Mr. Big Ego (Dirty South Book 3)

by Kat Addams

  “It’s the noob room for pre-show jitters.” She nodded toward the two couples who were sitting, talking and fully dressed.

  “Aha! Good. You looked like you could use some quiet.”

  She sighed and rolled her mask up to her forehead so that I could see her face. “This is the place where my life changed forever. It’s where I walked in and saw my husband and best friend.”

  “Oh shit. Why didn’t you tell me? I’m sorry, Samantha. I thought it was just a place y’all came to. I didn’t know it was the place that was burned forever in your brain. Come on; let’s go.”

  I stood up to leave, but she grabbed my hand and pulled me back into my chair.

  “No. No more masks. No more past life.” She clutched her necklace. “I can get through this. I want to do this … for you and me.”

  “I don’t want you to do anything for me. I want you to do it all for you. So, if you think you can’t handle it—”

  “Excuse me? Can’t handle it? Do you even know me?”

  I rolled my mask up so that she could see my face too. “I do know you … very well. I’ve not stopped thinking about you since Halloween. I want to do this with you, too, but not at your expense. I care for you, and … well, I think I love you.”

  “Victor! You can’t tell me that in the back room of a sex club, wearing a neon-green Mexican wrestling mask! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I was going to wait until later, but I wanted you to know now, so you realize that I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I want you to feel safe with me. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Remember? I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  She sighed and rolled her mask back down. “I do want to do this. For me. You’re just a bonus that comes with it.”

  “Well then, I’ll be by your side, supporting you—and maybe giving you that pile driver you mentioned.” I wiggled my brows before rolling my mask over my face.

  “You really think you love me?” She brushed her fingertips across her necklace.

  “I don’t think anything. I know I do. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way about anyone. I want this to work. I think we make a good team, wrestling or not.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her up and into me. “That mask I gave you isn’t just a pretty bauble. Let it remind you who I really am and how I’m doing my best to always be real—with you especially. Work … that’s another story. I’m getting there, but I’m your Phantom Man.”

  She sucked in her breath as I kissed her hard. Her lips tasted of whiskey and latex.

  “Show me how well you perform for a crowd, Phantom Man. Let’s start the show.”

  With a little nudge from her, all of my nervousness evaporated. After I’d confessed my feelings, I felt a weight had lifted off me. I hadn’t planned on telling her how I felt so soon, but her eyes had been wide with terror, and I’d needed her to know that she was safe with me—pro wrestler Victor the Vile.

  “So, what do you think so far? About the club?” she asked as we walked back toward the main room.

  “I’m shocked. I thought it would be a lot sketchier. All of these people look normal, and it smells normal here too. Not like badussy.”

  “Like what? Ba-da, huh?”

  “Badussy. You know, booty, dick, and pussy,” I yelled over the music that grew louder and louder as we approached our stage.

  She stopped in the middle of the hall, put her hand to her heart, and shook her head. “I did not just hear that. How am I supposed to get turned on when you’re talking like that?”

  “I can do better. Just show me where that couch is that you don’t like. The one stuck in your brain. We’re about to make new memories on it.”

  She growled, pushing me up against the wall. “Oh, yeah? I like that. I really, really like that. Let’s show everyone that I’m yours.”

  “I’ll make you mine all right.”

  She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward a ridiculously wide couch that might as well have been a bed. A couple had already claimed one end of it. The young woman sat, bouncing on top of a creepy, older man. Her head turned to another much younger man next to her. His dick pushed into her mouth.

  Women are better at multitasking.

  “Ready for our wrestling match?” I picked Samantha’s tiny frame up and body-slammed her on the couch, jostling the couple on the other end.

  Their jaws dropped as I pretended to give Samantha a flying elbow drop and dived in next to her. We laughed so hard that the other couples nearby began to look our way too.

  “I can’t believe we’re going to do this. Are you sure you can’t tell who I am under this mask? It covers everything, right?”

  “Are you kidding me? I can barely see your face at all.” I climbed on top of her.

