by Vanessa Vale
Yeah, they couldn’t be hidden behind a simple top, no matter how prim it was. She’d be more than a handful. And those nipples? Plump, pink and perfect.
And the thing about her that made my dick even harder? Glasses.
Fuck, yes. Who knew I had a thing for a woman with glasses? Maybe I hadn’t had one before because it had never been her. Until now.
I smiled at Miss Sequins, sure to pack it full of charm. “What’s your name?”
She rolled her shoulders back which thrust her ample tits out. Her grin showed off perfect white teeth. “Ava.”
I angled my head to the side. “And your friend’s name?”
Ava put her arm around her shoulder and pulled her up next to her. “My BFF? Kaitlyn.”
Kaitlyn. Pretty name for a pretty woman. Kaitlyn glanced at me, then Jed. Her cheeks flushed—a pretty pink I was sure was the same shade as her pussy—and said, “Hey there.”
Soft and melodic. Perfect. Yeah, I’d gone insane, but I fucking wanted her. I wanted to know everything about her. Was she really a librarian or did she just give off that vibe? What kind of jelly did she like? Was she a morning person? God, if she was, then we would have a hot quickie before work every morning. Maybe even shower together and between me and Jed, we’d make her filthy dirty before we got her all clean again.
Ava reached out and turned my head back with a finger on my cheek so my eyes were on her again, not hot little Kaitlyn.
“So, about that phone number, Sir,” she mewled. “I just have to wonder if your beef is as big as they say.”
Of course, she knew who I was. Knew the nickname the tabloids had given me. I’d quit the circuit two years ago, but the name still stuck.
As for Ava? She wanted the famous pro rodeo champion, not the real me. Yeah, she wanted Sir Loin of Beef, not Landon Duke.
And I wasn’t interested. I was interested in Kaitlyn, who shyly looked at me and Jed, but did nothing more. Maybe it was because she didn’t want to get in Ava’s way with me. But that flush at Ava’s mention of my beef—oh, she’d be the one to see it… the only one—and the way she studied me and looked away, held hope. Because she was interested, yet was keeping the field open for her friend. The way her gaze flicked to Jed’s, she was interested in him, too. Just probably never thought about both of us claiming her. I just had to get Ava out of the way first.
“Okay, you two,” Kaitlyn said, leaning her head into her friend for a second. “Don’t have too much fun.” She glanced between me and Ava. “Get me another water, okay? I’m going to run to the restroom while you… whatever.”
Ava didn’t take her eyes off me as she nodded. And when Kaitlyn walked off, I was able to get a good look at her ass, big and round in her jean skirt. It came to just above her knees, but her full figure couldn’t be disguised. Oh yeah. I wanted to spank it. Grip it as I fucked her from behind. All kinds of dirty things. And when she looked over her shoulder at me with nothing but those glasses on, I’d blow my load. Hell, I was halfway there just thinking about it.
And wearing that skirt with a pair of cowboy boots… shit. Good thing the fucking bar hid the way my dick bulged in my jeans otherwise Ava would learn first hand how big my beef really was. I tucked my tongue back in my mouth and said to Ava, “Sorry, sugar.”
I gave her a grin—which hopefully softened the rejection since I wasn’t an asshole, and also because Ava was Kaitlyn’s BFF, and I wasn’t going to have the best friend of my woman thinking me a dick—then wiped my hands on a cloth. Ava was gorgeous, flirtatious and looked fun. Perfect maybe for Tucker, but I had my sights set somewhere else.
“Interested in Kaitlyn?”
I glanced the direction she’d gone. “Definitely.”
Ava, fortunately, was a good sport, and a cool BFF. She gave me a playful pout and said, “Lucky girl.”
Jed placed the pitcher of beer she’d originally asked for in front of her. I topped off a glass with ice and water for Kaitlyn and set it down, giving Ava a wink.
When she turned and blended into the crowd, Jed faced me.
“Did you see her? Kaitlyn,” he murmured, leaning in so we weren’t overheard. Not that it was really possible with the level of the music and women cheering the latest stripper. “Holy shit.”
