Bad Boy Next Door

by Leigh, Mara

  “I don’t like it,” Keagan said.

  Shane stopped in front of our oldest brother’s chair and frowned. “Don’t shoot this down just because it’s my deal. Everything isn’t always about you. Other people have good ideas too, you know. We’ve got to do this. All the details are worked out. We’d be nuts to say no. It’ll be a snap.” He turned toward me.

  I shook my head.

  Keagan crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s nuts is agreeing to do this job without knowing the contents or lining up a buyer. Or knowing who fucking arranged all these supposed details.”

  “Trust me,” Shane said. “My connect will give me more deets. All of them. I promise. I just need to know you’re all in.”

  “Is it really that much money?” Dillon asked. “Like half a mil?”

  “Yes.” Shane bounced toward the fireplace, then back toward us. “I tell you, this is the best fucking job we’ve ever had. I’ve been working this connect since I got out of San Quentin, and he’s finally paying off.”

  “I need to know more.” Dillon leaned forward. “But sounds interesting so far.”

  I stared at Dillon. Was he shitting me? “You hard up for money or something?”

  He shrugged. “Just want to hear more, that’s all.”

  “Well, I’ve heard all I need.” I carried my empty plate and bottle to the sink. “I only came for the food. I can’t believe you guys are considering this.”

  “Come on, now,” Mac said. “Let’s not make a snap judgment.”

  “Shane,” Keagan stood. “Nick’s right. If there’s a half-million payoff, this is way too hot for the Downeys. Sorry. We pass.”

  Shane shot over to Keagan. “Too hot? Do you want to stay small potatoes forever? And who made you king over us anyway? What would Da say—”

  “Guess you’ll have plenty of time to ask him when you end up back inside.” Keagan went to the kitchen and ran the tap over the dishes at the bottom of the sink.

  At least Keagan was thinking clearly. He’d put the brakes on this scheme of Shane’s. Our eldest brother pretended to run the family business like a democracy, but he made the big calls.

  “Okay, okay.” Shane shook his head. “I get it. You want more details. I’ll get them. Soon. But before I can take this to the next stage, I need to know you’re all in.”

  Shane looked directly at me, as if there was any doubt who he was talking to.

  I stood up. “Have you heard a word I’ve said? I’m done with this shit.”

  “Come on, Nick,” Mac said. “Don’t say no until we find out more.”

  I strode toward the door. “No fucking way.”

  Twelve

  Nick

  Leaning against the outside door of the club, I watched the fog roll in. It was ninety minutes after closing and everyone was gone. Watching Jade work her second shift at Solid Gold had been both better and worse than seeing the first. Better because I got to soak in how freaking good she was—a natural—and worse because looking at her was painful.

  Painful and yet I couldn’t look away.

  My brothers’ teasing had only amplified my lust for this girl, planting even more pornographic ideas in my head and making me feel guiltier about our situation. I’d planned to come clean on the way to work tonight, with Melodie in the car as buffer, but Jade had peppered Melodie with questions, and I never got a chance to interrupt.

  Melodie had gone home early, so plan B had been to talk to Jade while we shared an Uber or Lyft, but some assholes had started a fight right at closing. One of the jerks—from Milwaukee of all places—called the police to press assault charges against another customer. As a result, I’d spent the hour and a half after closing dealing with the cops. Finally, the club was cleared and it was time to go home—alone. I’d tell Jade tomorrow.

  The clink of bottles surprised me as I walked into the bar. I wasn’t alone. Miguel, the head bartender, was still boxing up empties.

  “Hey, Miguel,” I said as I entered the main room. “Front door’s secure. Can you make sure the staff door closes up tight when you leave?”

  Jade’s head popped up from behind the bar.

  My balls tightened. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I work here?” She lifted a box of empties. “You got me the job. Remember?”

  “Let me take that.” I grabbed the box, impressed she’d been able to lift it so easily. She went back for another, so I bent for her to put a second box on top of the first, then she grabbed a third to carry herself.