  By this time, we had a small crowd gathering around us.

  “Oh my gosh. We have an actual audience? Fuck. Don’t say my name. Come on. Let’s do this. Bring on the crazy, wild memories before I change my mind. This is awkward as hell.”

  “Can I wrestle you? Are you okay with that?”

  “Are we seriously role-playing now?”

  “Well, we do have on Mexican wrestling masks. And no one here knows who we are. Let’s do it.”

  She wrapped her hand around my neck and pushed me off of her and onto my back, climbing on top and straddling me.

  “Did you just choke-slam me?” I rubbed my hands on my neck.

  “Eat shit, Juan Dicko. You’re going down,” she growled before kissing me hard. Her teeth grazed my bottom lip as she gave it a rough nibble.

  “Not so fast, Masked Taco!” I overpowered her and flipped her around again, taking her wrists and pinning them behind her back. I held them down with one hand and pulled my cock out with the other.

  “Suicide dive in the butt!” I called out.

  But she leaped up, head-butting me and knocking me backward before I knew what had happened.

  “I’m okay. I got this,” I reassured the couple next to us, who peered down at me.

  They stopped what they had been doing and scrambled out of the way. I slowly regained my bearings and noticed we had a circle—a ring—around us. We were in the ring.

  Ding, ding, ding.

  “No butt stuff.” She tackled me back down and drop-kicked me across the chest before crawling on top of me. “Camel clutch, motherfucker.” She pulled her dress up, and in one quick motion, she slipped me inside of her.

  “Oh shit,” I groaned as she grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head.

  I wanted to let her win, but the crowd’s energy riled me up. I lived for this sort of attention.

  I let Samantha ride me hard and shit-talk me for all to hear as I planned my next move. It wasn’t easy. I tried to think of something clever, but my eyes rolled into the back of my head with each power slam she gave me.

  I sat up the moment she let go of my wrists and circled my arms around her waist, rolling her to the other side of the couch. My head smashed in between her tits.

  “Flapjack to the face!” I said without skipping a beat.

  “Did you just call my boobs flapjacks?” She threw her head back and roared.

  Uh-oh. Wrong fucking wrestling term.

  She forced me back onto the bed, clambered on top of me backward, and squeezed my head between her thighs. “Scissor hold, Juan Dickhead!”

  The crowd winced and groaned.

  This was one position I didn’t mind being in either. I didn’t care that I could barely breathe or that her ridiculously strong thighs smothered the air out of me. She was kicking my ass, and I loved every minute of it even if I thought she could crush a watermelon with her superhuman muscles.

  “Are you gonna fight back or just set up camp down there?” a voice called from the crowd.

  That was it. I didn’t like to lose. My brain joined back in the game.

  I pried her thighs apart and ducked my head out from between them. I wrestled her onto her stomach, flat against the cush
ions, and pile-drove right into her. My hips bounced against her ass while I leaned over and bit the back of her neck. She gripped the side of the couch, hanging on for dear life. I was going to win this match.

  The crowd started to cheer, nudging me on. Samantha’s gears shifted as she accepted her fate and took me like a champ.

  “Harder, Juan. Show them that I’m yours,” she barked back at me.

  “Finish her!” a voice yelled from the back.

  “Exploder suplex!” I screamed as I pinned her down and shot off inside her.

  The crowd hollered, catcalled, clapped, and laughed. The show was over, and I was spent.

  I collapsed beside her, panting. “Come on; let’s get out of here. This mask is going to strangle me. I can’t breathe!”

  “Same,” she said, hopping up and lowering her dress back down.

  We both bowed to the standing ovation and made our leave toward the exit.

  “That was quite the performance!” a unicorn-masked lady said as we rushed past her.

  We didn’t stop to thank her.

  The moment we hurled ourselves back into the limo, we both began clutching at our masks.

  “Mine’s not budging! Shit! I think my head grew bigger, or my mask shrank! I’m stuck.” I pulled at my mask until it hurt. My breathing hadn’t slowed since I fucked Samantha back on the couch-bed thing.

