Page 60 of Bad Boy Next Door
His breath hitched as his eyes consumed me.
A thrum of desire pounded in my bloodstream at the pure power and pleasure in knowing I had such an obvious effect on this man. This man, who could crush me with one hand—a man who was double my weight and a wall of muscle—was paralyzed in the hallway, struck dumb and frozen by the sight of me.
I loved it.
Across the ten feet between us, I felt his gaze on my skin, heard his quickening heartbeat, sensed his overwhelming arousal, like it could communicate with my womb.
Every part of me wanted him. Wanted him so badly I wasn’t sure I had the patience to see through this game I had planned.
He whistled out a jagged breath. “Shit, Jade.”
“I don’t look stupid in this get up?” I tugged on the back of the super-short shorts.
“Stupid’s not the first word that comes to mind,” he growled. He looked at me like prey, but tonight I was the predator.
I dangled the handcuffs from my index finger and then crooked it, instructing him to follow.
“What are you planning to do with those?” he asked.
“Silence.” I slapped the wall with the crop, and his eyes widened. “You will speak only when spoken to.”
“Yes ma’am. Oops. Did I already break the rules?”
He mimicked buttoning his lips, and I whacked the wall again, relishing the satisfying sound of the leather crop striking the painted wall. “Test me again and you’ll be sorry.”
Lifting his palms in surrender and clearly fighting a grin, he stepped forward. Light cast from a caged bulb struck the bulge in his jeans and stroked the planes of his chest. It lit him so perfectly I could see the outline of the six-pack under his shirt.
It was my turn to gasp.
My insides pulsed, my whole body pulsed. I needed him so badly it hurt, so badly I couldn’t breathe and couldn’t remember why I’d been mad.
Why, after learning what it was like to feel the power of this man moving inside me, I had allowed eleven nights to go by before making it happen again.
So much wasted time. Such a dummy.
But I wasn’t so much of a dummy that I’d let this little sex-slave game end before it got started. I’d all but dropped my revenge motive, but he didn’t need to know that, and making him do what I wanted was bound to be fun.
“Come!” I turned. Letting my ass stick out more than was necessary, I sashayed along the hall and into the main room of the club.
Ever since he’d made his proposition this afternoon, I’d been imagining what I could do to Nick—make Nick do to me—but that didn’t mean I had the faintest idea of what to do in this moment, or how this would really play out.
I decided to start with a striptease. Great way to get his clothes off.
I grabbed the legs of one of the chairs upturned on a table for the night. His hand landed on top of mine, his body hot and huge behind me.
“Let me.” His deep voice rumbled through my body like an earthquake.
I stepped to the side and gestured with a slight bow as he pulled the chair from the table and set it down.
When I didn’t sit immediately, he looked at me expectantly. But I’d already changed my plans.
“Sit.” I used the riding crop to guide his shoulder, and Nick lowered himself onto the chair, spreading his legs wide and resting his hands on his thighs.
“Hands behind your back,” I commanded as I dragged the crop down his expanding chest.
He lowered his arms to his sides.
“Hold the chair. Don’t let go.”
