Page 50 of Perfect Boy

I breathe out a laugh, trying to cover my wince. “Calm down, big guy. I’m fine.” I pat my leg. “Just my sciatic nerve—that’s all. It’s bothered me forever; it comes and goes.”

Unconvinced, he looks me up and down before scooping me up.

“What in the world are you doing?” I scowl. “Put me down.”

“Where’re your things? I’ll take you home. We can come get your car tomorrow.”

“In there.” I point to the vacant changing room. “I don’t have my car. It wouldn’t start.”

Walking into the room, he kicks the door shut, locking it behind him. “So, what? Were you going to walk home?” He glares at me. “Please say you weren’t going to fucking walk home this late at night, alone, Ryann.” His eyes darken. “Because that would make me really, really mad.”

“No,” I deadpan. “I was going to hitchhike.” When his face turns as red as a tomato, I laugh, poking his stomach. “I’m kidding. One of the girls told me if I needed a ride, she’d give me one. Calm your pickle.”

Speaking of pickles, I can feel his dick pressing into the side of my hip. As if realizing it, he shifts around.

“Ooh, did Watson Gentry get a chub from watching the dancers tonight?” I tease him as he sets me down on the plush chaise lounge.

The sweet look that usually rests on his face is gone. Leaving behind that primal, crazy look, like the one I saw in the supply closet that day.

“I only saw one of them, Tiny Dancer. And, yeah, that one made my dick really fucking hard.”

“Tina’s boobs were only covered with pasties. And those things are as perky as they are huge. So, that must be who put you in this”—I gaze down at the bulge in his jeans—“position.”

“If by position you mean what made my cock hard as stone…it was my wife.” His gaze sweeps over me. “Just being honest.”

“Yeah … right,” I squeak.

He kneels down before me, and his hand splays against where the pain was shooting from just moments ago. Yet, now, it’s slowly fading away.

“Ryann, I don’t give a fuck if Tina’s tits were in my face and she was begging for me to take my cock out and fuck them. I’d still be looking at you.” He gently massages my leg. “How the fuck would I not look at you?” He growls the words. “But I hate the fact that every motherfucker out there was looking at you too. Looking at my wife.”

I suck in a breath. Breathless from his touch. My brain feels fuzzy as his hand works against my skin.

“Don’t,” I whisper. “We can’t do that now.” I clear my throat. “We shouldn’t do it at all. It will just complicate things. More than they already are.”

“Do what?” he rasps, his pupils growing bigger. “You mean, I can’t bury my cock between your legs? Or feel you dripping down my thighs?” His fingertips glide higher. “Why not, Tiny Dancer? I can feel the heat radiating from between your legs.”

“Because…it will make things weird between us. You know, when it comes time to…end this.”

My words seem to hurt him, but he regains his smooth composure right away.

“You know, baby, until we’re divorced, the only cock you’re allowed to fuck is mine. The only tongue allowed to lick your pussy is mine. And the only dick you’re allowed to suck is mine.”

My body turns to jelly, and he continues to massage my leg.

“Does this hurt?” he mutters, and I shake my head, which makes him widen his eyes. “Don’t lie.”

My body trembles, and everything inside of me aches. “It hurts a little. But it also feels kind of nice.”

“I’d love to fuck you right now, Ryann. And my cock is begging to be inside of you, letting you soak me because I know you’re so fucking wet.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. “But you’re hurting. And we can’t have that. You have your performance coming up.”

Standing, he looks around the room until his eyes land on the lockers. “Which one is yours?”

“Number thirteen,” I say and start to stand.

“Stay there. I’ll get your clothes,” his deep voice commands me, and for whatever reason, I listen.

Opening the unlocked locker, he grabs my bag and brings it to me. One at a time, he pulls my high heels off, setting them to the side. His eyes stay on mine, his pupils huge. I’m a prisoner of his touch, unable to move, talk, or even think.

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