by Jenika Snow
Table of Contents
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
A Real Man: Volume Six
Jenika Snow
A REAL MAN: VOLUME SIX
By Jenika Snow
www.JenikaSnow.com
[email protected]
Copyright © November 2017 by Jenika Snow
First E-book Publication: November 2017
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Cover model: Jase Dean
Photo provided by: Wander Book Club
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
Contents
Author’s Note
Newsletter
I. Mine
Mine
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
II. Alpha Male
I. Copyright
Alpha Male
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
III. Animal
II. Copyright
I. Animal
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
A Real Man Series
A Real Man: Volume One
A Real Man: Volume Two
A Real Man: Volume Three
A Real Man: Volume Four
Newsletter
About the Author
Author’s Note
This box-set contains the following A Real Man books:
Mine (A Real Man, 13)
Alpha Male (A Real Man, 14)
Animal (A Real man, 15)
All stories in the Real Man series can be read on their own.
Enjoy!
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MINE (A Real Man, 13)
By Jenika Snow
www.JenikaSnow.com
[email protected]
Copyright © May 2017 by Jenika Snow
First E-book Publication: May 2017
Photographer: Wander Aguiar :: Photography
Cover model: Jonny James and Desiree Crossman
Photo provided by: Wander Book Club
Editor: Kasi Alexander
Line Editor: Lea Ann Schafer
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
That one word has never meant so much.
Jana
Ballet was my life, but after getting injured, that dream faded. I still needed fast money, so I sucked up my pride and decided to strip.
Clubs could use a virgin stripper, right?
But from the moment I saw Cole Savage, owner of the strip club I was trying to get into, any rational thought left me.
He was dark and dangerous, and his personality screamed arrogance.
I wanted him, and by the way he looked at me, I knew he wanted me as well.
But I should keep it strictly business. That’s what I told myself anyway.
Cole
From the moment I first saw Jana, I wanted her. She needed a job at my club, but the possessive side of me rose up, demanding she was only mine. I might have just met her, but I was already so damn territorial of her.
If she wanted a job, I’d give her one, but she’d be keeping her clothes on.
I’ve been celibate for years, but it’s time to change that with her.
Jana would soon realize what it meant to be mine.
Warning: This is a short story featuring an over-the-top possessive hero who makes no secret that the heroine is his. It’s got dirty dancing, raunchy scenes, but is safe and has the Happily Ever After that comes with reading a Real Man story.
1
Jana
“Well, let me bring Mr. Savage in here to go over your résumé.”
I stared at the woman whose name was Poppy or Pippy or something equally fake sounding. I just nodded, not about to be a smart-ass and ask why I needed to speak with the owner of the club when I was applying to strip for them. Did he need to know where I’d gone to school before I took my clothes off?
Pippy or Poppy, or whatever the hell her name was, got up and left me in the swanky office alone. I had to give the place credit; it was high-class, like men had to fork over a shitload of money just to get into the VIP room.
I started picking at lent on my shirt. Although there probably was nothing there, I felt my nerves grow higher. The seconds moved by agonizingly slow. And then I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
The room became hotter, the air thicker. My skin felt tight, and despite facing the desk and not hearing anyone enter, I knew someone had come into the room.
I turned around in my chair, and there he was, this imposing figure of over six feet tall, wearing a dark three-piece suit, and having authority written all over him. His hair was coal colored, short. His eyes were this deep blue, so dark they almost could've been black. And I could see tattoos peeking out from under the collar of his shirt and jacket and creeping down his hands.
But it was his expression, his focus on me that had me sitting up straighter.
He walked closer, not saying anything, never taking his gaze off me. He sat behind the desk, finally looking away from me and staring down at the folder with my résumé.
For long moments he did nothing but look at those forms, at my qualifications. Although I don't know what he was trying to figure out, seeing as I was here to take my clothes off.
“I’m Cole Savage, the owner of the club. Tell me, Miss Banks, why would you want to work here?”
