys are just hot, especially when written by Elsie. But if I’m being honest, she could publish her grocery list, and I’d pre-order that shit in a heartbeat.

The book Trevor picked up has a hot, shirtless guy on the cover and it happens to be one of my all-smut, no-plot books. With the smile on his face, I’m damn near positive he’s reading something good.

I want to be embarrassed, but for some reason, I’m not. I’m actually happy he knows. It’s exhausting being ashamed of who I am and the things I like. Life’s too short for that shit.

Why should I be ashamed of what I like to read and what I like in the bedroom? It’s only a small fraction of who I am, and I’m proud of the woman I’ve become, every smut-loving, spicy sex-having bit. Tom used to make me feel bad about reading smut and told me it made me a slut. I guess it never occurred to him that he was the actual slut in our relationship.

“You’re a naughty, naughty little kitten,” he says as he sets the book down, his eyes never leaving mine. The tension between us is so thick I feel like I’m not even breathing. In three quick strides, he’s standing in front of me, his body just inches away as he looks down at my mouth before grabbing my hips and spinning me, pressing my back against his chest as he holds me in place, one hand gripping my neck as he nuzzles my ear, grazing it with his teeth.

“Is this what you like? To be manhandled. Tossed around? Moved as I please? Want me to fuck you into oblivion until I’m pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body, and you’re falling apart around my cock? “

I can’t breathe, and it has nothing to do with his hand gripping my throat. Everything he is saying is exactly what I want, and more, but the last time I told a man that I got slut-shamed and told I was dirty.

But this is Trevor. I’m not sure what it is about him, but I feel like I can trust him. Unable to speak, I nod, feeling his hand grip just a smidge tighter. His nose drops to my neck, pausing for a moment before sucking on the sensitive spot right beneath my ear. I feel my pussy clench. It’s like I could come just from his words and his mouth.

“Use your words, kitten. Tell me all the naughty things you dream about doing. I’ll give them all to you and then some,” he says, his mouth pressing kisses along my neck. “I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” I whisper, my breathing shallow against his palm.

“Pinky promise,” he says, his eyes filled with curiosity.

I think for a moment, wanting to trust him, but part of me says I can’t trust anyone. But not everyone is Trevor, and if I’m being honest, Trevor is probably the only reason I have any faith in the male population; he’s just a damn good man. Not only that, though, if last night tells me anything, it’s that Sawyer might’ve been right, and Trevor does also like it a little rough, just like me.

Inhaling deeply, I take a leap of faith.

“I don’t like to be in control, well, in the bedroom. I don’t like having to make decisions, it stresses me out, even if it’s for fun. I overthink and can’t enjoy myself,” I explain. “I love having a man who’s so confident in what they can do to me and knows that he can push my body to the very edge of my limits but never actually cross them.”

Trevor doesn’t say anything right away; he just watches me as his other hand slides up my side until he reaches the tiny sliver of skin between my shirt and jeans. Sliding his fingers against me ever so gently, he presses them along the very edge of my jeans until effortlessly popping the button.

“You want someone to own you,” he growls, his voice sending tremors through my body like it has a direct connection to my pussy. “You want them to control you, use you, give you unimaginable amounts of pleasure while they take their own from you, and use you how they please. I understand, kitten,” he says, his nose nuzzling deeper into my neck as he breathes me in. “I can give you that,” he says, his fingers sliding down and toying with my zipper, sliding it down just enough to slip his fingers between my legs.

Sliding through my core, he dips one finger deep inside me, coating himself in my wetness before bringing his fingers back to my clit, rubbing slow, firm circles against it.

“What you haven’t told me is just how far I can take it. That’s what I need to know,” he says, and I don’t see the typical confident man I’m used to, but instead someone who’s on edge. He’s waiting for clarification before continuing on.

I know he’s into rougher stuff, Sawyer told me. That’s why I was more willing to take what I wanted last night. It didn’t seem like he was likely to turn me down or, even worse, treat me the way Tom did and shame me by saying good wives don’t drop to their knees.

“I… I like pain,” I tell him, and his eyes light up like a boy staring at Christmas lights. “I like your hand around my neck. And I liked how your hands gripped my hair last night. I like when a man loses control with me and shows no mercy, whether it be by face fucking me or spanking me, I want it all,” I say, pausing before I go into too much detail. I don’t want to scare him off until I’ve at least learned if there’s an actual reason behind all the sexual confidence that radiates from him.

“I can give you that, but I need you to let me know if I’m taking things too far. Use the color system. If you say yellow, I’ll know we’re close to your line. If we find your line, say red, and I’ll stop”—he pauses, his face turning serious—“but, Ellie, if you ever refer to another man putting his hands on you while my fingers are inside of you, again, I’ll find him and kick his ass.”

Without warning, he removes his hands and lifts me into the air, my legs wrapping around his firm body for the second time in twenty-four hours.

Remind me again how we’re just friends?

“Which one is your bedroom?” he grumbles as he carries me out of my studio.

“Second door on the left,” I manage to spit out before his mouth slams against mine.

He walks through my apartment with such confidence, carrying me like I weigh nothing. He’s so much bigger than me, so much stronger, and I’ve never felt safer than I do at this moment with his arms wrapped around me as he holds me.

When he makes it into my bedroom, he walks over to my bed, tossing me down with a smile. Grabbing my ankle, he pulls me to the edge of the bed, and his hands find the edge of my shirt, lifting it over my head before climbing on top of me. It feels like he’s everywhere all at once, yet I can’t get enough. His hands are touching my body wherever he can, palming my breasts as his lips find mine again, his teeth nibbling on my bottom lip.

I grab the hem of his shirt and lift it up his body, sliding it off before tossing it onto the floor. Grabbing his belt, I undo it faster than ever, the urgency I feel only building with every second that passes. Trevor must feel it too, as he pushes up, bringing us both up to stand. Undoing his jeans, he slides them down, briefs and all, stepping out of them, leaving him completely naked, his cock already hard and more than ready.

Fuck, I want to taste him again. Feel him in my mouth. Make him lose control.

Sliding my jeans down, I feel his hands along my back, unhooking my bra before sliding it off as I step out of my pants. The second we’re naked, he’s on me, kissing me as he falls onto the bed, bringing me down with him so I’m straddling his hips.

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