Cowboy 12 Pack
Page 141
Relieved to get out of the restaurant, Avery made her way back to the room. Last night was still fresh in her mind. Sleep had been a long time coming. All Avery could see when she looked around the room was Isaac. The feel of his hands on her body was impossible to forget, and the look on his face when she had given him pleasure was burned into her memory forever. Avery wanted more. Was she just kidding herself? Could Isaac ever really want her in his life? Oh, he desired her, but what hurt the most was that he didn’t want to want her. Lord, even the thought was as much of a brainteaser as it was a tongue twister. For some reason, she didn’t appeal to him. And that hurt.
After he’d left her alone, she sat down, and in typical Avery fashion had jotted down a plan. Thank goodness, she didn’t have to go to a typical nine-to-five job. Every time she thought about how wonderfully free her days were, it thrilled her. Avery had two careers that allowed her to be creative, sensual and made her a pretty decent living. Writing romance novels was fun as well as fulfilling. A tiny smile played over her lips. During the past year, she’d become a pro at promoting her books. With meticulous care, she had researched the markets and what types of books were selling and which ones weren’t as popular. It amused her that the hottest, fastest growing market was erotic romances. Before she’d felt inadequate to pen stories with explicit sex, but now she had more information and even a tad of experience to fall back on. Just thinking of the tales she could spin with Isaac as the hero and her as the heroine made goose bumps rise on her skin. Soon, she promised herself, she would concoct another story so hot it would melt her fan’s ereaders.
Sitting on the bed, she picked up the notebook where she’d detailed her game plan. Being fair to herself and Isaac, she put a time limit on her campaign. She would give it three weeks, just until the end of the month. If, by then, he was still pushing her away, she would go. The dance contest would fit perfectly within her strategy. And if her pole dance didn’t work at convincing Isaac she was perfect for him, she still had two or three more ideas to try before she gave up.
Scooting back against the headboard, she twined one of her dark ringlets around her forefinger and considered the cosmopolitan-style list. First, she intended to show Isaac that she could fit into his world. Check. It wasn’t a one-time feat, but last night was a good start, or at least a start. Second, she would try to tempt him. This would be a hard one. Avery knew she wasn’t very tempting. Hmmmm, the clothes seemed to work, but the dance would have to be her piece de resistance. Making a few notes, she thought about what she would wear and what song she would dance to. Her safest bet would be to use the same songs Destiny had used when she taught her the one and only routine she knew. Glancing at the flyer, Avery decided to call and find out exactly what was expected of a contestant. “Please, just don’t let Isaac answer the phone,” she prayed. After two rings a male voice came on the phone, “Hardbodies, May I help you?” Thank God, it wasn’t him.
“Yes, I was calling in reference to the dance contest you’re hosting in your establishment tonight.”
There was a pregnant pause, then a distinct chuckle. “All right, what would you like to know, Ma’am?”
“Should I bring a tape or CD of my song selection, or will you have some way of providing musical accompaniment for my dance number?”
“Uh, okay. What tune are you planning on performing to?”
“‘Wild One’ by Faith Hill and ‘How Do I Live With You’ by that…other girl. I can’t think of her name.”
“Trisha Yearwood and it’s ‘How Do I Live Without You’. Our band can play both of those songs.”
“Oh, okay. Do you think they can play a medley? You know, go between the two?”
“I don’t think that will be a problem. Any other questions?”
Why did this guy sound so amused? “Do I need to pay an entrance fee or register in some way?”
“No. Basically, you just show up and let us know when you arrive that you want to dance. We’ll assign you a number and you’re all set.”
That surprised Avery. “You don’t need to know my stage name?”
“Oh, I’d love to know your stage name. Tell me.”
At his tone, Avery wondered if he was making fun of her. Gee, she wished she knew how these things worked. “My stage name is, uh, Rose. The Wild Rose.” There, that sounded sexy. Didn’t it?
