by Frankie Love
My head falls back as his hands find their way to my breasts. He rolls his thumbs over my nipples; I let out a soft groan, my core ignited. His hands haven’t even run over the length of me.
Oh, God, how I want them to.
“You like that?” he asks, his voice soft, but sure. He knows how smooth he is, and I’m so glad I’m with a master charmer, because I don’t need any more asshole men in my life. Right now I need a man who knows what a woman wants.
“I do,” I pant, not able to say anything more.
“Good.” McQueen smiles, and for a moment I don’t feel less-than because I’m a woman—like a commodity, a tradable thing. I don’t feel like I have to fight, like I have to prove something. Right here, in McQueen’s arms, I just feel beautiful.
And I can’t remember ever feeling that way before.
His hand slides down to my entrance, and I ease my body slightly, giving him access to that prized place, the place no man has ever gone before. His fingers touch my folds and every hair on my body stands on end. It’s electrifying, him touching me ... him so close to what I’ve kept locked away for so long.
“Oh, baby, you’re so tight.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
He nods and turns off the water. “The water will make it harder for me to get in. Let me get you dried off and on your back, then I’ll get your pussy nice and ready for my cock. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But I don’t want you to stop.”
“I won’t baby,” McQueen laughs. “Fuck, I can’t stop this show now, you know that.” He looks down at his hardness, and I swallow, realizing what he means.
“There’s a couch, around the corner,” I tell him.
“Shit, you got a couch in the locker room? What’s Kit running here? A hotel?”
I smile, knowing that couch has proven useful when I’ve needed to nap and didn’t want to go home right after a workout. But I can see how it might have other uses, too.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” he asks, grabbing a towel from the cart outside the shower and wrapping it around his waist, then handing me one.
“You have a condom, right?”
I see his eyebrows rise in surprise.
Crap.
Chapter Four
McQUEEN
“You’re cute, you know that?” I ask her. Do I have condom? Does she know who I am? Maybe not. “JoJo, I got us covered.”
“Okay.” JoJo nods, relief flooding her face. Oh, this girl is more than ready to get dirty with me. “It’s just, I’m not on the pill.”
“It’s okay, here, let’s dry you off.” I take a towel and run it over her shoulders, drying her off quickly. Her creamy skin is warm from the hot shower. Her long red hair hangs down her back, water dripping off the tips to make a puddle of water at her feet.
JoJo’s body would make other women crumble, and she isn’t like most women who know how attractive they are. JoJo is almost ... innocent. But I don’t know how that’s fucking possible. She gives off this sense of strength, like no one can mess with her. Like there’s no reason to even try. If she doesn’t want something, she’ll let you know.
But I swear she’s acting like she’s never had sex with a stranger.
Well, maybe she hasn’t.
Thank God she wants my cock right now, because I swear I’m never this spun up for a woman. And my hungry cock is throbbing to get inside her tight little pussy. I grab a condom from my shorts pocket; thankfully, the foil wrapper kept it dry.
“You always keep condoms in your pocket when you work out?”
“Hey, I’m an opportunist,” I tell her.
She blushes and licks her lips. Fuck, this girl likes opportunities, too.
I lift her again at the waist and her legs find their way around me, her arms wrap around my neck. She kisses my ear gingerly, then meets my eye to make sure I like it.
Oh, fuck yeah, I like it. She can slide her tongue across my body anywhere she likes.
The couch is around the corner, just like she said, and I sit down, with her in my lap. Her naked flesh sinks into me, and her soft skin keeps my cock alive and revved up.
The lights aren’t as bright back here, and it’s nothing like the guys locker room. No sweaty clothes or crusty towels litter the floor; this place is nice and tidy. But still, no frills. This is a barebones locker room, and as far as I know JoJo is the only female who works out here.
JoJo doesn’t seem like a frills girl at all. Shit, she was out in the gym kicking my ass for the better part of the day.
“So you’ve never had sex in the girl’s locker room?” she asks, pulling back to look at me.
