Mr. Big Ego (Dirty South Book 3)

by Kat Addams

  “With me. Together. Us. No swapping, but I’m assuming couples can go there to perform.”

  “You mean, you want to fuck in front of other people?” My mouth fell open.

  “Yes. That would be the ultimate performance, wouldn’t it? No sharing. But you and I, it would be fun. Much more fun than getting drunk in the limo and flailing my dick around. This time, we can both put on a show.”

  I swallowed hard. Going back to that sex club would be tough. I had so many bad memories from there, including that night I had caught my husband cheating with my best friend. That was the club I had mentioned to Victor when I told him about my ex. I’d only left out the sex club part.

  “You really want to do this? I haven’t been back there in a while. Lots of bad memories.”

  “I want to try everything with you, except for threesomes or foursomes or anyone other than you and me. Like I said, I don’t share. If you have bad memories, I don’t want to push anything on you. But I’m up for turning those bad memories into good memories if you are.” He stood up and walked around his desk. “I don’t share, I won’t share, and I’m not interested in anyone else—just you. You’re mine. If that is okay with you, of course.” He leaned down, tipped my chin up, and kissed me hard.

  “All yours. Stupidly, all yours. But first, fix the situation with Sara. I won’t play nice if she doesn’t back off, and I won’t stick around if she is constantly trying to run me out of here. So, fix it. One of us is going.”

  “Done. Your wish is my command. I’ll figure it out. Let’s get this circus on the road, and I’ll start a search for a new employee after that—unless I can get her to back off. Maybe she only needs a distraction.”

  “She’s madly in love with you. She won’t back off until I’m dead or I’ve moved to the other side of the world.”

  “You’re so damn sexy when you’re feisty. Do you know that?” He brushed my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

  This was it—the opportunity I’d been waiting for with the whole boss-and-secretary kink I wanted to fool around with today. I was already halfway there with my face eye-level with his crotch as he stood before me. I could see the outline of his hard cock in his pants. Even the ridge of the tip was visible. I bit my lip. As bad as I wanted Victor, my mind was elsewhere—specifically on damage control and that bitch, Sara.

  “I’ll give the club a call. They have a screening process, but since they know me, I’ll get you in. It’s only open on Fridays and Saturdays.” I averted my eyes from his cock that looked as if it grew thicker by the second.

  “Okay. Want to show me any moves that I can practice? Want to tease me a bit?”

  “I did want to tease you a bit. I mean, look at me. I specifically dressed up today to crawl under your desk and give you a blow job. I’ve always wanted to do that. It would be even better if you were on a conference call. That might be a kink of mine. But Sara has me reeling, and I’m just not in the mood anymore. I’ve got a lot of work to do too. Your party is killing me.”

  “Damn, Sara! Cockblocker! You really wanted to suck my dick while I was working? That’s hot as hell! Can I book you for tomorrow?” His hand reached down, and he cupped himself.

  “You’ve got a performance to prepare for. I’ll get us in on Saturday. I’m busy for the rest of the week. Your event is almost here! It’s crunch time for me. Besides, I need space from Fleur-De-Lis and Sara. We can grab lunch or something this week, but the blow job will have to wait.”

  Victor reached out to take my hand and pull me into him. He smelled so damn good. I rested my head on his chest and breathed him in. I didn’t want to let go.

  “Bring a mask Friday,” I whispered into his ear before kissing him good-bye.

  “I always have my mask on.” He slumped his shoulders forward and opened the door for me to leave.

  Sara waddled down the hallway toward his office.

  “We will touch base again soon.” His voice went flat.

  Sara’s smirk grew wide as she approached me.

  “Sara!” I stopped her. “Thank you so much for letting me know that those pictures were floating around! Drunken college nights—what can I say? I’ll be doing damage control today to clear all of that upon the big, bad interwebs. I’m glad Victor brought it to my attention. He was so sweet and understanding about my naked photos. He said he had looked over them several … several times to make sure that they were really me. His face was so red! I think he might have been a bit embarrassed to have seen my naked breasts. But he had to verify that it was indeed his employee, and there was no denying that it was me.” I shrugged my shoulders and left her standing there, mouth agape.