“Well, Miss Wild, I’ll be watching for you tonight. Good luck!” As the gentleman hung up, Avery could swear she heard him laughing. Men! She’d never understand them if she lived to be a hundred. Why couldn’t things be simple? Over the years, she’d woven this elaborate daydream scenario of her life with Isaac. In her heart, Avery had imagined them dating, getting engaged and her walking down the aisle in white satin as her Dad and Isaac waited at the altar. After that, things had gotten a bit blurry. Would they live at Tebow? Would they have a little cottage with the proverbial white picket fence? She knew there would be children, dark haired babies with beautiful blue or violet eyes. Avery even had names for them. For a boy, Austin Isaac McCoy and a girl would be named Savannah Elise McCoy. Isaac would help her take care of them and they would take them to church and attend family gatherings. Oh, it was going to be wonderful.
Screech! Halt! Avery stopped her musings. Isaac was different and she had to be different, too. That was what this seduction campaign was all about—to prove to Isaac that she could be just what he needed. Back to the plan. The third phase in her mission would be to make him jealous. Now, that would take some thought. And the last item on the agenda was to make herself scarce so he would realize he missed her, and needed her. Sighing, she admitted to herself that she had a lot of work to do. And the first order of business was a trip to the Laundromat.
*
“NOAH, I DON’T know who else to call?” Harper sounded desperate.
Noah closed his eyes and steeled himself to her pleas.
“I’ll do anything, please. Just say you’ll meet me. I only want to talk, that’s all. Just talk.”
Hanging his head, Noah debated what to do. “I can’t condone your lifestyle, Harper. BDSM is not something that I could ever be involved in. You’ve ventured out way beyond my comfort zone. What you do, what you want done to you, it just turns my stomach.” His voice betrayed his distaste, but he couldn’t hide it. “I will never understand why you crave pain. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you that.”
“I know,” she whispered thinly. “I’ll try, Noah. I’ll try to give it up, if you’ll just help me. Please, say you’ll meet with me tonight. Meet me at your brother’s bar. Nothing will go on, except conversation. I promise.”
Damn! Sadness and anger colored his thoughts. This was the woman he had built his dreams around, only to find that she’d thrown her life away in pursuit of kinky thrills and a sick desire to be tied up and whipped. “All right, Harper. But know this…I can’t be with you when you’re this way. It’s like a disease. I’ll never understand why you couldn’t be satisfied with me and what I could give you.” She’d hurt him. He was just now beginning to see a way out of the sorrow. His attraction to Skye was what he clung to now. There was life after Harper, and he didn’t want to get drawn back into the torture of watching her try to hide the whip marks and the bruises. God, she even had started cutting herself. Seeing her addicted to pain was something he abhorred. “I’ll meet you at nine at Hardbodies, but don’t count on changing my mind. As long as you’re involved in this scene, you and I are through.” He hung up before she could say anything else. Hell, he wished he had someone to talk to, but he was too ashamed to tell anyone the truth.
*
“YOU’VE BEEN BUSY.” Isaac checked the receipts and notes Levi had given him. “These are some really good ideas,” he complimented his employee.
“Tonight’s dance contest will just be the beginning. Next week we have the wet T-shirt contest, and after that the Jell-O-wrestling, the pool tournament and a games night which will consist of darts, arm wrestling and a Texas-Hold’em poke
r night.” Levi was excited. Isaac was pleased with the man. He was a good bartender. Plus, he had drive and determination, and no one could deny that the women loved his rugged good looks, and that never hurt. To top it off, he was becoming one of the finest Doms Isaac knew. Several other men had been asking to play in his dungeon, and Isaac was considering it. The only one he knew wouldn’t be joining them was Ajax; he was trouble waiting to happen.
“The mechanical bull will be here in a few days.” Levi’s comment brought Isaac back to the present, which was good. The less time he wasted thinking about Ajax the better. He was cruel, vindictive and blamed Isaac for getting thrown out of the BDSM clubs in Austin and San Antonio, and he was right. As long as Isaac had influence, a cruel Dom who mistreated his subs would be called down for their bad behavior.
“Good, I’m looking forward to trying that bull out myself.”
“Boss, you need to see this.” Doris walked into his office and laid the Kerrville Daily Times in front of him. “Everybody’s talking about it.” It took a second for Isaac’s eyes to focus on the photo and headline, but when he did he almost swallowed his tongue.
