“You sure you don’t want a lift home?” Melodie stood by the dressing room entrance, jingling car keys that hung from a toy troll that sported a shock of neon-blue hair.

“No, I’m good.” I smiled at the woman who’d quickly become a friend. “I’m going to try on a few outfits. Make sure I have everything set for my big debut Sunday night.” Stan had finally given me my first set on stage.

“We can do that tomorrow, after we run through your routines one last time.” Melodie yawned, covering her mouth with her delicately long fingers. “I am so beat.”

I picked up a red sequined G-string, one of several things Melodie and I had scrounged from items left by previous dancers. “I want to take some options home to wash.”

“Promise you aren’t taking the bus.”

I stared at the G-string like I wasn’t sure how it worked. “Nick said I could grab a ride with him.”

Melodie leaned into the room, her eyes wide. “I thought you two weren’t talking.”

“He apologized.”

“Again?” Melodie grinned. “Even after what you did to his chocolates?”

“I feel kind of bad about that.” I set the G-string on the back of a cheap folding chair. “But don’t tell Nick.”

“Your secret’s safe, sister.” Melodie winked. “But damn. What a waste of a good box of See’s.”

“Tell me about it.” I had actually eaten a few before destroying the rest. I mean, a girl needed chocolate. See’s headquarters was in South San Francisco, and on good days you could smell chocolate in the air in the Shady Oaks courtyard.

Holding onto the doorframe with both hands, Melodie stretched her shoulders and chest. “You still not going to tell me what he did to get you so mad?”

I shook my head. As much as I hated a liar, the more I thought about Nick’s deception, the more petty I felt, and the more my anger seemed overblown. Tired and suspicious, I’d been rude the day we’d met, and he was right—he had made a few attempts to set me straight that I’d brushed off.

I’d been so sure he was screwing with me, and while I was right, I was wrong about how.

“Okay.” Melodie came out of her stretch. “Guess I’m off then. See you tomorrow.”

“Yup. Thanks again for all your help.”

“No sweat!” She waved and her keys jingled, like the sound was making her troll dance.

“Night, Nick,” Melodie said from the hall.

He walked past the dressing room door and followed her to the alley exit. Nick would make sure Melodie got safely to her car, which might just give me enough time to surprise him.

I kicked the door closed, then smiled as I quickly dressed in the outfit I’d chosen.

The black vinyl shorts were super low-cut and struck a hard line across my hips and belly. Under my baggy sweatshirt, I was already wearing a matching faux-leather bra, its cups covered in spiky studs.

I tossed off the sweatshirt and plopped down onto the folding chair, wincing as the cold metal hit my nearly bare ass. Then I tugged on a pair of thigh-high black boots with platforms and stiletto heels.

“Drive safe!” Nick yelled to Melodie from the back door.

I reached into my bag, grabbed the riding crop and handcuffs I’d found buried in a box stashed above the metal lockers, then opened the door and stepped into the hall.

Nick was still watching Melodie’s car leave the alley. Perfect timing.

I struck a pose, legs wide, chest out, as Nick double-checked the back door’s lock.

He turned.

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.”

Obediently, he gripped the back of his seat.

“Legs together.”

He dragged his boots along the floor, bringing his thighs together, the muscles bulging so much I wondered if the denim would give.

I wanted, more than air, to feel those hard muscles between my legs, to even ride one of his thighs as he bucked it against me. The way I felt now, I might come the instant his thigh muscles hit my mound.

I straddled both legs, and even with the help of my six-inch heels, my legs barely reached across his.

His hands landed on my hips, warm and strong against my skin, and his fingers pressed lightly against the thin fabric of my shorts as his thumbs grazed the front.

With every ounce of willpower I could muster, I said, “Hands down. On the chair. Do I need to use these?” I dangled the handcuffs.

With a grin, he dropped his hands back, and I set the cuffs and crop on the table. Resting my hands on his shoulders, I pressed my chest forward, rubbing the spiky studs up and down his hard chest, hoping they’d hurt him—just a little. Just enough to make sure he’d remember who was in charge.