  “Miguel asked me to finish closing up the bar. He had a family emergency.”

  “Pure bullshit.”

  She frowned. “Why would I lie?”

  “Not you, him.” I followed Jade toward the back storeroom. She was still in uniform and I wanted to lick the sliver of ass that showed below the back of those shorty shorts. So fucking sexy.

  She looked over her shoulder. “Why do you think Miguel was lying about his family emergency?”

  “He doesn’t have any family. It was more likely he had a chance-to-get-laid emergency.”

  We set the boxes in the storeroom along with the rest of the empties that would get set out in the alley for a Thursday-night pick up.

  “So you’re telling me I got played.” Her eyes narrowed. “And here I was starting to like Miguel.”

  “I can’t believe he left you here all alone.” I held open the storeroom door for her.

  “He didn’t leave me alone.” She grinned. “You’re here.”

  Yes, I was. I was here. With her. Alone. With her.

  I took a deep breath. I was pissed at Miguel for conning Jade into doing his job, but it gave me an opportunity to come clean. Hopefully she’d laugh, and we’d move past it. Past it to what I hoped could be a real thing between us. A pretty fucking great thing.

  Even though I’d known her for three days, I wanted this girl. Bad. I’d continued with the deception at least partially because it gave me an excuse to be around her.

  “Miguel is so dead to me.” She brushed past me, through the door. “Nothing worse than a liar.”

  My throat squeezed. “Miguel’s not such a bad guy,” I croaked out.

  “Lying scumbag.” Such fury on her face.

  How was I supposed to confess now? Um, speaking of liars…

  Fuck. I needed to man up and just do it.

  She grabbed the last box of bottles.

  “Let me,” I said.

  “Okay. Sure.”

  I took them from her. Rehearsing possible confession lines, I carried the last box of bottles to the storeroom. When I got back to the club floor, her hands were on the bar and she was bent over, stretching her back. Wearing her high heels, she bent one leg, then the other, her hips alternately thrusting and rounding out her taut ass cheeks. I sucked in a breath so hard it was audible.

  She looked under one arm and smiled. “You like that?”

  “Like what?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I backed up—directly into one of the tables, knocking off the chairs set on top for the night.

  The chairs clattered to the floor. “Shit.” I felt like a twelve-year-old kid, seeing a girl—as a girl—for the very first time.

  She laughed as I scrambled to pick up chairs. “Need some help with those?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’ve got it. Such a klutz.”

  “Don’t feel bad.” Her voice was playful. “You were overwhelmed by my astonishing sexiness.” She shimmied down to a crouch, stuck out her ass and, bent at the waist, pressed her legs straight.

  My dick straightened, too.

  Stretching one arm high in the air, she stuck out her hip, doing a fucking great imitation of the poses so often struck by the dancers. “Melodie says the dancers make a ton of money.”

  “The good ones do.” I shoved one of the chairs back onto the table.

  “I’m going to talk to Stan about dancing.”

  “What?”
I almost knocked the chairs off again.

  “I could use the money.”

  “No way.” The idea of her up on that stage with all those men watching her. It was bad enough having them gawk at her in that skimpy waitress outfit. The idea of Jade… naked in front of everyone… I felt ill.

  “Why not?” Swinging her arm to the side, she pranced around on her heels, butt back and tits out, looking as good as the experienced dancers. “I used to do gymnastics back when I was a kid. I’ve got a few moves.”

  “Gymnastics isn’t exotic dancing.”

  “No shit.” She stopped and put one hand on her hip. “But I was hoping you’d put in a good word for me. With Stan.” She stepped closer, pressing those juicy tits toward me.

  My cock thumped against my jeans, begging me to do something, to do whatever it took to get inside this woman—now! But I wasn’t going to cave to my cock’s dirty demands. Not until she knew the truth.

  Jade looked up to the stage, then turned to me with a devilish look in her eyes. She pulled down one of the chairs and patted its back. “Sit,” she said. “Be my test audience. Please? I’ve been dying to try this.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she shot over to the sound booth, and within a minute she’d not only figured out how to start up the music, she’d turned on the spotlight over the center pole.