Was he serious? Did he want some long-drawn-out explanation on why I wanted to stand in front of a roomful of men, their gazes raking over my partially nude body, right before I twisted around on a silver pole?
Instead of lying and making up some excuse on why I needed the money, I just told him the truth.
“I used to dance.” When all he did was stare at me, I continued. “I did ballet, but I hurt my ankle and wasn't able to do it anymore. Instead of working a dead-end job,
cleaning tables or serving people their food, I figured the fastest way for me to pay off my debts is to strip.”
He didn't say anything, just leaned back in the leather chair, his arms folded over his broad chest, his gaze intense.
I shifted on my seat, feeling this uncomfortable tightness in my whole body. I didn’t know what it was about this man. Having him only five feet from me, his expression making me feel like he could see right through me, knew my every secret, made me feel unhinged.
He closed the folder, blocking out my résumé, making me feel like this was the end of the story. Maybe he didn't like what he saw? I wasn't well-endowed in the chest department, didn't have curves that went on for miles. I certainly wasn’t made like the women I saw dancing at his club.
I was a ballet dancer down to my very core, even if I was sitting in front of a strip club owner asking him to give me a job to get naked in front of strangers. I was graceful, thin. But I knew I danced beautifully.
If he wanted me to demonstrate what I had to offer, I'd be more than willing to give him a show he’d never forget.
He leaned forward then, his hands clasped on the table. I stared at his fingers, how long and strong they were. The backs of his hands had tattoos, his knuckles sporting the same ink. How much of this man was covered? How much of his golden, hard skin was painted in abstract, seemingly dangerous lines of black?
Strangely enough I wanted to know that. I wanted to see for myself.
I don't know what it was about him, but he made me feel like I walked on a tightrope, the ground beneath me an endless void of the unknown.
But I felt like falling off that rope into the abyss wouldn't be the worst thing that ever happened to me.
Cole
She’d left the office only five minutes ago, yet my entire body was still on fire. My cock was still a lead pipe between my thighs, aching, needing to be buried deep in her pussy.
The moment I saw her sitting there, her long black hair this wave of spilled ink along her shoulders and back, this possessiveness slammed into me. Never had I felt my body grow so hard, so tight. I hadn't even seen her face yet, but I knew she would be mine.
I’d fucking make that a reality.
And then I walked around the desk and stared at her delicate features: big blue eyes staring up at me, wide, unsure, unknowing. She seemed a little hesitant, almost afraid.
Good.
She was smart.
I was a man who was used to seeing fear in people's eyes the moment they saw me. It was who I was, how I've lived my life. I never claimed to be a good man. I made my living on what others saw as taboo, wrong even.
Jana Banks.
Even her name got my dick hard.
Although she was gorgeous, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, the very idea of having her get naked in front of a bunch of horny bastards made me furious.
I was surrounded by superficial beauty daily. I had tits and asses all up in my face. But this was a business, and I looked at it as such. I didn’t fuck my employees, no matter how much they came on to me.
But for Jana I’d bend the rules until they fucking broke in two.
I had no doubt she'd make me a lot of money stripping, grinding her glorious body along that silver pole. But in the five minutes I’d been in her presence, she was all I wanted.
I knew, without a doubt, that I would make her mine.
I held on to that possessiveness, that domineering nature that had gotten me through life. If Jana wanted to work here, I'd hire her. But what she'd soon come to realize was the only person she'd be stripping for was me.
2
Jana
I must've listened to the voice mail three times already. Mr. Savage wanted me to come in, to dance for him … privately.
Although I wasn't surprised since most strip clubs had an audition before they even considered hiring a dancer, this particular instance made me very nervous.
This was a job, a way for me to make money and pay my debts. Besides, if my hopefully soon-to-be boss knew that I was actually a virgin, he'd probably laugh me out the door.
How could he take me seriously for this job when I had no sexual experience? Didn’t a dancer have to have that eroticism, that knowledge of how to turn a person on in order to seduce them without even touching them?