I wasn’t sure whether or not the spikes were making any impact on his chest, but the backs of them tormented my hardened nipples, and his legs were like long, hard rocks between my inner thighs. I moaned. So did he.

Shifting my position to rest my forehead on his shoulder, I tipped my pelvis to brush my crotch against his bulge. Even with that light pressure, I nearly came. But it was too soon for that. Way too soon.

A climax now would be violent but short. A release, sure, but nothing compared to what I knew would come if I let it build.

My heel slipped on the concrete floor, and my body slid forward, slamming into his. He groaned as our crotches crashed, and the pleasure pushed the air from my lungs. I lifted my head and saw into his eyes.

Shit, too real. I couldn’t get caught in that emotional trap again.

I scrambled off his lap, not even caring how awkwardly I moved, and grabbed the riding crop.

“On stage,” I said. “Time for the show.”

“The show?” Adjusting himself, he stood. His erection pressed against his jeans was about the sexiest thing I had ever seen.

“Strip for me.” I pointed the crop toward the stage. “Dance. I want to be entertained.”

He looked at me with heat in his eyes, then sauntered toward the stage while I sat, spreading my legs like he’d done, planting my stiletto-clad feet on the floor.

“What?” I asked. “No lights? No music?”

Grinning, he headed to the control booth and soon one of Diamond’s signature songs pounded through the club. He turned down the volume as the lights blared to illuminate the empty stage. Slowly, he walked back to the stage.

I could tell he was stalling but did nothing to change that. The mere sight of his strong body, the anticipation of seeing him naked, made me so wet and ready it was hard not to squirm.

He jumped onto the stage, landing softly for such a big guy, then walked to the center and turned to face me, shielding his eyes from the lights. “What do you want me to do?”

“Come on. You’ve seen thousands of sets.”

He folded his arms over his broad chest, and I loved how they barely reached across.

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have the same equipment as the dancers who work here.”

No, he did not. Nick was the most masculine man I had ever known, ever seen. About as far away from the club’s dancers as possible.

I flicked my hand. “Do male stripper stuff.”

“And what’s that?”

“You know.”

“How the fuck would I know what a male stripper does?”

“Like Magic 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.

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 is my rodeo.”

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.

His tongue grazed the fabric of my shorts, and I gasped. He continued to flick his tongue over my shorts, and the caress, although still light, was so much better than the riding crop’s, because I didn’t know when to expect it.

Pressing back farther, I was rewarded by some serious lapping along the edges of the shorts’ fabric. If they hadn’t been wet before…

Straightening for a moment, l wriggled them down and stepped out of one side, moving quickly back into the same position, this time with no fabric between my skin and his tongue.

He stroked through my wet folds, teased my opening, and his rumbling moan vibrated up from his chest, radiating through my body.

Just as I was getting used to the teasing, his tongue speared me, plunging, licking, and stabbing, and the shallow penetration of the nerve-laden area made me cry out.

I fell back, worried for a second I might smother him, but his relentless tongue-fucking continued. I reached for my clit. I was so close, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for this part to end. I pulled away and turned.

His gaze brushed over my body, from crotch to face, and our eyes locked. The need I saw there fueled my fire.

Every muscle in his body was taut, his erection reaching toward me, and I loved that I had the power to decide when his pleasure would arrive. As badly as I wanted to touch his hard rod, to ride it, I wouldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, I drew the crop up the inside of my leg and stroked my pussy, soaking the leather, loving the contrast between the cool hardness of the leather and the soft warmth of his tongue. I preferred his tongue, his lips, his teeth.

As if wanting the same thing, his head strained forward and he licked his lips.

I stepped closer, and holding onto the pole, I wrapped one leg over his shoulder. With no use of his hands, he groped with his tongue and lips, fighting to reach his target. I reached down to spread my lips and his mouth locked onto my clit, sucking me forward, the pleasure so powerful my orgasm exploded in an instant, shooting parts of me flying around the room.

I writhed against his face, holding the pole for dear life as the burning pleasure continued its clenching waves until I was no longer sure where I was, who I was, or what was holding me up.

I cried out, throwing my head back and closing my eyes against the bright stage lights. My hips thrust like I was humping the pole, humping his face, and the only thing keeping my legs from buckling was my desire to keep his lips latched onto my sex.