I don’t think she knows how fucking hard it is to concentrate on her words when all I can think about is her warm body pressed tight against mine. Our noses nearly touch. God, I want to devour her.
“Never in this girl’s locker room,” I admit, smiling. “But I grew up playing football and baseball—a Midwest boy, born and raised. I’ve taken cheerleaders in a locker room plenty of times.”
“Plural? So, lots of locker room threesomes?” she asks, smirking,
“Hey, my motto is ‘the more the merrier.’”
“Will I be enough for you, then?”
“Oh, baby, you are more than enough.”
She bites her lip, hesitating, then leans in and kisses me again. Our mouths collide and create a spark that causes me to run my hands down her bare back, to her tight little ass. I squeeze her and then move my hands to her front. Her little pussy needs some attention.
I’ll give it to her.
“Should I just....” JoJo looks down at my hard cock. I nod, and she takes me in her hands. She moves up and down my shaft; her opening getting nice and wet as she touches me. Oh, hell yeah, this girl needs my cock to fill her up.
Her soft folds are nice and juicy now, and I’m glad I moved her from the shower so I can have this perfect view of her.
But I can’t wait any longer. I need her sitting in my lap properly.
I roll on the condom, and her tits move up and down as she takes in deep breaths.
“Breathe easy, baby,” I tell her. “You ever fucked a man this big before?”
“No,” she says, nearly whispering. “But, God, I want to. So bad.”
She’s nearly panting with desire, and I won’t make her wait any longer.
I lift her narrow waist, and ease her onto me. Her hand holds my thick rod, leading it into her opening.
“Oh, oh, god,” she moans softly.
“Does it hurt?” I wince. I’ve been with loads of women who are impressed with my cock. Hell, I get paid to show my package onstage, wearing a thong–and, hell no, I don’t stuff that thing. I’ve got a cock that makes women drool. But this is different.
JoJo genuinely seems to be having a hard time taking me, in a way that’s different than just needing some lube.
“It’s okay ... it’s just.” She stops, shakes her head.
“It’s what?” I ask, as she lowers herself a few inches down my cock. Oh, God, her tight pussy feels so fucking amazing.
“Nothing,” she says, adamant. “Fuck me like you would anyone else. I want it.”
I swivel my hips up, to help her onto me without force or strain. I don’t want this to be painful. She has no idea how good it’s gonna feel once she has me all the way inside her.
“I’m not gonna fuck you like anyone else, JoJo. You’re singular.”
Her eyes look worried. “This is a one-time thing, though, right. Just sex, no strings?”
“No strings,” I tell her, caught off guard a bit. Most women are dying for strings. Most women want to fucking tie my heart up with a chain and tether it to their fucking life.
I wasn’t lying when I said JoJo wasn’t like anyone else.
“Good,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Then let’s do this, McQueen. Really, really do this.”
I see that glint in her eye again, the mischievous, living-on-the-wild-side glint. A
glint I’m guessing she doesn’t let herself enjoy often, given the way she hesitates so much with me.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders, sinking into me completely, moaning as she does.
“Oh, God, yes, that’s it,” I tell her.
I hold her ass, running my hands over her cheeks as I watch her grind against me nice and slow. I love watching a woman on top of me, getting herself off nice and good, but JoJo is different.
She’s enjoying this in a way I’ve never seen before, arching her back as she experiences the fullness of me. “Mmmhhhhmmm,” she hums in my ear.
She moves around, her hips intoxicating in their slow motion. She’s taking her time, and God, it’s a sight to see.
Her tits are the perfect size for my hands. I massage them softly, pulling her hard nipple into my mouth as I feel her juice pour out from her. My cock is fucking on fire as she teases me, unknowingly, with each movement she makes against my groin.
Her body moves faster as she find a rhythm that hits her g-spot, because then it’s like her faucet is turned on. I smack her ass, just completely taken away with how she pivots her body so naturally, moving herself deeper and deeper with me in her. Her moans increase, getting louder as she nears climax.