“No fucking kidding,” I replied, licking my lips with an eagerness to get to her. Touch her. Taste her. “She’s the one. Who knew she’d come with a pair of glasses, a perfect handful of tits and a heart-shaped ass.”
“Her outfit left a lot to the imagination, and I’m imagining,” he said.
“It was sexy as hell,” I countered.
Someone smacked me on the arm. I turned around, found Julia.
Her chin was tipped up since we were both so much taller. “You two look like you’ve been kicked by a wild bronc. What gives?”
I grinned, but also shifted so she wouldn’t see the way my dick was straining in my pants.
“We found the perfect woman in all that,” Jed said, thumbing over his shoulder toward the crowd. Gone was his quick grin, replaced by an unusual sense of seriousness.
Both of us had given up on helping the bartenders, and we moved out of the way so they could deal with the crowd on their own.
Julia’s eyes widened at that, because while she knew we weren’t monks, we’d never once said we’d found The One—and it hadn’t been long since I’d shown up and she’d been poking fun at me. She knew about Dad’s tale of love at first sight and was waiting for a man, no men, of her own—I pitied any who tried to get past her brothers, and Jed—and a smile spread across her face.
“Really? Where is she?” She went up on her tiptoes and hunted, as if she could pick Kaitlyn out of the crowd.
With her long, curly red hair pulled back into a ponytail, Julia’s green eyes and freckles couldn’t be missed, even in the dim bar lighting. Her coloring had always been a mystery since no one else in the family, at least in recent memory, had genes like hers. My brothers and I always joked that she’d been adopted. Now, it was cute that she was so eager for us to find The One.
“She doesn’t have a sign on her, you idiot,” I told her.
She dropped back onto her heels, frowned.
“I was the one who got you here, remember,” she grumbled. When we just stared at her, she went on. “Fine, what’s she look like?”
“Dark hair in a bun,” Jed began. “About your height. Wearing a white button-up shirt and little skirt.”
Julia scanned the crowd.
And at the same time, Jed and I glanced at each other and added, “Glasses.”
“About my height with curves I’d kill for?” she asked, glancing at us over her shoulder. “Cowboy boots?”
I thought of those curves and how I wanted to get my hands on them.
“Definitely.”
“Is that her on stage about to get a lap dance from Mr. Sexy Cowboy?”
We whipped our heads to where Julia was pointing. Sure enough, there was Kaitlyn being led by the hand to an empty chair set in the center of the stage. The stripper, dressed up like a cowboy—barely in just a pair of leather chaps and a red thong, a cowboy hat on his head—waited until she was seated before he straddled her legs. And it wasn’t dancing he was doing right in front of her face.
“What the fuck?” Jed growled, picking Julia up and lifting her out of his way.
“Fuck, no,” I added. “If she’s going to have a dick in her face, it’s going to be mine.”
“Or mine,” Jed added.
Without a backwards glance at my sister, we stormed the stage.
3
KAITLYN
* * *
What had I gotten myself into? I was too stunned to be totally panicked. It wasn’t every day a stripper grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the audience. Me! There were well over a hundred women in the audience much more eager to see the guy in chaps strut his stuff, even stuffing some dollar bills into the tiny little thong he wore. That little scrap of spandex did nothing
… nothing… to hide his junk. It was all but swinging about as he tugged me along. Like how a freaking elephant trunk dangled.
Gah!
I glanced back at Ava and she was grinning and clapping, excited for me. I’d been too quick in the bathroom, and the water I’d been drinking didn’t help loosen me up and lower my inhibitions like the liquor the others around me were putting down.
I’d been working so much, Ava had all but threatened to come to my house and drag me out tonight, so I decided to skip going home altogether after work. Otherwise, she’d be right; I’d be in my PJs and vegging on the couch. She’d wanted me to ‘get back out there’ after the flop that had been Roger. Six weeks ago. It wasn’t as if I’d been heartbroken over the guy; he’d turned out to be a creep. A creep who didn’t seem to like to take no for an answer… still. As for Ava and my current situation on stage, I hadn’t realized getting back out there meant a lap dance.