The orgasm continued in wild waves, longer and harder than I thought was possible, and just as it slowed, he flicked my clit with his tongue and it started again, strong aftershocks tugging my insides.

He teased out my aftershocks, flicking and sucking, dipping through my vulva, drinking me in like no man had ever done.

As the aftershocks subsided, his tongue slowly stroked me, avoiding my sensitive clit, and as spent as I was, I felt the unmistakable build of my body wanting more.

I slipped my leg off his shoulder and slid down to straddle his legs just behind his raging cock. His face was slick with sweat and with me, and he leaned forward to capture my mouth, his lips and tongue ravaging my face the same way they’d taken my pussy.

Tasting myself on his lips made me feel both dirty and desirable—and made me want to taste him.

I pushed back and bent to take the head of his cock into my mouth. His hips bucked, pushing him in farther. Gripping his shaft, I slowly lapped up the sides of him, stroking up and down, taking in his salty heat, teasing him, loving how each stroke made his chest grumble, his hips heave.

My tongue slowly circled his head, then I sucked it in, hard.

Swearing, he bucked, so I repeated the pattern again and again, varying it slightly each time, loving how powerful I felt controlling this body, twice the size of my own, with only my hands and my mouth.

I wanted him inside me, I wanted to fuck him for hours, but this game of stroking and licking and sucking overrode my ability to make decisions. He seemed to yield to it too, thrusting up as I stroked or sucked him between my lips.

His stomach tightened. He cursed as I felt him come, and I pulled my mouth off, directing the eruption to land on both of our bodies, covering my tits and his chest. I licked some off and then kissed him again, his mouth still tasting of my juices, our flavors combining. So fucking dirty and hot.

And as I kissed him, rubbing my spiked bra against his chest, I realized his cock was still semi-hard beneath me and growing harder, pressing against my inner thigh. Positioning him between my folds, I stroked the hard rod along the length of my sex, ramming it against my clit at the top of each stroke. He got harder with each pass, so ready to impale me.

Fuck. I needed a condom. I pulled back.

“What?” He panted, barely able to speak.

“Condom. I’ve got some in my purse.”

“Jeans.” He tipped his head, and I scrambled on all fours across the stage to retrieve one, so grateful I didn’t need to go all the way to the dressing room. I’d meant to stash one in the bra, but forgot.

“Fuck, baby, you look so juicy.” His voice was gruff, deep.

Realizing I was on all fours, I looked back over my shoulder and stretched like a cat, spreading my legs wide for him, opening myself up to his heated gaze.

His desire penetrated my body, and for a moment it was almost enough. Reaching back between my legs, l let my fingers trail through my lips, parting myself for him, then I pushed my fingers inside. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been this aroused, this wet, this ready.

“You’re so hard again,” I said over my shoulder. “That was fast.”

“Only for you, Jade. Only for you. My dick was made to fuck your pussy. Not to mention that ass. Fuck. Just look at your sweet asshole.”

“What? This?” I circled the opening, dampening it with my wet fingers. One of my exes had pressed his finger inside me one time and I’d liked it okay, but the idea of something as big as a cock, especially Nick’s cock… I pressed the tip of my finger against the opening, trying to imagine how it might feel.

“Fuck, baby.” Nick yelled. “Get on my dick before I break these cuffs and do it myself.”

I was supposed to be calling the shots, but what did that matter at this point? I crawled over, tore the condom wrapper and, looking into his heated eyes, I sheathed him.

Air hissed out of his clenched teeth as my fingers drew down the latex.

Straddling him, hands on his shoulders, I slowly lowered myself, gasping as his girth took my opening by surprise, pushing me open, stretching and filling every open space inside of me.

I drew up until he was nearly out, then let gravity help as I lowered myself again, all the way down this time, until the backs of my thighs hit his body, until he was so deep we couldn’t go any farther, so deep I felt like our bodies were permanently joined.

I rested there, loving how he filled me. Then I rocked, squeezing my inner muscles in time with my hips’ motions, wanting to keep him buried inside me forever.

