Page 1 of Blindsided

PROLOGUE

EASTON

COLLEGE

“Sir.” Lincoln’s voice came across thready and filled with need. With his hands holding tightly to the St. Andrew’s cross and his feet spread apart, he was fucking gorgeous. He’d been gorgeous before we’d begun the scene, but with his beautiful tan skin marked by my flogger, he was next-level amazing. I still found myself questioning how it was that Lincoln had chosen me, even before he’d known I was a Dom, before he’d discovered his submission.

In the last two years, I’d become well acquainted with what his plea meant and my flogger came down again, the worn yellow leather falls striking his exposed ass. Damn, I love the way his jocks frame his cheeks and create a target for me to focus my strikes. “Don’t you dare come.” My own words were deep and commanding. The last thing I wanted was for Lincoln to come right then, no matter how sexy his punishment would be. He’d waited so long to come and had earned it.

Just not right now.

Lincoln whimpered at my words. It had been a week since the last time his dick had been free from the cage I’d locked it in before I’d headed out with the team. We’d had a series of away games that had kept us from campus for the better part of a week and we’d returned Friday night. Lincoln had been busy with his economics midterm and had been with a study group until the wee hours of the morning, though, and I’d only known he’d returned to his room because of the text he’d sent me well after I’d fallen asleep.

Twenty-four hours later, we’d finally escaped to the local kink club and I’d been selfishly filling my tank with Lincoln’s sexy body and needy sounds for the last two hours—from arriving and carefully removing his cage, to teasing his cock until I thought he’d explode in my hand, to having him kneel at my feet and warm my cock with his mouth while I chatted with a fellow Dom, to finally directing him to the cross where I was making sure to mark him well enough that he’d be feeling it the next day. With a few strategic strikes of the flogger, he’d be reminded of this night for the next several days with no one else the wiser.

I wanted him to come; I wanted to come. I wanted to put back together each piece of the carefully in-control man I’d spent the last two hours taking apart. Then I wanted to wrap my body around him as he drifted in subspace while I kept every thought, pressure, and worry from him until he came back to reality.

If I could, I’d take those things from him all the time, but my life wasn’t one to lend itself to being in one place for long. More of the winter and spring was spent away from school rather than at it. Chasing my lifelong dream of playing professional hockey had landed me as a starter for Yale, a school with not only fantastic academics but also a Division 1 hockey team. Two years later, I’d just been drafted into the NHL and was now focused on playing my best hockey in hopes of one day hitting professional ice for the first time.

It wasn’t like Lincoln wanted to be a kept man anyway. He was strong and had a way of commanding a room. He would do great things with his life—I just hoped I would be enough for him to choose me to be the one he came to when he had enough of changing the world for the day.

His intelligence intimidated me more than any opponent I’d ever faced on ice. Lincoln could have fallen for any person on a campus filled with brilliant students, yet he’d picked me. Me, the ginger-haired hockey player without two dimes to rub together, chasing a dream that most people thought was impossible while trying to keep my grades up in order to retain the scholarship that got me into Yale in the first place.

That last part was how the two of us met during our freshman year.

Lincoln had been the brainiac who spoke like a world-traveled man, wise beyond his years, while I’d tried to hide my Midwestern rancher roots to fit in at a college so far out of my league I’d thought the scholarship letter was a joke for nearly a week after it had arrived at our home. To top it all off, I had still been figuring out that I was a kinky fuck.

Yale was a far cry from my hometown in upstate Minnesota, where I’d grown up on a working ranch. My summers had been spent working my tail off on my family’s ranch and my winters had been dedicated to hockey. I’d played for the high school team my freshman year, then an elite travel team the last three. If I hadn’t been traveling all over the US and Canada, I’d been on one of the countless frozen ponds or lakes around our home. I’d always known I didn’t quite fit in at home. There had always been something I knew I was missing that had nothing to do with the fact that I wasn’t attracted to girls.

It hadn’t been until I’d arrived in Connecticut and gotten mostly settled into college life that I’d discovered BDSM and finally understood why it was that I had never fit in at home. I’d still been figuring out that part of myself when Lincoln had entered my life. Two years, many uncomfortable discussions, and more than a few awkward BDSM scenes later, we were at a club while I gave him everything I could until we could do this again.

“Five more. You can do it, baby. Count them for me.” I silently begged him to be able to take the five without spilling his load into his jock. Lincoln loved the embarrassment of coming without permission while we were around others, but that was after we’d talked about it. He hadn’t had a hard-on in a week much less an orgasm, and I knew I was pushing him.

He grunted and nodded, his soft black waves falling into his face, but he held firmly to the cross in front of him. Pride swelled in my chest. “Good boy. What a good boy you are for me.” The flogger landed on the back of his thighs and he gasped.

When Lincoln didn’t say anything, I flicked the flogger and the ends of the leather falls snapped against his ass. The action wasn’t enough to leave a mark but it was enough to get his attention, and he startled. “Count.”

“O-o-one. Sorry, Sir.”

“That’s better. Count or there will be more.”

Lincoln nodded his understanding. “Yes, Sir.”

I brought the flogger down again, this time across his shoulders, and waited as he hissed out a breath before steadying himself. “Two, Sir.”

The next contact was a few inches lower and it took him a few more seconds to respond. “Th-th-ree.” After a moment’s pause, he managed to find a stronger voice. “Three, Sir.”

“What a good boy. That’s it. So good for me.” I landed the fourth hit, barely a graze, to the area just above the swell of his ass.

Lincoln’s back straightened and he moaned loudly before counting. “Four, Sir.”

I was so proud of him and let him know it as I landed the fifth and final hit to the underside of his ass, right where his thighs met his cheeks and right where I knew he loved being teased. His cry of pleasure echoed in the playroom and I thought he’d come before he adjusted and managed to look at me through his heavy-lidded eyes. “Five, Sir. Five. And I didn’t come. Please, Sir. Please let me come.”

Pride and lust combined with the love I had for the man in front of me as I worked to take his hands from the cross and lead him to a private room. Sometimes, fucking him in the middle of the room for all to watch was exhilarating. Listening to him beg to come while gaining the attention of others around us was a high even being drafted into the NHL a few months earlier didn’t touch. Other times, like tonight, I wanted his cries to be all for me. I wanted to be selfish and have him all to myself.

With my horny and well-flogged submissive in my arms, we headed toward the private rooms where I quickly found a vacant one, laid him out on the bed, and proceeded to free him from his jock before turning my attention to my own clothes. It was more of a workout than I cared to admit as I stripped myself of my leather pants and my bruised ribs from the last game we’d played protested the movement. My need for Lincoln overrode the pain receptors in my brain, though.

I stripped slowly, Lincoln’s eyes never leaving my body, and his dick pulsed its approval at my every move. Being worshipped by a man as sexy as Lincoln was heady and I found myself flexing just a little bit more with every move. When I finally crawled into bed with him, I felt at home in a way I hadn’t since we’d been together the weekend before.

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