  Victor had been texting me nonstop throughout the week. Surprisingly, he hadn’t even asked how his circus was coming along. But he had asked about the sex club, and he’d told me that he was shopping for new masks—matching ones.

  I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The second I stepped back into that club, I would be triggered like crazy. I could still see my ex and my ex-best friend canoodling on that couch. No matter how hard I had worked to erase that memory, I couldn’t. I hoped never to have a memory like that forced upon me again.

  I came home from work, slipped into a comfy pair of yoga pants, and immediately began cleaning. Because I had been out of my home all week, busy with Victor’s event, I couldn’t even take the time to make my place presentable for him. There would be no razzle-dazzling going on in my drab place. I certainly didn’t have the granite countertops or the hardwoods and chandeliers. I had boob light fixtures—circa the seventies—carpet that needed to be replaced six years ago, and the smell … as much as I tried to cover it up, was just shit—bird shit. My apartment was the only place I had lived in since my divorce, and I had been too busy building my career to care much about it.

  I checked my calendar, counting down the days until Christmas. Right after the New Year was when I wanted to purchase a home and be out of here. Sixteen days. That was all I had to meet my goal. I hoped Victor would give us all bigger bonuses if we knocked this out of the ballpark.

  I tidied my bedroom and put fresh linens on my bed before I lay down for the night. The drama of tomorrow’s sex club date had me on edge.

  What if I see my ex there? What if someone recognizes me?

  I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, awakening to the chorus of chirping and dirty birdy chatter next door. I heard a woman this time—but not just any woman. There was no mistaking that snotty voice even if she was two octaves higher than usual.

  Sara started barking out commands, “You listen here, man-whore! I said, I like it rough. What are you, some kind of pussy? Time to toughen up.”

  I heard a yelp and a slap, and then the parrot repeated her almost word for word. I put my hand over my mouth to both stifle my giggles and to keep myself from puking.

  “I want you to give it to me dirty! Now! I shit turds harder than you!” she yelled.

  My mouth dropped open.

  Holy shit.

  “Squawk! Shit turds. Squawk!” the parrot chirped.

  I pressed record on my phone and quietly pushed it up against the wall. She could pull out any scandalous pictures of me she could find, but I would, in turn, pull out her shitty dirty talk. I giggled as she ordered my poor neighbor around. He was unusually silent during this shitshow. I imagined them in a mess of tangled limbs and feathers while his audience of birds grew louder and louder. Finally, when things seemed to be almost over, I heard her scream.

  “Victooooooooooooor!” she cried out.

  “Squawk! Victor! Squawk!”

  Oh. My. Gosh.

  I was still recording the audio, but in my shock, I dropped my phone. It crashed down hard onto the floor, echoing off the walls. I held my breath, listening, but heard only dead silence from the bedroom next door. I cringed as I picked my phone back up and tiptoed back into bed. There was no way Sara could know that I was her lover’s nosy neighbor.

  Or could she?
>
  I threw my robe on and ran into the hallway to watch Sara’s walk of shame. My neighbor always sent them home after he finished with them, no matter what time of the night. I cracked my door open and waited.

  Sara shuffled out, slamming my neighbor’s door shut and stomping off. I guessed my neighbor didn’t like being called Victor. I fidgeted with my doorknob, inspecting it as if it were the most exciting doorknob in the world when Sara looked up and met my eyes. Her face turned so pink, red, and then purple. This memory would stay ingrained in my brain forever too.

  Checkmate.

  “Oh, hi, Sara! What are you doing here? You don’t look so good—like your feathers are ruffled. Everything okay?” I smiled the most genuine smile I’d had since I last saw Victor.

  “Fuck off, Samantha.” She barreled past me.

  “That isn’t appropriate talk for someone working at Fleur-De-Lis! I shit turds more appropriate than that!” I called out after her as she ran down the stairs.

