by Ellie Rowe
“Is that how you talk to old friends?” Chief Anderson laughs so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my ear. He’s a good and loyal friend but, damn, the man doesn’t know how to turn it down. “What is this time, Silver?”
“It’s a simple favor,” I reply. “I need to know the name and address of a stripper.”
“A stripper?” Again, that booming laughter. Jesus. “What in the world has gotten into you? You’re not the kind of guy to go chasing after women, let alone strippers.”
“Never mind that. I just need you to get me that name and address. She works at Wiggle Jiggle and—”
“That’s probably Becky Brash you’re talking about. Great hair, looks like sin, and purrs like a kitten?” When I don’t say anything, Chief Anderson laughs again. “What? A Chief of Police needs to inspect these joints from time to time. And Becky...well, she’s something, isn’t she? No wonder you’re smitten. Everyone who goes there ends up just like you.”
“I’m not smitten.” It’s a bald-faced lie, but whatever. “Just get me that address, will ya?”
“Sure, just gimme a second.” I hear the clatter of his keyboard for a couple of seconds and then he clears his throat. “Alright, here it is. I’m texting it to you. She lives in Greenwich Village.”
“Thanks, Chief, I owe you one.” No more than a second later and I’m already heading for the door. I text the driver to pull my limo around and, by the time I get to the ground floor, the car’s already waiting for me on the curb.
Let’s be honest here, I have no idea what I’m doing.
All I know is that I need to see this woman—Becky Brash. I have no idea if she’ll be happy to see me, sure, but I still gotta risk it. It’s either that or go batshit crazy. I mean, I was considering giving Max fucking Kleeberger a seat on the board. It doesn’t get any crazier than that.
“It’s here,” I tell the driver once I spot the right house, and I’m out of the car in the blink of an eye. I stand there for a moment, under the dappled shadow of the trees, and stare at the door like a teenage boy before prom. Thankfully, I’m a grown-ass man, and I’m used to getting what I want.
I climb the steps two at a time and rap my knuckles against the door. I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I wait, and wait, and wait…
I knock again, suddenly afraid she’s not home, and that’s when I hear soft footsteps on the other side of the door. Then I hear the lock turning, the door swings open, and there she is.
Becky Brash.
Or, rather, an half-naked Becky Brash.
Six
Becky
No way.
This can’t be Peter Silver on my doorstep. I blink—once, and then twice—but the man standing here doesn’t turn into the delivery man. No, this is really Peter Silver in all of his 6’2 glory.
It doesn’t take long before I regain my composure. After all, a woman like me can’t lose her shit every time she meets a hot guy. Granted, Peter Silver is hotter than lava, and his presence is enough to send bolts of lightning up my spine, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna drop my panties just because he figured out where I live.
Damn it, my panties!
I didn’t put on a robe before I waltzed to the door, and now I’m standing here in nothing but a short tank top and cutesy pink panties. My fingers twitch, my instincts demanding that I cover myself, but I just ignore them. I’m already here, his eyes are pretty much devouring every naked inch of my body...and I look good. Why ruin the moment?
“Becky Brash,” Peter says in that deep bass of his.
I just arch an eyebrow.
“You’ve figured out my name.” I clap my hands and offer him a mocking grin. “Congratulations. Do you want a medal?”
“A medal?” He smirks and, even if only for a moment, he drops that holier-than-thou attitude. “I’m not interested in medals. I’m interested in you.”
“You know, I’ve had stalkers before, and I can’t say I appreciate them.” I move to close the door, but I’m only playing a game here. I’m actually curious about Peter Silver. Just like I knew he would do, he puts his foot forward, stopping me from slamming the door in his face. “Do I need to call the police?”
“No.” He takes his foot and shows me the palms of his hands. That devilish grin of his, though, it never leaves his face. “I come in peace. I just…”
“Yeah?” I fold my arms over my chest...and do it in such a way that my breasts are pushed up, offering him an ample view of my cleavage. Men—it really doesn’t matter how much money they have...once you push the right buttons, they all dance to your tune. “Spit it out.”
“I had to see you,” he says, and I can tell he’s not the kind of guy who’s used to saying stuff like this. No, with guys like Peter Silver and Darian Strong, it’s the other way around. Women chase after them.
Too bad he’s in my world now.
“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin?” I shake my head and laugh. When a stray lock of hair falls in front of my eyes, I blow it out of my face, making it look as if I’m blowing him a kiss. “I’m sorry, but a stripper isn’t the sort of woman you should be looking for. I’m a dancer, not a—.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” That rakish grin of his widens, and it makes him look even more handsome than he already is. Hell, it should be illegal for him to have a smile like this. He’s tall, ripped, and has more money than God—a smile like this is just overkill. “But I don’t think you’re enjoying this conversation as much as you enjoyed last night.”
Well, damn.
I’m not going to argue against that one.
Thing is, what happened last time wasn’t planned. At all. When I first saw Peter Silver and Darian Strong meeting with Max, I knew I had to squeeze myself in there...but I didn’t think things would get as wild as they did.