But I knew how to dance, and I did it damn well. I didn’t have to know what a cock felt like inside of me to know how to move.
I just had to prove to him that I was good enough.
I grabbed my duffel that sat by the front door, picked up my car keys, and stared at myself in a little mirror above the foyer table.
Foyer … I could've laughed at the term I’d just used. The apartment I lived in was a dirty, run-down place that had one bedroom with a perpetual musty smell, peeling linoleum in the kitchen, and carpet in the living room that looked like it was from the seventies.
But this was home, at least until I could afford something better.
I climbed into my crappy, beat-up Honda. I haphazardly pulled up my hair and twisted it in a bun. I bobby pinned the hell out of it, smoothed my fingers under the slightly dark circles under my eyes, and tried to calm my breathing.
I didn't sit there for very long, because I knew making a good impression, even if it was for a strip club, was in my best interest.
I cranked the engine and headed down the road, not knowing how the day would go but feeling this excitement rush through me.
There was something about Cole Savage that had my blood coursing through my veins, had my palms sweating, and had my heart racing. I knew feeling this kind of arousal, this reaction to a man I didn't even know and had only met for a total of five minutes, was ridiculous.
But I also couldn't help the effect he had on my body. Ever since leaving his office, he was all I thought about. The images that flashed in my mind were filthy. The things I wanted him to do to me made me blush even though I was alone.
Stupid or not, I clung to my emotions, my arousal. I didn't want them to end, didn't want it to vanish as easily as everything else seemed to do in my life.
Although I was not broken and hadn't had a horrible childhood, I had missed out on life, on the things that I loved. Ballet was the thing I regretted the most. When your family showed their disappointment over the fact you won't be a coveted dancer, it was hard not to absorb that dark weakness that consumed you like nothing else.
But I'd done well to stay above the water, to not let it drag me down. Instead I embraced the things I did have, the things I was good at.
And right now that was to impress, and show Cole Savage what I had to offer.
Cole
I’d specifically closed the club for this moment. I wanted to watch Jana dance without any interference or distractions.
I wanted her to dance for me alone.
I led her to the back room, because even if there was nobody else at the club, I still wanted privacy. I didn't want anybody looking at her, didn't want anybody to see as she took her clothes off. That was all for me. She was mine.
Mine.
That one word had never meant so much.
She was nervous; that was clear by the way she kept twisting her fingers together, by the rapid beat of her pulse right beneath her ear. I knew she wanted to ask me why nobody else was at the club, because I could see her looking around, the confusion on her face.
I pushed open the back door, held it for her, and let her walk by me. When she passed me, I inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of floral and sugar filling my head.
I instantly got hard.
Although I knew when she was on that stage, twisting her body for me, even if she was still fully clothed, my dick would be rock-hard.
I've never felt such an intense need to claim a woman. It had been years since I took a woman into my bed. And even before then I rarely did that. Years of being celibate, of not having any desire for the opposite sex fueled my need to make my business rise.
But it had only taken
a second for me to look at Jana to know I wanted her irrevocably. I'd own every inch of her before the week was out.
Insta-love, insta-lust, whatever it was called … she would be mine.
Once we were both in the VIP only room, I shut the door, the soft click sounding deafening as the silence stretched on.
She stood there, looking at the stage, her hand tightly wrapped around the strap of her duffel bag. I walked over to one of the tables, grabbed one of the overturned chairs that was on top of it, and placed it on the floor. I sat, not speaking because I knew she was smart enough to know that I wanted this to start.
Because truth was I was so fucking ready to have her get on that stage and show me what she could do.
It only took her a few seconds before she moved toward the slightly raised stage.
The lights were already partially dimmed, the only glow shining down on the silver bar in the center of the stage. My heart was thundering, this excitement racing through me at the very thought of what I was about to see. It had only been one day since she came into my office, but since then she was all I thought about.