  My erection silenced my brain—certainly trampled my conscience—and I sat down in the chair, tugging at the crotch of my jeans, hoping in vain to give my raging hard-on more room. Instead, the friction made matters worse.

  Jade went backstage as my brain tried to regain control of my body. Then she reappeared from the darkness, moving her hips and ass in time to the pulsating music. I almost came in my jeans.

  Stopping near the pole, she bent slightly and kicked back her ass, then stroked her hands up her thighs and over her torso. Cupping her tits, she tipped back her head, shaking out her dark hair, and it glistened under the lights.

  Even though she was a good fifteen feet away, I felt like her hair was teasing my cock. Then I was consumed with the idea of how that would actually feel—her silky waves stroking my dick.

  She grabbed the pole with one hand and pranced around it, smiling, then she turned her back to me and bent over. Our eyes made contact as she looked through her legs, and I felt exposed, like I’d been caught masturbating by one of the nuns down the road at St. Ignatius.

  I stood, my dick painfully hard as I walked over to the panel. I turned on the main stage lights. Jade shielded her eyes against the glare as I made my way back to my chair in what I hoped was a shadow. She wouldn’t be able to see me with the lights in her eyes.

  “How am I doing?” she asked, squinting.

  “Not bad,” I said, “for a beginner.”

  She gave me the finger.

  Turning to the pole, she stared at it for a few moments as if issuing a dare. Then grabbing it with one hand, she walked slowly around it, her ass and legs perfection. Seeing her fingers drag around the brass, all I could imagine was how they’d feel circling my pole. Unable to control myself, I rubbed my dick through my jeans.

  On her next time around, she leaned out. Holding with one hand, she let herself swing around the pole.

  She landed on her ass.

  Frowning, she got up. “Let me try that again.”

  I had an impulse to tell her to plant her leg closer to the pole the next time, but caught myself. I knew I should discourage this wrongheaded idea, but I desperately wanted to see her dance.

  She tried the one-handed swing again, and this time it was flawless. She ended up in a deep lunge beside the pole, one leg out to the side, her sculpted, stretchy muscles the sexiest thing I had ever seen.

  Swinging her outstretched leg around, she pulled herself upright, and after circling the pole a few more times, she jumped up, hooked one knee, and leaned back. Had she really never done this before?

  Her hands slipped and she dropped to her ass.

  Laughing at herself, she shrugged at me, even though I was pretty sure she couldn’t see me shadowed in darkness. She tried the maneuver again, mastering it on her third try.

  I watched with equal parts awe and lust as she mimicked one of Melodie’s routines. Melodie was more practiced, more skilled, but I liked Jade’s show better. Her body wasn’t as lush or curvy as most of the dancers’. In contrast, she was strong—plus her tits were real.

  But it was more than just that. Sensuality flowed from Jade. She was a fountain of sex.

  About to come in my jeans, I sat on my hands, knowing if I let them anywhere near my dick, even touched the denim, I’d fall apart.

  Jade’s body swayed and stretched, her movements not practiced or consistent, but to me a million times hotter than the other girls’. Her skin glowed as her limbs stretched and contracted like liquid energy, soft and strong at the same time.

  What I wouldn’t give to feel her lithe body pulsing under my touch. I’d offer a million for a chance to move my cock inside of her pussy—or even my fingers.

  I’d kill to watch her come.

  Bending forward, she struck a pose, ass toward me and legs apart. The strip of silver fabric between her legs shimmered, barely concealing the treasures it was designed to shield.

  “Fuuuck.”

  She looked back at me over her shoulder and grinned. I realized I’d cursed aloud.

  “I guess that means I did okay?” Straightening, she stepped down off the stage and walked toward me.

  I lost sight of her for a second as she passed into the shadow, reappearing not five feet ahead of me. I pulled my hands out from below my thighs, and the slight movement made me groan. I’d never been so uncomfortably hard.

