by Oakes, Tara
Clink bites his lip. “You remember the first time I gave you that rag?”
My stomach drops thinking about all the delicious things we did to each other that night. “Mmm hmmm,” is all I manage to reply.
“Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna strip you naked just like I did that night, and you’re gonna wear my leather on your back as I do to you just what I did that night. Do you remember what I did to you?”
“Mmm hmmm,” I repeat as I begin to pant.
“Very good. But this time, it’s gonna be a little different.” He whispers in my ear. “Do you know how it’s gonna be different?”
I shake my head, wanting so desperately to skip the explaining and get to the doing.
“This time, you’re gonna wear something else of mine.”
What? What’s he talking about?
I pull away to see him holding his hand closed. My heart stops. I know what’s inside. Holy shit! I didn’t see this coming in a million years.
His eyes twinkle mischievously. “Do you know what’s inside here?”
I nod, unable to make even the most basic moan that I had before.
His lip twitches in that carnal way that lets me know he’s about to be intense. I feel the hot drop of liquid trailing down my leg, soaking into my jeans.
“Do you want what’s in here, Sugar?” He asks, already knowing the answer.
I nod. He reaches down to grab hold of my ass and hikes it high to straddle him. I clutch my man in my arms and my rag in my hand as he steers us toward the bedroom.
“Good. ‘Cause tonight… tonight you’re gonna fuckin’ earn it, Sugar.”
THE END
…or is it?
When one story ends, another begins.
Continue reading for a sneak peek at a brand new
Spin-off series of the Kingsmen M.C
THE SLAYERS, MC
Book 1
FIRST RIDE
November 2015
By Tara Oakes
“Since when are bikers the good guys?
….they’re FILTHY as sin.”
CHAPTER ONE
DAWSON
“You get the delivery?”
I may be speaking to the man, the brother, Uno, as he pulls up a seat next to me… but I’m most definitely looking at the chick in front of me. She knows it, too, feeding off it, putting on a show just for me… and my cock.
“Yeah, boss. Damn Russians are getting greedy about it, too. Say they’re gonna up the price five percent for the next order. I think they can tell we need it bad.”
His one good eye settles on me.
I take a sip of the tall bottle and suck on the opening a little bit, nursing it, before arching my eyebrow and holding it up for the stripper on stage to see. I’ve banged her a time or two before, and I know this chick, Candy, is always up for a good time. Especially one that puts a little extra money in her pocket.
She drops to all fours, saunters over like a lioness in heat, never breaking eye contact with me as her hips sway to the heavy beats of the blasting music. Her perfectly fake tits hang low, jiggling with each stride until she’s in front of me on the raised platform of a stage.
Finally moving her eyes from mine, she fixes on the bottle I hold to her. She knows what I want. Her bright-red lips open wide, practically unhinging her goddamned jaw like a pro before closing around the tip of the dark amber-colored glass bottle.
Her cheeks hollow as she sucks the air in, creating a vacuum that my dick remembers all-too-well, before sliding down and mouth-fucking the beer as I watch.
My cock stirs.
Uno gasps, enjoying Candy’s demonstration of one of her many, many, talents. She’s one of our best girls, gets paid top dollar, too. I feel the hungry eyes of all the other patrons ogling her and know she’s gonna be making bank tonight, with each one of their sorry asses wanting to get a little taste of her.
“Boss, we got a problem.”
Candy doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t let our intruder break her rhythm.
“What?” I growl.
The kid hesitates, quickly picking up on why this might be a bad time to interrupt. “Uh… Tommy says he got a problem with one of the new girls. He’s gettin’ all ballsy again.”
I take the bottle back reluctantly, with a loud popping sound echoing as it leaves the tight confines of her sucking mouth.
“Here,” I hand the bottle to Uno, done with it for now.
I laugh to myself as the dozens of men perched around the perimeter of the stage do just as I’d thought they would, and wave green bills around in the air eagerly to get their own private demonstration from the naked woman on stage.
My heavy boot kicks the bottom of the double swing-door leading back to the dressing rooms, not happy that I have to intervene yet again in staff shit. I pay Tommy good money- you’d think he’d be able to do his damn job and handle this shit on his own.
I hear the loud slapping sound like a fuckin’ fire alarm, and quicken my step.
