Page 62 of Bad Boy Next Door
“LikeMagic Mike.”
“Magic who?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know that movie.”
He shook his head.
“Take off your clothes. Show me your body.” Although we’d had sex, I’d yet to really take in Nick’s fully nude body, and the anticipation was killing me. I had to keep my legs pressed down to keep from running on stage and ripping his clothes off myself. “Dance. You must have some moves.”
He leaned forward through the light. “Oh, baby. You better believe I’ve got moves. Come on up here and I’ll show you a few.”
My pussy tightened, trying to talk me into doing as he suggested, but this deal was supposed to be about him doing things for me. I couldn’t just cave and do what he wanted—even if it was what I wanted, too.
“Use your imagination,” I said. “Better yet, use the pole.”
He grabbed onto the pole and tugged on it a little. “I don’t want to pull down the ceiling.”
“Just strip, then.” The rest of me was starting to get as impatient as my girl parts.
With a slight shrug, he stepped in front of the pole. Grabbing it, he turned his back to me and bent over. His ass was a work of art in those jeans and he bounced it a few times, but it came off more silly than sexy.
“Take it off!” I shouted, then whistled, doing my best catcall.
His hands disappeared in front of his huge body, and his large back muscles strained against his shirt as he fumbled with something. I hoped he was freeing his dick.
Then, with a long sweep of one arm, he pulled his leather belt out of its loops and tossed it to the side.
I clapped and whistled, and he shifted his hips around, pressing back his ass. Then he turned to face me, his jeans button open, the fly slightly down and his hands rubbing his powerful thighs.
Nick would never be a dancer—not in a million years—but his stiff movements didn’t diminish his sexual energy, his raging manliness. In fact, his slight awkwardness made him even sexier to me.
I sucked in a long breath as his fingers and palms slid over the denim, avoiding direct contact with his package.
Grabbing the pole with one hand, he used his feet to force off one boot, then the other. He paused as if trying to figure out what to do next. He shrugged, then bent to pull off his socks.
I laughed. “Nothing sexier than a man taking off socks.”
Grinning, he threw them at me, then grabbed the hem of his shirt. Now we were getting somewhere.
I tipped my pelvis down, crushing my mound into the chair and hoping to relieve some of the pressure between my legs. It was no use. As close as I felt to an orgasm, humping this chair wouldn’t satisfy the pain of needing Nick deep inside me.
He lifted his shirt, revealing his hard abs and the strong diagonal lines that dipped down beneath his loosened waistband. He dropped the hem, covering himself, and I almost cried out. Then, with his legs spread, he stretched the shirt fabric down and lifted it a few times, teasing me with peeks of his stomach.
Nick’s striptease was more like old-timey burlesque than what the girls did in this club, but whatever it was, I liked it.
He pulled up the shirt to fully expose his chest, then his hand slid over his skin like he was giving himself a sensual massage. I wanted to trace those same paths with my tongue.
Soon, I thought.Soon.
His hand slid over his hard stomach, ducked below the opened waistband, and I couldn’t breathe as I imagined those big, strong fingers grazing the edge of his erection, but he pulled up his hand.
He spun around, turned his back to me, and pulled the shirt off over his head. He tossed it to the side, and his exposed back muscles knotted and flexed with the motion, their power such overkill for the simple action.
One hand on the pole, he dropped the other hand to his package, and he rubbed his balls through his jeans as he walked in a slow circle, looking my way the whole time. I wasn’t certain he could see me with the lights in his eyes, but hoping he could, I ran my index finger over the dampening fabric covering my sex.
Seemingly in response, he stroked the length of his cock, and my entire body reacted in a pulsing wave. The air between us heated, charged with tendrils of energy that connected our nerves to each other’s.
I felt drawn to him, and I realized I’d slid as far forward as the seat of the chair would allow, my crotch pushing toward the stage, toward Nick.