Sure, after getting home I tried convincing myself that it was part of the job, that I had no other choice…but that was bullshit. I sauntered over to these guys because I couldn’t help it.
I told myself I was ‘investigating’ and ‘doing my job’, but that was bullshit. Not that I feel bad about it—any woman in my shoes would’ve done the same, and that’s without bringing the whole undercover thing into this.
“What if I enjoyed last night?” I shrug my shoulders. “I’m a stripper, not a saint.”
“I never said you were a saint.” He narrows his eyes, which gives a dangerous edge to his smile. I don’t want to feel like prey right now, but I have to admit—it feels good to be Peter Silver’s prey. “In fact, Becky, the last thing I want you to be is a saint.”
I know I should put a stop to this conversation, but I just can’t help it. My heart is thrumming inside my chest, my blood has already started to simmer, and there’s a knot in my stomach.
Alright, let’s be logical about this.
This dance of ours might be dangerous, but I need to remain on Peter’s good side , just as I need to figure out what’s going on between Max and him. Because if Peter or Darian are involved in some shady stuff...I’ll be more than happy to crush them alongside Max. I’ll be sad to put two handsome guys behind bars, sure, but I’ll do it all the same. Good looks are a poor shield when it comes to the FBI.
“Then what would you like me to be?” I purr, drawing out the words.
“I would like you to be…” He shrugs. “You.”
Now that I wasn’t expecting. Most men turn me into some fantasy inside their heads, a woman who’s a mere brainless shell of herself, but Peter...well, this is intriguing, to say the least.
“Alright, you did well with that one.” I take a step back and wave him in. “Step into my lair and tell me exactly why you’ve come here.”
He steps into my house, his eyes never leaving mine, and shuts the door with his heel. I only realize that he’s standing a few inches from me when I start feeling the heat coming off his body.
“I’ve told you why I’ve come,” he whispers, his unblinking eyes locked on mine
. “After last night...I don’t know what you did to me, but I can’t stop thinking about you.” Before I can do anything about it, he grabs me by the hand. Gently, he kisses my knuckles. “I can’t stop thinking about the way you used these fingers…”
“Don’t tell me it’s my fingers that are keeping you up.” I try to laugh, but it comes out as a weak croak. Shit, he’s throwing me off my game, and I have no idea on how to stop it. My panties are already growing wet, and my heart is beating so hard I can’t even hear my own thoughts.
“It’s more than just your fingers.” He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’ve dreamt of these lips too.” His thumb moves down to the valley between my breasts, and then it makes the hike up my right breast. When he finally brushes his palm over my nipples, they become so hard that I can’t even distinguish pain from pleasure.
“And what else…?” I whisper, the world spinning all around me.
“You know what else,” he whispers back, and his fingers move down to my belly, and then further down.
It happens fast.
He places one hand on my hip and flattens the other right between my legs. With a quick movement, he spins me around and pins me against the wall, his hand tightly pressed against my aching pussy.
I know, I know…
I shouldn’t be doing this. But guess what?
I’m totally doing this.
Seven
Becky
I turn back around, so that we’re face to face. Trailing my fingers up his chest, I begin to slowly unbutton his shirt, really drawing it out. I want to torture him, make him want me even more until he can’t take it any longer.
Once there are only three buttons left, I rip the rest open and yank his shirt off. The buttons go flying, and Peter smirks. He begins to reach for my panties, but I wag my finger at him, shooting him a smirk of my own.
I reach down, unbutton his pants, and yank them down, making sure my fingers graze his rock-hard cock as much as they can. When I pull down his boxers, his huge cock springs out, and the moment I see it, I can feel my clit pulsing. I’ve been with a considerable number of men, but none of them were this big. My need for him becomes even more intense.
Taking his hand, I lead him to the bed, planning on giving him a sexy strip tease. Instead, he grabs me around the waist and pushes me down onto the bed.
He rips my panties off, totally shredding them. I gasp, surprised at his sudden aggression. This is the kind of man I’ve been craving and failing at finding. He quickly pulls off my tank top, leaving me bare.
Taking in my naked body, he gently trails his fingers from my neck down to my inner thigh, before pulling me to him and pressing his lips to mine. The moment our lips touch, everything changes.
I roll over so that I’m on top of him, and begin leaving urgent kisses across his chest, and down his abs. Finally, I reach his cock. I take him into my mouth, slowly pushing him down my throat. We lock eyes as I slide him in further and further.
As soon as his cock meets the back of my throat, it triggers my gag reflex, but I don’t pull away. I love a good challenge. Making my way back up to the tip of his member, I massage my tongue against him.
My pace quickens, and Peter grunts, grabbing a handful of my hair at the same time. I slam him into my throat over and over again, choking on his dick, and loving every second of it.
His balls slap against my chin each time I take him, until I decide to take those in to. I grab his thighs for support, digging my nails in, as I push him even further in until my tongue touches his balls. Peter gasps at the feeling, pulling my hair so hard I fear he might rip a chunk out.
“Fuck… Beck… I can’t- I’m gonna cum…” he manages to grunt out.
I flick my tongue across his balls until seconds later, he bursts inside my throat. I hold him inside of my mouth until he’s done, before slowly pulling him out and wiping my mouth, giggling at the look of pure pleasure on his face.
