{Exclusive Excerpt} Three Little Mistakes (Blindfold Club #3) by Nikki Sloane (@AuthorNSloane)

I sell sex, sin, and pleasure, but it isn’t just my business, it’s my entire life. I get off on the power of controlling it all. 

She’s the one woman I can’t have. 

She threatens everything, and yet I can’t stay away. There’s a beautiful, sexual creature inside this timid girl that’s desperate to claw its way out. I’m going to set it free, even if it brings my empire tumbling down. 

I have to believe she’ll be worth all the little mistakes I’ve made.

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Exclusive Excerpt - 

Joseph’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Was it the snow falling outside that caused it, or my refusal to answer his question about my favorite sexual position? He was a stranger. How was I supposed to talk about something so intimate?

“Don’t fucking tell me,” his voice sounded very much like horror, “that a beautiful girl like you is saving herself for marriage.”

He thought I was beautiful. Oh my God.

“No, I’m not a virgin,” I said. “I appreciate the compliment, but the profanity, not so much.”

A grin laced with seduction tugged across his face. “Did I offend you, little girl, with my adult language?”

“Hardly.”

“Then, quit stalling and tell me your favorite position.”

“Wow, you’re ridiculous.”

“Let me guess,” he said. “Him on top.”

My gaze swung away so I could stare out the passenger window into the snowy night. He thought I was a timid, shy girl when I’d been trying so damn hard tonight to be someone else. Sure, missionary was nice. I could lie there and enjoy, but I craved more than just that. I let my voice detach and my posture go stiff. “Sure, yeah. You got me.”

Joseph’s playful expression sobered. “Hey, forget it, I’m sorry—”

“I like when he’s behind me.” I blurted it out before I came to my senses. What difference did it make if I told him the truth? There was a wonderful freeness to being honest with a stranger.

He shifted in the driver’s seat like he was settling in, and his voice was low and curious. “Oh, yeah? Why?”

I hesitated, but the goal was to not be me tonight. “I like . . . when he’s in charge.”

“Do you?” Did his breathing pick up? “You like it when he’s got his hands on your waist, fucking you?” I squirmed at his crass word, but it didn’t appear to slow him down. “Or maybe you like one hand wrapped around your throat and the other touching your pussy, as he’s slamming his cock inside you.”

“Oh my God.” Oh my God!

He smirked. “That’s how I like it.”

Now all I could think about was Joseph stripping me naked, bending me over, and taking me so hard it would make my legs tremble. I pictured his hand that grasped the steering wheel now, the one with elegant, long fingers, touching me deep between my legs. I pressed my knees together in the passenger seat, horribly turned on.

What would it feel like to have his hand cup the front of my neck in a dominating gesture while he was inside me? Would I feel controlled? Owned? I clenched my jaw to hold back a moan.

No, I had to try to stay above my lust. I licked my lips and swallowed dryly, willing my enflamed face to cool down. The worst part of me wanted the vision he’d planted in my mind, but my sensible side was stronger.

“Who talks like that to a stranger?” I asked. “Do you want me to jump from your moving car?”

“We both know you’re not going to do that.”

“Oh, yeah?” I snapped. His arrogance was annoying, yet enticing. “What makes you so sure?”

He laughed. “Because I saw your reaction, how your knees squeezed together, and your cheeks flashed red. It turned you on, little girl.”

“Don’t call me that.” The little girl comment should have irritated me, not made me weirdly excited. What was wrong with me?

“Give me something else to call you,” he said. “Like your name.”

I couldn’t. Not just because he’d treat me differently, but because this tiny bit of information was the only piece of power I held over Joseph. I clung to it like a mast in a stormy sea, determined not to drown. I had the strange sense that being powerless to this sexual man could be very, very addictive.

About The Author - 

Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is married and has two sons, writes dirty books, and couldn't be any happier.

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