“What the hell?” Avery, his Avery, was standing in a line-up with several other women, all dolled-up in what could only be described as ‘hooker attire’. The headline read, ‘LOCAL PREACHER’S DAUGHTER JOINS A BROTHEL’. He stared, held it up close to his face and squinted, then stared some more. Was this a joke? Flashbacks of last night ran through his head, and his heart almost came to a halt as he remembered her words. ‘I can do this, I’ve been practicing.’ Practicing, be damned! She was turning tricks! Even though he was seeing it, Isaac didn’t really believe it. There had to be some other explanation. Well, there was only one way to find out. “I’ll be back.” He stood and stalked out, paper in hand, leaving Doris and Levi standing there with their mouths open.
The Harley was a blur of metal and polished chrome as he tore down the street. Speed limits were irrelevant at the moment. Besides, he was in tight with the sheriff and this was an emergency. Whipping into Avery’s motel, he bounded off his motorcycle, still clutching the newspaper. She had some explaining to do. He couldn’t imagine what was going on. But, more importantly, he needed to make sure she was all right. Rapping on the door, he waited. And waited. Damn! Just the thought of being near Avery had his dick misbehaving. ‘This isn’t a damn social call,’ he reprimanded his errant manhood. Damn! She either wasn’t answering the door or she had checked out. What if something was wrong? There was only one-way to be sure. He knew Marvin, the owner, and he’d open the door and let Isaac in to see.
A few minutes later, he stood in the motel room and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her childish suitcase still on the end of the bed. “I guess she’s just out somewhere.”
Marvin looked at him with a tired expression. “Suppose so. Do you want to leave a message?”
“No, no. I’ll check back later.” Getting back on his bike, Isaac tried to reason this out. First, there was that slip he’d made in full view of the whole town when he had kissed her on Main Street. Lord, how many times had he re-lived that moment? But that pleasure had been eclipsed forever by the hot lovin’ he had enjoyed with her last night. What was he going to do? Every time he was with Avery, he hurt her. The first time had been the night in the bar when he had humiliated her by showing her the door, then lying to her about her sex appeal. The second time they were together, he had yelled in her face before the bar fight, and last night he had pushed her on the floor right after she’d given him the best oral sex of his life. Growling his displeasure, he headed back to Hardbodies once again, having no idea how to find Avery or what he’d say to her if he did.
Thankfully, the day passed swiftly. Avery was never far from his thoughts, but he had things to do that he couldn’t put off. The article in the paper was another story. For now, as far as Isaac was concerned, it hadn’t happened. He purposely refused to think about it. His mind was numb on that topic. But everyone that came in who knew Avery or knew that he knew Avery had something to say about the piece. The whole damn thing made him furious. People had no right to gossip about something when they didn’t even know if it was true or not. Pictures could be photoshopped. Frankly, Isaac doubted the story. You couldn’t believe everything you read anymore.
When night fell, people began pouring into the bar. The band was in fine form and the liquor was flowing like a fountain. There was no sweeter sound than the cash register ringing up sale after sale. It took both him and Levi to tend the bar, and the dance contest was in full swing by the time Isaac got around to focusing on it. Women of every form and fashion were putting on a show. Biker chicks, buckle bunnies, good-time girls, and a few regular hometown girls who didn’t mind strutting their stuff. Hell, why hadn’t he thought of it before? A night like this would be damn good for business. People loved to have a good time.
“Lord God Almighty,” Levi breathed as he watched Doris announce the next number. “It’s her.”
“Everybody put their hands together and welcome Miss Wild Rose to our stage. Damn, I wish I had your hair, Honey. You’re a hottie!” The crowd was going wild.
“Don’t look, Isaac. I thought I was imagining things with that phone caller earlier, but I wasn’t. Miss Wild Rose is your Miss Prim Rose.” Joining them, Doris overheard Levi and cleared her throat. “Is that who I think it is?” She swallowed hard, an expression of disbelief on her face. “Lord, I feel like I’ve just announced the Pope would be buying the next round of drinks.”