It wasn’t as if I’d been chosen from the audience for the Price Is Right or something. Nope.
Definitely not, because the stripper had settled me into a chair that faced sideways to the audience. He moved in close. Real close so he was straddling me. The way we were positioned, everyone in the audience got a clear view of both of us in profile. And I got a clear view of his—
Sure, he was well-muscled. I couldn’t miss his eight-pack abs slicked with baby oil. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. But there wasn’t a bit of hair either, except on his head. He was hot and his smile could tug down the panties of most women, but he wasn’t rugged. Manly. A take-charge-and-dominate kind of guy. If I’d said no to being pulled to the stage, he wouldn’t have pursued me, but would easily have found another willing woman from the audience. Why I hadn’t done just that, I had no idea.
This was all show and he was pure, one hundred percent man candy. Unfortunately, he wasn’t lighting my fire in any way. I’d get publicly up close and personal with this guy and I’d get Ava off my back at least for a few days, but I wouldn’t be thinking of him tonight when I made myself come—all alone in my bed.
I wished Ava had been pulled up here because she’d be all over this. No, she’d be all over him, her hands sliding over his slick skin, tucking bills into the edge of his G-string or the leather chaps. I looked up, saw him wink at me as he began to expertly move to the beat of the music, his hips gyrating and his barely covered, barely controlled dick began whipping around.
Ack!
I couldn’t push him away and get up. I wasn’t a prude; I was into men and certainly put my vibrator to good use with some steamy fantasies, but this wasn’t the guy—or guys—I wanted to see up close and way too personal. He wasn’t the guy whose junk I wanted to see, to fuck.
Surprisingly, my mind went right to the two men behind the bar earlier. The big, big men. I wouldn’t mind seeing them this close, this personal. Or even more personal. I had to guess they didn’t manscape and each of their dicks would be bigger than the stripper’s and they’d know just what to do with them.
And it wasn’t spinning them in circles. Yeah, if they were up here, I’d settle back and totally get into it. I clenched my thighs together at the thought of both of them. Yup, not a prude.
All of a sudden, the bright stage lights were blocked and Mr. Stripper and I were cast in shadow. I couldn’t see who had climbed on the stage because they were silhouetted, but they were big. Mr. Stripper stepped back, the others shifted to the side and all at once I could see who it was.
My heart leapt into my throat and it was possible I had drool on my chin. The ladies were practically screaming with excitement at the spontaneous appearance of the men from behind the bar. Two big, real cowboys had just joined the strip show.
The two I’d just been wishing for were up here. What the hell?
These two were hot. So fucking hot my panties were totally ruined just looking up at them. The lights showcased their height, their broad shoulders, the rippling, well-defined muscles—and they were wearing clothes. Their forearms were corded with muscle, and thank the dear Lord, sprinkled with dark hair. And the bulges in their jeans? Big, thick and blatant beneath the snug fabric. The bigger guy, the one Ava had hit on, his bulge aimed up toward his belt, the other’s tucked down his inner thigh. How did they function with those things in their pants? And out, wow. I could only imagine—and it wasn’t in a G-string nor being spun about.
I glanced up at them and they had their eyes on me. They’d been watching me stare at their cocks.
Oh my god. I had no doubt everyone in the building could see me flushing with mortification. I ran my sweaty palms down my jean skirt.
Mr. Stripper slapped the bigger man—aka Mr. Big—on the shoulder, gave him a smile as if he knew him. They spoke briefly, but I couldn’t hear a word of it over the ladies and the music. Mr. Stripper grinned and held up his hands as if he were being arrested, then stepped back a little more, holding one arm out signaling for Mr. Big to take his place in front of me.
He was going to do a strip tease? Now? Here? With me? I licked my lips at the thought, hoping his hands would go to his big belt buckle and undo it, slide down the zipper and pull that monster out.
I wanted to see it. And definitely up close and personal. He literally oozed masculinity, and I had no doubt I was getting drunk off the pheromones pumping out of him.
