Bound to the Bad Boy Read Online Free Page B

hot tongue and she began to unzip her
dress, trembling with nerves and desire.
     
    ****
     
    Matt’s cock pressed against the
zipper of his jeans. Though he had always hoped that Megan would return to
Cherub, he had feared that he would have a long wait. At night, when he had
tossed and turned in his bed, he had wondered if she would return a married
woman, maybe even with a couple of kids in tow. That had been the worst image.
The thought that she would already belong to another man was like pure acid in
his gut and he had yearned to call her, to seek her out before she made that
type of commitment, to beg her to return to Cherub and to him.
    But he had made a promise to
himself and to his club that he would let her go. You didn’t hold onto an old
lady if she wanted out. The life of a biker’s woman wasn’t easy and she had to
come willingly or not at all.
    Loyalty was everything.
    And then there was the other
aspect of their relationship. If Megan wanted him, she had to want him as her Dom
too. It was part of who he was. He couldn’t play vanilla in life or love. Not
full time anyway. His needs had always run deeper than the missionary position
and a fumble in front of Saturday night TV.
    He hooked his thumbs in his jean
pockets and waited.
    Megan was making her decision. And
it had to be her decision.
    Would she remove her dress?
    If she did, it meant that they
were stepping back into something far deeper and more passionate than anything
he had experienced since she’d left. He’d been with a few other women in the four
years since she’d dumped him, sure. He couldn’t walk around with a sack full
every day, pretending that he wasn’t a hot-blooded man… and besides, the chicks
just threw themselves at him and the guys. He’d have needed to be blind not to
be tempted by the tits and ass that offered itself to him on a daily basis.
When he’d had Megan in his life and in his bed, he had never given in to
temptation. He was loyal. Devoted. He kept his word. Megan
had been more than enough for him. But when she told him it was over, when she
ripped his heart and his life apart, he saw no point in keeping to himself and
he’d even scened with a few of the chicks. But none of them had connected with
him like she had. Not one of them had held a candle to her flaming red inferno.
    None of them were anything like
her. They didn’t fuck like her. They didn’t respond like her. They didn’t make
him laugh like she did. And they didn’t even smell right. He wanted her back. With every fiber of his being. Even just for one night. But
he hoped that it was for much, much longer.
    He roamed his eyes over her body
and held his breath as she finished unzipping the dress. It seemed a lifetime
since she’d begun and he trembled with the effort of keeping his hands to
himself. She held the material over her breasts for a moment and worried her
bottom lip in the way that he had always found so cute. She had that quality
not many women did. She was both hot and cute at the same time. Megan was the
type of woman a man would want to marry, but also the type that made him want
to bend her over a chair and tan her backside until he could see his handprints
all over her creamy white flesh. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and kiss
every inch of her body, yet he also wanted to plunge his cock into her mouth
and lace his fingers into her hair so she swallowed every inch of him before
drinking his hot cum.
    He almost cried out with the need
that pulsed through him. Please, Megan. Drop
the dress…
    She did. A flush spread from her
cheeks and across her beautiful chest like a river when the ice is broken.
    Megan was as beautiful as he
remembered.
    No. More beautiful.
    And she wasn’t wearing a bra. The
corset style top of the dress must have been holding her heavy breasts in
place. He gazed at them, large and full with their wide round areolae and erect,
ruby nubs. His heart pounded as he followed the spattering of freckles