Telling Isaac not to look was like saying sic’ em to a dog. With a run on the drums, the music the band was playing changed. Instead of just a pounding beat, it became playful and naughty. Every note screamed sex—thrusting, driving, toe-curling sex. And when the dancer came on stage, what he saw flipped his world. Isaac stepped away from the bar and moved toward the stage like a man in a trance. Her body was encased in red leather: a form-fitting little bra, a bolero jacket and the shortest, sweetest little skirt he’d ever seen. Ye, gods! If he wasn’t intimately acquainted with that treasure of a body, and if it wasn’t for those damn sexy ringlets, he would’ve never believed this scene in a million years. Avery strutted out on his stage like she was born to it. Who knew little Miss Perfect would have that kind of rhythm? The way she moved was pure poetry, a sonnet written just for him that whispered of untold delights. Hell! Maybe, what he had read in that stupid article was true. Someone had shown her the ropes. That was for sure and certain. Isaac didn’t know whether to be furious, aroused or just plain pissed.
Working his way through the crowd, he stood front and center. One idiot elbowed him, pointed down below Isaac’s belt and then at his own meager package like it was something to be proud of. Yea, he was hard. “Back off, jerk.” Pulling his shirt out of his pants to hide his burgeoning erection, Isaac felt funny. He didn’t want to be aroused, but he was. All around him were sounds: wolf calls, whistles, and varied off-color phrases were being thrown into the air. Isaac barely comprehended them. He was too focused on what was happening on the raised dais in front of him.
Avery stepped close to the edge, wearing a pair of four inch stilettos that made her legs look like a stairway to heaven. Swinging her hips from left to right, she shimmed like a harem girl and Isaac’s eyes followed every move she made like he was at a tennis match. And then…Lord Have Mercy! She started touching herself. Placing her little palms on her bare midriff, she caressed the silky, smooth skin and then let them glide downward. He heard moans and groans from the crowd, and it was all he could do to keep off the stage. His arms felt empty, his breathing was labored, and when she finally let one hand cup her mound, he almost went to his knees.
By God! He was mesmerized as her fingers teased the paradise between her legs. How did she know to do this stuff? Damn! What if it was all true? To think that other men had seen her do this, touched her, possessed her…that possibility was eating a hole in his very soul.
As she danced, Isaac knew Av
ery had every guy in the house straining their zippers. She tossed her head back, that amazing hair flowing behind her like a waterfall. Without a doubt, she was planting the idea in each man’s head that her nipples were hard, her sex was creaming and she could bring herself to orgasm any time she chose. Isaac swallowed hard and sweat began to bead on his forehead. Dozens of bikers and cowboys alike were in the same shape he was, but Avery only had eyes for him. It was as if they were the only two in the room, and their bodies were connected by an electrical arc which acted like a magnet, seeming to awaken every cell in his body and all of them were screaming out for her.
Last night, after he’d gone to bed, he’d had a devil of a time going to sleep. Several times he’d awakened, stroking himself and begging Avery to give him another sweet release. Now he was cocked and primed, locked and loaded, and it wouldn’t take much to set him off like a Roman candle. Isaac had never wanted sex as much as he did at this moment. His hips wanted to buck in time to the gyrations of her lithe, lush body. The song, ‘Wild One’ that she danced to was so damn true. This sweet baby was a good girl, a little doll who had been protected all her life from anything that could possibly taint her. Now, here she was—unbelievable, pure, unadulterated eroticism. Isaac couldn’t reconcile the two images to save his life. Before morning, he promised himself, he would have answers—come hell or high water.
Moving seductively to the music, she lifted her hair and arched her neck while every man held his breath. As one, all of their hands itched to cup those twin peaks of delight swelling up over her bra, the thin material showing clearly the outline of nipples that looked exactly like the tops of baby bottles, all plumped up and ready to be sucked. Twisting and turning, she flirted with the crowd, peeling off the little jacket and letting it drop to the floor. Gasps were heard around the room, for now she wore nothing but a tiny bra and six inches of scarlet leather, which barely covered her pinchable bottom. Only hours before, he’d held that butt in his hands and caressed her sweet spot, spreading honey all up and down her slit. How he wished he’d tasted her. How delicious she must be. But no, he’d been weak and demanded her mouth on his erection. How was a man supposed to choose between so much delicious, intoxicating bounty?