And his friend? The other man who’d been behind the bar most of the night slinging drinks, well, he was no slouch. Leaner, but thickly muscled, he had a relaxed demeanor, a sexy swagger. Bartender had blond hair, pale eyes and a square jaw that looked etched from marble. He only nodded a greeting at the stripper, then kept his eyes on me, his hands on his lean hips. It was as if he was taking in every single detail—with x-ray vision—from my cowboy boots to my pulled back hair. And every single inch in between.
The two of them, they were the rugged alpha males. Real cowboys. They were nothing like other men, making the stripper look average.
I should have gotten up, run off, but my brain was stalled on the guys from the bar being here. In front of me. I just sat and… ogled. And they were looking at me right back. As if they were predators and I was their prey. I started to stand, but Bartender put a hand on my shoulder to keep me in place, walked around to the back of my chair and leaned down.
“Easy, baby,” he murmured, his breath fanning my neck.
Were the stage lights making it hot in here? No. It was the sizzle of the simple touch, the rough timbre of his deep voice. And baby? That should have raised every red flag in my female arsenal. Instead, it made me shiver.
“You didn’t want that guy all over you, did you?” Bartender asked, his fingers sliding back and forth over my shoulder.
I shook my head, stared up—way up—at Mr. Big, who’d stepped right in front of me. I gulped at the way he looked at me. Eyes dark, heated, jaw clenched and every line of his body tense. Intent.
He dropped to his knees before me so we were eye level. The audience clapped and screamed, clearly pleased with the way things were going, but I barely heard them. I barely heard the music, the thump of bass. I only felt Bartender’s hand on my shoulder, held my breath in anticipation of what the other would do.
When Mr. Big gripped my ankles and began to slowly widen them, I didn’t resist. Not even when the motion parted my legs, making my jean skirt slide higher and higher up my thighs. And when his fingers stretched to curl around the front legs of the chair, pinning my lower legs to them, my gaze flicked to his.
His eyes met mine, held. It was as if he were waiting for me to say no, to tell him to stop. He was silently asking for permission.
I couldn’t deny him, because… several reasons. But the one that was most important, was I didn’t want to. I mean, his hands were big and remarkably gentle, and yet I knew he could beat someone unconscious if he really wanted.
But it wouldn’t be me. No, I could sense he had plans for me and they involved me being wide awake.
“You want two real men to ta
ke care of you? To give you what you need?” Bartender asked.
I tilted my head, glanced at him over my shoulder. I didn’t have to look far, for he was right there. I saw the sandy colored whiskers on his strong jaw, his full lips. I could smell him. Soap and mint and leather and Grade-A male. Grade-A beefcake.
My mind was a little muddled. Overwhelmed. I glanced out at the audience to look for Ava, to see if she thought this was as insane as I did, but couldn’t see her for the stage lights. I squinted, only able to see a blob of women. I could hear them, knew they were there hooting and shouting “You go, girl” and “Eat that pussy!” The entire bar was watching and could see everything. Mr. Big’s fingers gently squeezed and brought me back to the moment. To them. Did I want two real men to take care of me and give me what I needed?
Um, yeah.
Duh.
I nodded.
And that was what they’d been waiting for because Bartender put his hands on the back of the chair and tipped it back, then back a little more until I was at a forty-five-degree angle.
I gasped at the feeling of falling backwards, but he’d only angled me enough so that… Oh. My. God.
Angled so that I was tilted up and Mr. Big could see right up my skirt. With my legs spread, he could easily see my panties.
His eyes dropped there. There! My pussy clenched and I was instantly thankful I had on pretty underwear.
The crowd went wild, watching. Two men who’d been serving drinks were doing very naughty things with a woman from the audience. Me! Since I was sideways to them, the audience couldn’t see anything, but knew exactly what was going on. Could watch every expression on Mr. Big’s face as he looked at my panty-covered pussy.
“Tell me, angel,” he said. His voice was deep and rough. “Is that damp spot on your panties because of us?”
I flushed, realizing he was right. I was wet, wet enough that the gusset of my lacy panties was clinging to me. I could only imagine that the skimpy fabric barely covered my swollen lower lips, that the lace- trimmed thin silk was probably transparent now.