  “It’s because of the sweat. It’s harder to pull off now. Here, let me help. Don’t freak out! You’re going to make it worse!” She sat on my lap and tugged at my mask with no luck. “Well, you’re going to have to live in it, Juan Dicko!”

  “Fuck that. You pull that side, and I’ll pull this side.”

  I slipped both hands under my mask, and with Samantha’s help, we popped it off. I had never felt freer in my life. I gulped in the fresh air.

  “Hey.” She cupped my sweaty face in her palms and smiled at me.

  “Hey.” I smiled right back at her.

  “You put on quite the act back there. I think that’s my favorite Victor performance yet. Now, I have a good memory for the memory bank. Cancels out the other ones. Thank you.”

  I brushed her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear before kissing her forehead. “We’re just getting started.”

  “Hey, Victor?” She bit her lip and pinched her necklace between her fingertips, tugging it back and forth across her collarbone.

  “Hmm?” I searched her fluttering eyes.

  “I wanted to tell you … just not back there in that place … or with those masks. I think you should know … that I love you too.”

  If I sold ten million cases of rum, joined the circus, or lived the rest of my life without a mask, I still wouldn’t be as happy as I was at that very moment. Samantha Masson—the perfectionist from hell, my uptight and meticulous event planner, my sweet kitten, my masked fantasy, my dirty little secretary, my everything—had just told me that she loved me too.

  “Ready to start on those ten kids then?” I ran my hands up her thighs and gave her ass a firm squeeze.

  Nine

  Samantha

  Victor, Victor, Victor.

  I fantasized about him damn near every hour. I couldn’t get him out of my head. We’d spent every day together since our wrestling night at the club. That evening had ended in a lovemaking session back at my place—sans wrestling masks. And, yes, it had been a lovemaking session because we both admitted that an asshole-in-chief got along quite well with a stuffy event planner. I had goo-goo eyes, and he had goo-goo eyes. We were screwed.

  “What the hell?” he said mid-fuck.

  The birds sang out, and that pervy parrot began to bark orders.

  “I told you my neighbor liked to perform too—just in front of a flock.”

  “I thought you were joking! I thought birds were some type of code word for some kinky shit! Not actual birds!”

  He kept slowly moving inside of me, kissing my temples, forehead, lids, lips, and everywhere else that had been rubbed raw by the Mexican head condom.

  “My brain is creative but not that creative! Or …creepy!”

  “Squawk! Victor! Squawk!” the parrot called.

  My neighbor screamed for his pet—and us—to shut up.

  Victor stopped moving again and cocked his head to the side. “How does that bird know my name?” he asked.

  “This isn’t the best time to tell you … but remember when I said Sara was dating my neighbor?”

  He recoiled but remained inside me, still as hard as ever. “Gross. Don’t say her name while we’re doing this! Ugh!”

  “You asked! The bird knows your name because she shouted it while she was screwing my neighbor.”

  “Wait. Hold on. Are you serious? How do you know it was her?”

  “Because I saw her in the hallway. She told me to fuck off. I also recorded it. Want to hear?” I reached over to my nightstand for my phone.

  “No! No! No! Hell no. Ugh, I feel sick.”

  “Want to stop then?” I ran my hand through his hair and pulled myself up to kiss him.

  “Pfft. Yeah, right.” He shoved himself in deeper.

  I stood in the middle of the venue and watched the workers hang silks from the ceiling, creating a big-top illusion. The event would be perfection. The tables had been set up and decorated, the lighting and sound installed, and the performers had been practicing here since yesterday. I had booked several clowns, mimes, two aerial performers to hang around on steel cubes, and the tigers. Fleur-De-Lis and Victor would be impressed.

  “Hey you! This is freaking great!” Lisa elbowed me in the ribs.

  “Oh, hey! Thanks! How’s your end coming along? Are you going to be able to handle all of this tomorrow? You know I’ll be here for you. I’ll help with anything!”