  I had Sara by the balls—her balls. The ones she had stolen from that pussy next door.

  Eight

  Victor

  I took a few quick breaths and tapped on Samantha’s door. I hadn’t been to another woman’s home in a very long time. I had excellent manners, and I knew how to be a proper guest, but Samantha intimidated the fuck out of me. I was always on my toes when she was around, but oddly enough, she was the only person I’d been able to relax around too. I wanted to spend every waking moment with her. I wanted to get to know her, and I wanted her to know me—Victor, in all my forms, masked and not.

  “Hey you! Come on in.” She opened the door and pecked me on the lips. “I’m just grabbing my things, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  I stepped into her apartment and noticed it was straight out of another era. I looked across the kitchen and into a gold-crackled glass mirror that mostly covered dingy wallpaper in a paisley print. A stained-glass lamp hung above her kitchen table. Her apartment could have been the set for a seventies-style porn movie. I could grow a mustache and fit right in perfectly.

  Bow chicka wow wow.

  “I already know what you’re thinking. This place is old. There’s a lot of history in these walls, and most of it, I don’t think I want to know about. But the location is good, and my job keeps me busy enough not to be here. Hopefully, I’ll be out of here by the end of the year and into my own home. Maybe the super-white one you heckled me about.” She smoothed her dress in front of the gold-crackled mirror. The silky material clung to her petite frame, showing every dangerous curve on her body.

  “I think it’s pretty cool. Like stepping back in time.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, maybe giving a sly touch to my already-hard dick as I watched her put on her heels.

  “Let me help you.” I knelt next to her and slipped on her shoes, fumbling with the buckles.

  I slowly brushed the back of my hand up her thigh before bringing it back down again and kissing the top of her foot. Her flesh prickled at my touch.

  “Aw! What a Prince Charming! Keep doing that, and we’ll never get out of here.” She kissed the top of my head.

  “I went from asshole-in-chief to Prince Charming. Winning!” I said, picking myself up off the floor.

  “Are you ready, Prince Charming? No flailing noodles, no Malcolm. But I wouldn’t exactly turn down champagne.” She hooked her arm in mine as I led her downstairs to our ride.

  “I’m way ahead of you. I got you something too. And I have those masks. And … about the masks.”

  She stopped walking and turned to me. “What about the masks?” Her voice deflated.

  “Nothing bad. Not really. Maybe. Sort of. Our faces will be covered, so no worries there. No one will know it’s us. At all,” I stammered. “It will be impossible.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Come on. Let’s get in the car. I’ll show you.”

  The same grinning driver from the flailing noodle night held the limo’s door open and let us inside.

  “Let me give you my gift first. I think it might soften the blow.” I pulled a little black box from a bag and handed it to her.

  “What do you mean, soften the blow? Now, I’m nervous.”

  “I’m nervous too! I’m doing my best not to fuck anything up this time and just be myself—at a sex club, with the hottest woman in New Orleans. Open it.” I nodded toward the box.

  She reached inside and pulled out a diamond necklace charm in the shape of the phantom mask. Her hands shook while she cradled it in her palm, running her fingertip over the charm.

  “Here. I’ll put it on you.”

  She held the necklace out for me and turned her neck. I brushed her hair to the side, watching the goose bumps rise at the nape of her hairline.

  “I want you to have my mask. I don’t want to wear it anymore with you. I want to be yours, and you, mine. No masks allowed. Keep it there, and don’t let me wear it. It can be a reminder to both of us.” I clasped the chain and kissed her cheek.

  “I don’t … I don’t even know what to say. It’s gorgeous and like nothing I’ve ever seen. Only you could have pulled that off. No more masks, promise?”

  “Well, that’s a problem. No more masks between us, but tonight, we do have to wear a mask. My order somehow got screwed up, and”—I handed her a much larger box—“these are the masks they sent. It’s all I have.”