  Her eyes were focused on my package like she knew it, too.

  There was no disguising the state of my discomfort, so I didn’t bother. Her gaze lifted to meet mine, creating an incendiary force pulsing between us, and I swear if someone else was watching they’d see fire shooting between our eyes.

  “Give me your jacket,” she commanded, her voice husky.

  I shrugged out of it quickly, handing it to her without giving a thought to why she might want it—willing, eager, desperate to do anything she asked.

  She dropped it to the floor and lowered herself to her knees.

  Her hands touched my thighs, and I sucked in air, unable to find enough oxygen to feed the furnace she’d lit. I couldn’t think, could barely breathe, and I certainly couldn’t find the will to stop her as she unzipped my jeans.

  * * *

  Jade

  Dancing on that stage for Nick had been hot as fuck. Sure, I’d fallen on my ass a few times and probably looked clumsy, but from the expression on his face, not to mention the bulge in his jeans, I hadn’t been all bad.

  I knelt on his jacket and ran my hands slowly up and down his thighs, loving the sound of his breath—heavy and labored—and the heat in his eyes as he stared at my tits.

  He’d wanted me last night, and he wanted me now. That was clear. Who knew why he’d stopped me last night. Maybe he remembered the no-sex rule I’d stipulated when I took over the brownies.

  Right now, like last night, I was willing to bend my own rule. Overpowered by my driving need to touch him, taste him, make him come.

  I wanted Nick to fuck me, too, but I sensed once he’d been inside me, he’d have the power to crush me—crush my whole life. I would not give him that. A blow job was better. One with me in control. The logic might not be totally sound, but it was the only compromise I could make with my lust.

  I slid my hands higher on his thighs, my fingers brushing near his bulge but not touching. Although I hadn’t yet made finger-to-dick contact, the tension in his body multiplied. I could feel it in his muscled legs, see it in his expression, hear it in his labored breathing.

  I slowly eased open his fly.

  Groaning, he reached down and grabbed my forearms, but I wasn’t going to let him stop me again. My wrists captive in his grasp, I bru
shed my fingers against his cock.

  His head dropped back, and his hands slid off me as if they’d thrown in the towel.

  Through his jeans, I ran my fingers over the hard length of him, and the grumbling moan erupting from his chest drenched the crotch of my uniform.

  Smart or not, I had a serious lady boner for this man.

  Carefully, I pulled down his zipper, licking my lips when I saw he wasn’t wearing underwear. But instead of going straight for the main event, I used the fabric of his jeans to create friction, rubbing him through the denim, squeezing, then gently stroking.

  His hips bucked and he moaned. “Wait…” His voice broke. “Fuck!” His cock pulsed in my fingers, like it was fighting to rip through the jeans.

  I pushed the fabric aside and his cock burst out, bouncing in front of me, so thick and hard, angrily red and wet at the tip. Grabbing the shaft with both hands, I licked his head—circling, sucking, tonguing all the grooves and ridges and veins, all the soft and hard places, relishing the salty manliness of Nick.

  His hips bucked, and he gripped the legs of the chair as if trying to hold himself down. Wanting more, wanting to drive him wild, I bent to take his entire length into my mouth.

  Expecting his dick to bend, I misjudged both his hardness and length, and his cock struck the back of my throat. I gagged.

  He started to push me away, but I adjusted the depth and closed my lips around him, rubbing the underside of the head with my tongue as I sucked. He gripped the legs of the chair.

  I had him right where I wanted. I’d claimed his cock, his entire body, as he surrendered to my tongue and fingers and lips.

  In a lust-driven frenzy, I went to work, barely aware of my actions as I bobbed and licked, sucked and stroked, teased and tugged. Fuck. I was kidding myself if I thought I could keep all this under control. How could I control him if I couldn’t even control myself?

  Given his strength and weight advantage, he could easily reverse the balance of power. In a flash, he could grab my head and fuck my mouth and throat so hard I’d choke. Or he could pin me down and pound into whatever hole he wanted.