Blake pumps a dry laugh into the mike as the music starts up again, hard and caustic—the electric chair for white boys on the dance floor. If there’s a “Dudes Don’t Dance” episode, I’ll be on it. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone records the killer moves I’m about to implement, and it goes viral by morning. I’m okay with putting aside my ego if it means getting Marley to rethink her stance on experimenting with someone for the sake of her article.
The music stops just as I’m about to bust a back-breaking move. Blake looks down at us with his hand up to the band.
“I’m going to switch things up for a while,” he pants into the mike. “Grab your lady, girls grab your man—get ready to get your hip grinding in for the night.”
I shoot him a look as efficient as giving him the finger, and he nods with a devious smile.
“Nice.” Marley relaxes her arms around my shoulders before vacuuming her hips to my thighs. My dick tucks neatly into her belly no thanks to my height advantage. “I’ve been waiting to hold you. Finally!” She bites down on her lip, and, for a second, it feels as if she’s teasing.
“You do feel nice.” I lean in and take a hard sniff of her hair. Lavender. Sevilla had the entire house smelling like a field of lavender when she cleaned. Those were my favorite days, my favorite memories of spending my “Dad” weekends with Sevilla. “You smell pretty damn good, too.” A crude groan escapes me, and I cringe. I’m only propagating what I was hoping to stop. Just beyond her shoulder, I spot Monica threading her way back to our table. I spin Marley deeper into the crowd without giving it a second thought. I’d rather dance, sniff, and taste Marley all night than deflect any more of Monica’s advances.
“I think you smell nice, too.” Her hand smooths over my chest. Marley’s eyes sparkle in this dim light like a pair of glittering sapphires. “So two weeks, huh? What inspired you to put the boys on ice for so long?”
“I wanted to wait a month,” I remind her. “We met at two weeks.” One month left ample room for negotiation. Two weeks leaves just enough time for anticipation. Quite frankly, I’m a bit offended she didn’t put up a bigger fight. I give a private smile. “Besides, you should get to know the person who’s going to be barking out orders in bed.”
Her mouth falls open, and she stops moving all together. That’s it. She’s done. I brace myself for a slap to the face, but her lips twist in a declaration of approval.
“So you’re that kind of boy, huh? I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be dominated in the bedroom.” She bites down on her lower lip so hard, I’m afraid she’ll draw blood.
“Uncomfortable. It’s going to feel uncomfortable.” Ironic. The harder I try to shake her, the more I seem to reel her in. I’m just too damn charming for my own good. “So you like being tied up?”
She pushes in tight with her perfect body conforming to mine, and I groan as her tits crush against me.
“I don’t know.” The words bubble out in a giggle. Marley is adorable, and, if she tries to push her way into my body any harder, my dick will tell her exactly how adorable I think she is.
“Mmm…” I shake my head. “I like the restraints set pretty tight—no wiggle room—for you that is.”
Her eyes widen at the prospect. “You have a four poster bed?”
“Bought for that very purpose.” Not really. It was a garage sale find, and the posts are more of a nighttime hazard, but they’ve been known to hold a few women steady.
I sweep a loose strand of hair from her forehead and inspect her in this dim light. Marley is a goddess. She can command anyone with a pair of testicles to bow before her, and they would. They couldn’t help it. She’s that beautiful. But, apparently, the thought of being tied spread eagle does nothing to dissuade her from our little agreement.
I lean in and whisper, “You look like a naughty one to me. I bet you like a good spanking.” Maybe the thought of corporal punishment will make her squirm.
“You’re into punishing women?” She practically mouths the words ecstatic.
“No.” Geez. Shit. This is going in the wrong direction. “Hell, no. Well, maybe—I’m talking about a good old fashioned whipping.” That didn’t sound any better, but it doesn’t stop my grin from spreading wider than it needs to. Maybe if she thinks I’m a freak, she’ll gallop her stilettos right out of here. “I don’t consider it a crime that I know my way around a riding crop. It just so happens that the recipient is usually in need of a very thorough punishment.” I cinch my lips a moment. Marley is suddenly starry-eyed at the prospect of a good flogging, and a perverted part of me is glad she’s on board. “Now, tell me”—I growl into her ear before blowing a hot breath—“have you been good or bad?”