  Samantha opened the box and pulled out two neon-green Mexican wrestling masks. “Are you kidding me?” She dropped the masks in her lap.

  “I wish I were,” I sighed. “But, hey! Remember that awesome necklace hanging around your neck? Yeah! Let’s focus on that baby! She’s shiny and different and—”

  “And will be glowing underneath this neon head condom.” She pinched the mask between her fingers and held it up to my face.

  I pressed my palms to my forehead.

  “Do you want to cancel? I didn’t even know about these masks until I opened them on my way to you. I’m so sorry, Samantha.”

  “Nope. We’re not canceling. We’re going to wear our wrestling masks and wrestle onstage, giving the performance you told me you wanted to give. At least with this latex nightmare, no one will know who we are or give us a second glance. In fact, we’ll probably scare them all off.”

  “Good. I don’t share, and neither do you.” I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled into my fake microphone, “Let’s get ready to ruuuumble!”

  We entered the building through a sketchy back alley. The smell of cheap cologne and cat piss hung heavy in the air. For a quick moment, I wanted to turn away and run back to more familiar territory. Music thumped through the walls, bouncing off the bricks and down the alley. I didn’t know if my bubbly feeling was the bassline in my soul or a nervous stomach. I swallowed hard and let Samantha lead the way.

  “I feel like the circulation to my brain is getting cut off in this thing,” I whispered to her as she gave a secret knock on the back door. I assumed it was a secret knock anyway. I might be making this adventure more dramatic than it was.

  “Pipe down, Throat-Punch Jones, or I’ll deliver a pile driver you’ll never forget,” she hissed at me. Her mask pulled tight around her face, making her head look two times too small.

  “You’re really getting into character, aren’t you?” I put my arm around her and squeezed.

  Samantha slipped the doorman her ID through a mail slot.

  “Adam.” She nodded as he opened the door and let us inside.

  “Long time no see, Sam. Those are quite the masks you two are wearing tonight. I’m sure you’ll get lots of interesting conversations out of it at least. But probably just that and nothing more.” He handed Samantha her ID and backed away from us.

  “Oh, you know, trying something new. Don’t shame the kink community, right? Latex … wrestling … it’s just another day for us swingers.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me through a dark hallway, toward flashing lights.

  The bass from the music thumped h
arder in my veins. It was all I could hear—until I reached an open room the size of a small warehouse. Moaning and grunts grew louder than the tunes vibrating off of the walls. It sounded like a bunch of farm animals at a rave. I was positive I heard a donkey in here somewhere.

  Samantha led me to a bar in the back where we ordered drinks right beside a man getting a blow job. He looked at me, shook his head, and took a sip of his whiskey as if everything were normal. As if his dick wasn’t hanging out with not one, but two blondies playing with it. And as if standing next to a pro wrestler in the middle of it all wasn’t absurd.

  My cock thickened as I tried to discreetly watch the blondies work. I had never seen such a place before in my life. I’d been to strip clubs in the past, but this was no strip club. I glanced around the room at people fucking everywhere. I noticed couch after couch crawling with couples. I couldn’t figure out where one person ended and another began.

  “This is the wildest thing I’ve ever seen!” I said to Samantha as she handed me my drink and threw her own back.

  Her eyes darted around from under her mask.

  “Hey, are you okay? Is it okay we’re here?” I reached out and rubbed between her shoulder blades.

  “It’s wild because it’s the main room. Show-offs. There are other rooms if you want to find someplace quieter.” Her body stiffened. She hadn’t answered my question.

  “Show me. Take me somewhere we can be alone.”

  We grabbed our drinks and headed down another hallway with doors on either side. We walked by an open room with the biggest bed I’d ever seen. A jumble of hands, feet, penises, and butts rolled around the bed like a giant creature from out of space.

  Nope. Not that room.

  We kept walking until we reached the end of the hall where a dim red light shone through the doorway.

  “Let’s talk here. I need to get myself together before I go back in there,” she whispered.

  It was much quieter on this side of the building.

  We walked toward an empty corner table and sat down.