“I told you, you’re gonna go out there and shake that little ass of yours!” The balding man’s hand is still held in the air, threatening a repeat.
“What the fuck are you doin?” I feel my chest rumbling like a diesel engine at what I’ve walked in on.
The small girl standing with her hand covering her cheek is stone still, crying. I don’t recognize her, but hell, I usually can only tell these girls apart by their tits and their asses, and this girl’s not showing either of them right now.
“H-hey, Dawson,” he stammers. “The new girl says she doesn’t want to dance, says she’s changed her mind.”
“And?” I ask, shifting my eyes to scan her. The dark jeans she’s got on hug her short little legs just enough for me to tell what’s underneath the fabric is mouthwatering.
“Last I checked, we got ourselves an open door policy,” I remind the prick, although I’m gonna be reminding him of a whole lot more in a few minutes.
“She’s supposed to go on next, D. We got no one else here right now.” The washed-up snake of a man tries to justify himself.
It’s a Tuesday, one of the slower nights for business. We keep all the regular girls on a pretty tight rotation, giving most of them this night off.
A heavy breathing draws my thoughts to the petite young thing who’s finally moved. She wipes the back of her hand against her lower lip. I don’t know why it caught my attention the way it did, but I watch the plump little cushion of her mouth rebound and her long-lashed eyes widen as they spot the drop of red on the porcelain skin of her hand.
I’ve seen blood more times than most- bucket loads of it. But, the one lone drop of it smeared on the tiny woman is enough to have me seething.
I move quick, fast enough to cause the little thing next to me to jump in place as I charge the greasy-skinned man in front of me, sending him crashing into the wall.
“What did I tell you about keeping your hands to yourself, Tommy? You think I give a flyin’ fuck if I got an empty stage for a few minutes? Apologize to her.”
The only things holding him high in the air right now, suspended against the wall with his scrawny legs dangling, are my fists- fists that want desperately to pound the ever-loving shit out of him.
“I- I’m sorry, D. Really.” He’s practically pissing his pants.
“I said! Apologize to her.” My teeth are like heavy stones grinding together.
Guys like this… they get their kicks outta hitting women ‘cause they don’t have the balls to hit another man. Guys like this need to be taught a lesson, a lesson they won’t forget.
His eyes dart passed me to where I’m certain the girl hasn’t budged. “Sorry.”
“Hey, Esè!” I call back to the prospect who summoned me earlier. “Pick out the prettiest little G-string you can find. Tommy here’s gonna fill the empty time on stage.”
I feel my lips crack into a smile as I cast down the man’s sentence onto him. “And if he tries to step off that stage one fuckin’ time bef
ore his song’s over, you make sure to take him out back and show him how a real man hits.”
“D… D-- don’t get carried away, Dawson. I- I won’t ever hit another one of these sluts again, promise.” He wiggles around like a fuckin’ weasel in my grip.
I feel my eye twitch, involuntarily, hearing the word “slut” come out of his mouth and I change my mind about practicing a little self-restraint.
I pull back my right arm, my deadly arm, and wail right into his out of shape, flabby, beer gut, causing him to double over as I drop him. His gasping and retching for air is like music to my ears and I close my eyes as I savor it.
“Esè!” I call the prospect. “Get him outta my sight and up on that stage!”
The young guy moves fast, eager to please me as he grabs the scruff of the sorry sack of shit of a man and drags him away.”
I move my neck harshly to the side, cracking the joint to relieve the tension that’s built up.
“Thank you,” a soft whisper of a voice breaks the silence.
I turn, expecting her to be cowering in some corner, but she’s not. Now in front of her, I can finally get a good look. Her dirty-blonde, shoulder-length hair is pushed back, fully showcasing her bright blue eyes. They’re clear- not red and stoned like I’m used to seeing around here.
“I’m sorry about not dancing, about causing all this trouble”, she says.
I see the base of her throat constrict as she swallows hard. The sight of watching this pretty little thing’s throat closing tight, makes my cock harder than anything Candy could’ve done on that stage as I find myself wondering if this angelic little blonde’s got a gag reflex.
