One Night of Trouble

“Jesus,” he mumbled. “I’m totally digging this payback, baby.”

“You won’t for much longer. I haven’t even gotten started yet.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m going to torture you, baby.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t seem too concerned by the threat.

“Oh yeah. Like I said, I don’t like being dicked around.”

He blinked innocently. “Really? I happen to enjoy it.” His lower body rose off the mattress, his thick erection bumping her hand. “Dick me around, Brett. Please.”

She swallowed a laugh. God, this man never failed to surprise her. All the memories she had of him from high school, all the assumptions…flawed, each and every one of them.

The AJ Walsh she’d admired walking the halls of Hawthorne High had been a fantasy. The man she’d spent the weekend with? He was real. He was playful and sexy and far more dominant than she’d ever expected. In fact, if Troy or any of her former boyfriends had bossed her around the way AJ did, she probably would’ve slapped them upside the head. But for some reason, she totally got off on AJ’s bossiness.

Of course, being the one in charge also had its benefits.

As she undid his pants and freed his erection, a sense of power she’d never experienced surged through her veins. With his hands secured to the bedposts, he was completely at her mercy. She could do whatever she wanted to him, and he was helpless to stop her.

She stroked his shaft, enjoying the weight of him, the smooth, hot flesh beneath her fingers. He was long and thick, hard as a rock, and soft as velvet. She could see his pulse throbbing in his cock as she moved her fist in long, leisurely strokes.

“Best payback ever.” AJ moaned as he thrust into her hand.

“You still think so, huh? Then I guess you’ve forgotten about all those times you got me close today and then took your hand away.” She flashed a devious look. “But I sure haven’t. PS—I’m going to do the same thing to you now.” She nodded at his immobile hands. “And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Smirking, Brett leaned over and swiped her tongue along the tiny slit on his engorged head, licking the drop of salty moisture pooled there.

He jerked on the bed, wrists smacking the posts as he tried to move his arms.

“Don’t waste your time,” she said helpfully. “Fun fact—my dad and brothers are avid fishermen. Every summer we take our boat out to the Finger Lakes for a two-week fishing trip. Which means I know my knots.” She beamed at him. “I tie a mean bowline, if I do say so myself.”

AJ made an unintelligible sound. His features contorted in agony when she gave his erection a teasing squeeze. Then she licked him again, a slow circle around the crown of his cock, and a strangled groan tore out of his throat. She peered up and encountered the sexiest sight on earth. AJ in full-blown arousal mode—lips parted, cheeks flushed, strong throat working as he swallowed repeatedly.

Her sexual tormenting continued in the form of featherlight licks up and down his shaft, each delicate flick of the tongue summoning another anguished noise from him. When she decided to take pity on him by sucking on his tip, he shuddered as if she’d dumped a bucket of cold water over his head.

Brett lifted her head with a mocking chuckle. “You doing okay?”

“What do you think?” he croaked.

“I think I’m going to let you come.” She firmly wrapped her hand and lips around him, pumping hard as she tightened the suction of her mouth.

Five strokes, six, seven…and just as she felt his body tense up, she released him with a pop and leaned back on her elbows.

“Actually, no,” she said cheerfully. “I changed my mind.”

The expletive he let out was so loud and tortured she choked on a giggle.

“Oh, I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbled.

“No, you don’t.” She cupped his sac and fondled it lightly. His cock had gone impossibly thicker, resting on his navel and pleading for attention.

Oh yeah. This was power, all right. She had AJ Walsh right where she wanted him, and he wouldn’t get an ounce of relief until she decided to give it to him. How many orgasms had he deprived her of already? She quickly did the math—one last night, at least three today.

She had a lot of work to do.

For the next thirty minutes, she showed him exactly what she thought of his blasted anticipation. Her soft licks and teasing pumps, intermixed with greedy sucking and the hard squeezing of his balls, turned the man on her bed into a cursing, trembling mess of need. And all the while, Brett gauged his responses with delight, until she knew his body better than she knew her own.

When his six-pack tightened and his balls drew up, it meant he was close.

When he wheezed as if all the oxygen had drained from his lungs, it meant he needed more.

When his bound hands thrashed against the bedposts, it meant he was losing his frickin’ mind.