  “It’s all been taken care of. I hired extra staff. Besides, I thought you might enjoy the party with your new man.” She leaned back and crossed her arms across her chest, smiling.

  “What new man? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “Bull honky! You do too! You have never smiled so much in your life.”

  “All right, all right. I do have a new man. But … I can’t tell you who he is … yet.” I shrugged.

  “Oh my gosh, I know him? Are you having an affair with Pete? Is it … no, you wouldn’t. You’re not back with …”

  I threw my hands in the air. “How dumb do you think I am?”

  “Sorry! You’re not dumb. I’m curious now though.” She looked up, tapping her chin.

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Maybe even have him tell you … at the party.”

  “I’m counting on it, lady. I want to know what kind of man makes you this happy!”

  I smiled, feeling the weight of the phantom necklace on my chest, tucked securely under my shirt.

  “Definitely not the type of man I thought, but he is amazing. A showstopper!”

  “Is that so? Well, if you two want to start things off hot and heavy, I could let you in on a little secret. You can really make him a showstopper.”

  “Go on.” I nodded.

  “Well, since I’ve been divorced, I’ve been trying to broaden my horizons. I have been letting loose and living out my college years that I never got to live out because I was too damn busy with work and kids.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again.

  “Uh-huh.” I grinned.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is … don’t judge me.”

  “You know me better than that!”

  “I know. But I just have to say it, so I don’t sound like such a slut. It’s for my benefit, not yours.”

  “I don’t judge. Promise. But now, I’m curious.”

  “There’s this place. A club. A swingers club. I’ve met both men and women there, and let me tell you, best sex of my life. No strings attached! I don’t have to wash a man’s dirty underwear or cook him a pot roast. I go in there, bang, and leave happy. No bullshit after! No pillow talk or any of that
crap. I can sleep in peace in my bed without listening to an old man snoring. It’s great for couples or singles, but it’s kind of hard to get into. You have to be screened.”

  Goose bumps formed on my arms, trailing up and over my shoulder blades and settling at the nape of my neck. My hair stood on end.

  “It sounds exciting! I’m not sure I would have the balls to do it! Aren’t you worried about the other people there seeing you? Or knowing you?”

  “Nah! Besides, if they did, then I would see them too! Most everyone there is nice and no creepers. Well, not really. There was this odd couple last weekend. They were like wrestlers or something. It was just … odd. But everyone has their kinks, so I just watched them go at it and hurled a few jeers here and there.”

  I laughed a little too long. “Wow. Some people are just crazy. Who does that? Text me the name and what I have to do to get in, and I’ll check it out! I’ve got to fix this.” I pointed toward the silks that had fallen to the floor.

  “Will do,” she shouted at me as I ran away. “And I’m holding you to it tomorrow! Mr. Perfect is going to have to let the cat out of the bag!”

  I fanned out the silks on the floor, situating them out of the way and blocking them off with bales of hay and more tables. The after-party cleanup crew was going to hate me, but this event would be the icing on the cake for my down payment on my house. I had to blow Victor’s party out of the water.

  I searched out a table in a quiet corner and sat down to clear my head. The entire time I spent prepping this event, I was also reliving memories of the nights before. I could barely concentrate on my work. My mind played in Victor Land, so I was oblivious to Sara sneaking up behind me.

  “Late night? You look tired. Been up clubbing all night?” She smirked.

  I groaned. This was getting ridiculous. “I don’t know what your issue is with me or what I ever did to you for you to hate me so bad, but if I did anything wrong, I’m sorry. I’m too old to play these games.”

  “Oh, puh-lease! You love the attention. Any attention you can get. That’s why you always show up to our meetings, wearing skintight clothes and dressing slutty.”

  I looked down at my jeans and sweater. I had never worn anything slutty while working, and rarely had I ever worn anything slutty at all. My closet was packed with little-old-lady attire. Even my party dresses were appropriate, save for maybe two of them. But those two dresses didn’t shout hooker on Bourbon Street either. What the fuck was she talking about?