Already ready for more, I straddle him. Without wasting a second, he grabs me by the hips, shifting our position so that he’s on top of me, and then turning me onto my stomach.
He begins massaging my pussy while kissing my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Replacing his hands with his cock, he massages it against my clit, before pushing his tip against my entrance.
“Wait,” I whisper.
I grab his cock and guide it just a little bit higher, pushing it against my other entrance instead.
“Fuck, yes,” he whispers back.
Peter slowly pushes his cock into my ass. He’s so big, that even though I’ve done my fair share of anal, I can’t help but wince.
He eases himself in, an inch at a time, for my sake. But I don’t need him to be gentle with me. I push my ass up into him, until his balls smack against my pussy as I take him all the way to the hilt.
I cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He feels so fucking good inside of me, even better than I could have imagined. So when he starts pumping himself into me in aggressive thrusts, I embrace it, and I even begin to bounce my ass on his cock at the same time.
He grips my hips, allowing himself to fuck me even harder. Then with one hand, he slaps my right cheek as hard as he can. I squeal. Another slap comes.
“Fuck, Pete don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop,” I moan.
His thrusts come even faster and his slaps more aggressively. Then he grabs me by the neck with both hands, slightly pulling it back towards him and softly choking me. My orgasm begins, and I can tell he’s about to cum.
I arch my back, and his hands tighten around my throat. His thrusts begin to slow down, until he cums inside of me. The two of us are in sync as we reach the height of our pleasure together, being as loud as we want without a care in the world.
Once we’ve finished, he pulls out of me and collapses onto his back, in a complete daze. I chuckle. This man must not be used to being with a woman like me.
I roll over, resting my head on his chest, catching my breath with him. I can’t lie, he fucked me good. Better than any man before him, that’s for sure. But I expected as much from guy as hot and ripped as he is. Plus, there something about Peter that just screams good dick energy.
After a few minutes, we go for a second round- this time with me in control. I ride him until both of us cum together again, and somehow the sex just keeps getting better. I have a feeling he’s the kind of guy that anyone would be happy fucking for the rest of their life.
We collapse next to each other on my bed, and I lay on my stomach with cum all over my back, slowly dripping down my waist and onto the bed. I’m about ready to pass the fuck out, and I assume Peter is as well, until he hops out of bed and starts getting dressed.
“So I was wondering,” he says. I turn my head towards him.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to be my date to this Real Estate Investor’s Gala tomorrow? It’s pretty fancy, and it’s going to be in Union Square.”
“Sure, why not? I love a good formal event, so I’m down. I have a few dresses that would make any man’s jaw drop to the floor.”
“I bet you do,” he says with a wink.
Goddamn, he’s cute.
I really do love an excuse to dress up- but even better, it could be an opportunity to get some dirt for my case. I might be able to find out if Peter is up to anything shady, or if he just happened to be right in the middle of Max’s obvious scheme. Either way, it’ll be a good time.
I can’t help but hope that Peter isn’t actually involved. After what happened to my dad- the whole reason I’m doing this job is to take down people like the ones who murdered him. I really don’t want to have to stop fucking this guy to put him behind bars- but I will if I have to.
He finishes getting dressed, and then squeezes my ass before leaving without another word. A very small part of me wishes he had stayed just a little longer.
Eight
Darian
It’s been two days since that phenomenal lap dance from Bec
ky, and for some unknown reason- I still can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, that woman was a fucking goddess, so I guess the reason isn’t completely unknown. But there’s something else to it.
I try to push her out of my head as I get ready for this evening’s endeavors. Tonight is the Real Estate Investors Gala and for some reason I’m not really looking forward to it. Normally I love these kinds of things, but right now I just feel like I can’t wait to get it over with.
I throw on my best suit, a dark navy blue, with some all-white sneakers (my go-to). The sneakers add something to the outfit to make me look a little less serious. Plus the ladies love it.
Instead of driving myself, I call a taxi to come and pick me up, because the only way I’m going to survive this night is by being completely wasted. Especially knowing that Peter will most likely be there.
My driver arrives, and suddenly I’m already arriving at Union Square. I guess I spent the whole drive daydreaming about Becky. As soon as I step out of the car and tip my driver, I head straight to the bar.
“Scotch neat, please,” I tell the bartender as I claim a stool.
“I’ll have the same,” says a tall, raven-haired woman, plopping down in the chair next to me.
We make eye contact, and she shoots me a smile. I can tell she’s trying to flirt with me, but honestly, I’m too distracted to do anything about it.
I sip my scotch, trying not to get too wasted too quickly- I still have an entire night to make annoying small talk and pretend that I care.
Ah, who cares.
“Another scotch neat, please.”
“Bad day?” The raven-haired girl purrs.
“Nope.”
I down the rest of my drink and turn around, ready to escape this girl that I have no interest in. And that’s when I see her.
A tall, goddess of a woman with long, silky hair. In a tight, slinky black dress that might be slightly inappropriate for this type of event. But she pulls it off, and the entire gala orbits around her beauty.
