Page 63 of Bad Boy Next Door
Sliding his hands to the sides of his jeans, he pushed them lower on his hips, revealing the line of dark hair that decorated his lower stomach. I was so focused I couldn’t blink as my eyes anticipated that denim moving farther.
Then with a strong push, the fabric slid down to his thighs and his majestic thick cock burst from its confinement, hard, dark red and slick under the lights as it bounced free. He hissed in a sharp breath, like the air in the room had sucked on his dick like my lips wanted to.
I stood and he scrambled to remove the jeans, stepping on the hem of one leg, then the other to drag them off. When he was naked before me, all I wanted was to touch him, to be on the stage with him, but I stood for a few moments, drinking him in.
Unsure of my next move, I grabbed the crop and the cuffs and stepped onto the stage.
He reached for me.
Stepping back, I shook my head. “Not so fast there, cowboy. This ismyrodeo.”
He shot me a wicked grin, and I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to tease him, then ride him, have him bucking like a bronco beneath me, inside me. Under my control.
“Back against the pole,” I commanded.
He complied quickly, his cock bouncing in response to the movement, semen glistening to highlight the slit at its head.
“Hands behind your back.”
He reached behind and I slowly walked around, loving how his chest rose and fell with each breath, how the lights accentuated the ridges of his abs and shone off his cock. Part of me wanted to use the crop to spank him, but I wasn’t really into that kind of thing, and when I caught another close-up view of the hard-sculpted mounds of his ass, the idea of marking that skin seemed criminal.
Instead, I walked around him and used the crop to trace the curves and planes of his chest, of his back, his abs, loving how his body responded to even the slightest touch, and how sweat rose on his pecs and lower back. Sweat I planned to lick off.
Taking the cuffs, I attached them to one wrist. “Pull your arms closer together.”
His back muscles knotted as he drew his wrists closer together behind the pole. I secured them. His hands bound, the pole between his wrists and his ass, I let mine connect with his skin, my fingers and palms exploring his hard ridges, tracing through all his dips and valleys. I shivered as his muscles flexed and tightened under my touch.
“Fuck, Jade,” he hissed. “You’re going to make me come.”
I hadn’t even gone near his cock.
Looking up into his eyes, I trailed my fingertips low on his belly, playing with the hair there, avoiding direct contact with his pulsing erection.
“Don’t come yet,” I said, trying to channel my inner dominatrix. “Don’t come until I say so.”
With that, I took hold of his erection, hard and hot on my palm and fingers. He hissed, his hips shifting forward as if trying to fuck my hand or at least create some friction between us.
Even in my hand, his cock felt so good, and my insides throbbed in response. It was beyond tempting to bend down to suck him into my mouth or to release his arms so I could jump into them and let him drive inside me, but I wanted this to last. I wanted to explore every part of him, and I wasn’t nearly finished.
I traced down his hard thighs, circling the protruding hard muscle that joined to his knees. Then I stroked down his shins and calves, iron covered in velvet.
It didn’t seem possible, but as I touched him his dick had grown darker, even harder—like a spike. Hands on his thighs, I leaned forward to kiss the tip.
“Fuuuuck!” His head snapped back against the pole.
“Sit down,” I said, shocked at the husky need in my voice.
Bending his legs and leaning against the pole, he lowered himself to the ground. Standing in front of this man, his hands immobilized, his cock fully erect for me, I’d never felt quite so sexy.
Spreading my legs in my thigh-high boots, I ran the riding crop over my body, stroking my belly, my breasts, running it between my legs and enjoying the response so obvious in his eyes.
I teased my pussy with the crop, stroking myself, barely able to control my legs’ shaking when the crop’s end rubbed my clit through the thin vinyl shorts. Turning away from him, I bent to give him a good look between my legs.
“Closer,” he said gruffly. “I want to fuck you with my tongue.”
“Maybe. If you’re good.” Still bent, I stroked myself with the riding crop, and the light touch over the fabric built tingling sensations that peaked. I felt nearly on fire.
I backed up and bent all the way over, my hands resting on his thighs, glad again for my flexibility. I wasn’t sure how close my crotch was to his face, but the heat of his breath was a hint.