But other desires took over. The desire that said I wanted him driving like a piston, bucking beneath me like an animal.

Grabbing the pole behind him for leverage, I started to pump, pulling myself up and letting my body drop hard, wanting to drive him straight through me, wanting the friction between our skins to catch fire.

“Hey, baby. Those spikes.”

The bra was pushing against his face so I pulled it off, freeing my tits. He caught one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking as I rode his dick. As I bounced, his mouth stayed latched, tugging my tit up and down as if he were trying to pull blood from my clit to my nipple.

So much of my blood seemed concentrated in that line of nerves, it didn’t seem possible that there’d be enough left to keep me alive.

I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything except the nerves exploding from my nipple to my cunt, couldn’t care about anything except the pounding thrust of his cock deep inside me.

Barely able to register it had happened, I realized his hands were gripping my ass, helping me bounce. “Hey!” I breathed as I absorbed another thrust. “The handcuffs.”

He flipped me onto my back on the stage, his powerful body above mine. “These?” He showed me the broken chain dangling from his wrist. Even though the cuffs were stage props, the chain had been strong, and his strength drove a ripple of lust to pulse my pussy around him.

He pulled himself up to get leverage and then his powerful hips thrust, pinning me to the stage. The change in angle woke new places inside me, making it feel like we’d just started, like I could do this forever.

His hands scooped the back of my thighs, moving my ankles up to his shoulders, and I gasped at the even deeper penetration, completely surrendering to the fabulous things his body was doing to mine.

Letting my legs drop, he rolled onto his back, pulling me on top. I started to get up onto my knees to ride him, but he held me still. “No, baby. Let’s just lie here a minute.”

I lay on his chest, his dick halfway inside me as we both panted, breathing hard. The air in the club cooled our sweat-soaked bodies as his hands explored my back, my ass, stroking me in such a delicious way.

Our lips and tongues joined in a slow, tender exploration, lifting me to a new place, one where I felt like I was floating in warm water, drifting in zero gravity, lost in bliss.

Turning me to my side, he tugged my leg up and over his hip and thrust deep inside me again. I gasped, and he pushed even deeper.

As he held me in the vise grip of his arm, one of his fingers slid down my ass to meet his cock from behind. He pumped slowly, rubbing me, rubbing himself, his hand joining with his cock as he fucked me.

His dampened finger circled my asshole.

Heat built in an instant. My hips jerked, my cunt tightening around his cock as he continued the tease.

“You want that?” His voice rumbled through me. “Just tell me what you want, Jade.” He pushed his finger harder.

“I, ah!” He circled again, then teased my perineum. My hips bucked in response, completely outside my control.

He pressed his lips against my forehead, then looked into my eyes. “My finger’s big and your asshole’s tight. If we’re going to do this, we should have lube.” His finger flicked over my asshole, then pressed lightly. “Some other time.”

“Yeah. Later.” My words came out on long low breaths.

He released his death grip on my pelvis and started to thrust slowly inside me again. Lying face-to-face on our sides, his huge body was almost curled around mine as he pushed in and out, and I felt a shift, a seismic change coming from deep inside me.

I looked up, directly into his eyes.

“Hey there,” he said deeply as his hips pumped his cock, as my body responded, undulating at just the right rhythm to match his, our bodies curled into each other like we’d been designed to be joined this way, like all the dirty fucking that had led us to this point had been preparation for these tender delights.

“You’re amazing, you know.” One of his hands cupped the back of my head, the other cradled my ass. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Lucky?” I asked, then his cock stroked my G-spot just right and I gasped.

“Lucky to have you move in next door.”

“I’m the one who’s lucky,” I said before thinking. But the thing was, I meant it.

I didn’t want to mean it. I didn’t want to expose myself like that, not to Nick, not to anyone, especially not to a liar, but at that moment, I forgot. With his dick deep inside me, our sex act seemed the perfect manifestation of Nick—powerful yet tender, hard yet gentle—and I forgot why I’d been so hell-bent on avoiding a relationship, not letting Nick in.

And even if I hadn’t forgotten, it was too late. In more ways than one, Nick was already buried so hard inside me.