“Yeah… you don’t really look like the type that comes in here to dance.” I state the obvious. Her jeans may be tight around the luscious thighs I’m sizing up, but her top isn’t. The plain black shirt she’s wearing isn’t even cut low enough for me to tell if the round handful-sized mounds that sit high on her chest are real.
“I thought I could do it. I really did,” she shakes her head, disappointed in herself. “I needed to do it.”
Her reaction baffles me. I’ve never seen a chick disappointed in not becoming a stripper. Usually… it’s the other way around.
“Come again?” I arch my eyebrow.
“Sorry,” she’s quick to try to erase her last statement. “It’s not your problem.”
I don’t know what it is about her, maybe it’s the honesty behind her words, the demure way she carries herself so differently than most of the broads that walk through these doors, but it’s something.
Maybe it’s the real disappointment I see on her face as if she’s pissed at herself, clearly not used to falling short on things.
“You in some kind of trouble, darlin’?” I get the feeling there’s more to this story than just a chick not being able to fulfill some stripper fantasy.
She closes her eyes softly, shaking her head. “I’ll figure it out.”
What is it about her?
“That hurt?” I take the steps to go to her, expecting her to flinch or jump back like most people do when I get close.
She doesn’t.
She just scrunches her forehead, confused. I take my thumb and trace under the pink area forming near the corner of her mouth. Her skin is warm… so warm and inviting, so perfect.
She hisses as I touch near the wound, instinctively raising her hand to protect the cut, settling her warm, delicate, fingers over mine. Her eyes widen in shock as she feels the swelling of her lip.
“You ever been hit before?” I already know the answer, judging by her reaction.
She licks her lip, biting on the bottom one a bit. “No.”
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath waiting for her answer until after she’d given it. Good. A sweet little angel face like this has no business being touched like that.
I search her eyes, trying to find something, anything, that will help solve her mystery.
“I should go,” she whispers.
I snap my hand back. Yeah, she should go. There’s no room here for a woman like this.
“Here,” I take the wad of cash from my pocket, pulling off the money clip. I don’t count how many bills I hold out to her. It doesn’t matter… I’ve got plenty more.
“No,” she steps back and waves the money away. “I can’t. I didn’t dance. I didn’t earn it.”
A lightning strike of anger courses through me and I fear she’ll sense it, will be afraid of it. A woman like this shouldn’t have to earn her money shakin’ her shit for drooling men.
“You earned it, angel.” I don’t know where or when I came up with the name, but it suits her. Despite the bruise forming on her otherwise perfect mouth, she’s got the face of an angel. “You saved me a fuckin’ headache, did me a favor. That piece of shit’s got no business being around my staff. I’m just sorry it took him hitting you for me to realize it.”
She breathes deep, her chest rising, bringing her an inch or so closer to me and I revel in it. I see her watch the money hungrily, like it could mean a world of difference to her. I see the war raging in her eyes whether to take it or not, and most importantly, I see the pride that’s holding her back from accepting it.
I do the hard part for her and place the money in her hand, closing her fingers around it. My hand lingers, holding hers within, longer than it should.
I can feel her breathing against my chest, struggling with the decision, with the closeness. I’m struggling, too. I’m torn between wanting to fuck her raw, or throw her ass outta here so she can get as far away from me as possible before I do it.
The devil in me could ruin a perfect little angel like this. Normally, I wouldn’t think twice.
“See ya around, angel,” I whisper before leaving her speechless, getting the hell away from her before I no longer have a choice in the matter.
Part of me believes my words, hopes I’ll see her again. Part of me doesn’t. That’s the part of me that senses this chick, this angelic little thing, could douse me in fucking holy water and I’d beg for more if it meant I could look into those big blue eyes while she’s doing it.
I didn’t catch her name and it’s probably better that way. She doesn’t need a name, doesn’t need anything to make her any more real to me. I like the name I gave her, instead.
Angel.
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FIRST RIDE
Book 1 in the brand new
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tara is a thirty-something newbie author from Long Island, New York. She's a voracious reader, a passionate writer and and obsessive junk T.V. aficionado. When she's not doing one of those three things she is attempting to garden, hanging with her hubby or partaking in some retail therapy. She enjoys connecting with her readers and is having a blast entering into this new world of publishing.
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BABY V
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BOSS
THE MY SOUL TO WAKE SERIES
STAIN
ALL AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON.COM
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