“Oh, yeah, JoJo, that feels so fucking good,” I tell her, thrusting against her as she grabs my neck highly, freezing in mid-motion as an orgasm washes over her, her voice a deep moan, completely harmonizing with her body. She stills, and I pause too, wanting her to enjoy every moment of her release.
When she closes her eyes, I move, knowing she’ll get another wave as I thrust into her again, again, again. I come, squeezing her ass as I do.
She collapses against my chest, and I hold her there, trying to catch my breath. I swear I just had the best sex of my life, and half of that pleasure came from watching JoJo get off. She was like a mermaid, moving gracefully, her long red hair dripping all over us as we fucked. Her body moving so effortlessly, it was as if she were swimming.
JoJo
My body shakes in a perfect, oh my God, was that even real? sort of way. I get why McQueen has the reputation he has. Because whatever he just did to me was unreal. Beyond what I imagined sex could be. And I see how once would never be enough.
Although, for me, it has to be. Because my family means everything to me ... and my father is arranging my marriage.
I can’t think about that right now. Right now, McQueen is still inside of me.
“That was unreal, JoJo,” he says, as I lift myself up from his rock-hard chest, chiseled with so many muscles it makes me weak in the knees ... or actually, let’s be honest, wet between my legs.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
Deflecting keeps my head in check. I know I’m not special to McQueen; I’m a fling. But he will always be special to me ... because I gave my virginity to him.
“I don’t. Not even close. You were ... different. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Don’t try. I like thinking I was good at this,” I say, smiling. I lift myself off him and fall beside him on the couch.
I look at his hardness, where the condom is still rolled on. My heart stops for a moment as I see red blood on the latex.
His eyes follow mine, and I see a flash of concern across his eyes.
“Are you on your ... period?” he asks.
I know I’m not, not for a few weeks. That blood is the result of something else. The thing I didn’t really want to tell him, because I’m guessing he’ll feel bad for taking my virginity. And right now I want him to remember this as being something very good.
But I also don’t want to lie about my cycle because that feels weird, feels immature, even if it would get me off the hook. We just shared something intimate, and even if it was a no strings hook-up it was still something meaningful to me.
I can’t lie to McQueen. I don’t want to.
“I’m for sure not on my period.”
“Then ... are you okay?” he asks, not putting it together.
“I’m okay, it was just....” I try to tell him, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. Being a fair-skinned redhead has never worked to my favor. My true emotions are always instantly on display.
It’s as if something dawns on him. His eyebrows lift, his mouth opens lightly.
I’m glad we aren’t face to face. I don’t know why my sex-status feels embarrassing ... but it just makes it more awkward.
“JoJo, are you a virgin?”
The straightforwardness of his question causes me to snort reflexively. “I was.”
“Holy shit balls.” He stands, pulls off the condom, tosses it in the trash.
I look away, not knowing what might come next. Is he pissed at me for not telling him first? Is he grossed out by the blood?
He wraps a towel around his waist, and then hands one to me. I tuck it around myself quickly, feeling exposed. Well, my one-afternoon-stand was hot as hell until my virginal status messed it up.
But then he sits back down on the couch, and takes my hands in his, lacing my fingers in his so naturally, as if knowing this simple choice would instantly put me at ease. Which I’m sure he does know; he’s the epitome of a player.
“JoJo, why didn’t you tell me before?” His tone is soft, his face concerned.
“I didn’t think you’d be game if you knew.”
He smirks, shakes his head slightly. “Well, I’m not sure if I could have resisted, to be honest. You have no fucking clue how hot you are.”
“Shut up,” I tell him, pulling my hands away. But he grabs them back.
“JoJo, honestly, listen to me. I know this was a one-time thing, that you wanted to lose your virginity for whatever reasons you had—and, don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask. It’s none of my business, honestly. But hear me on this: you are fucking amazing, and I’m a lucky man to have been your first. Because, sweetheart, you literally nailed it.”
I know my face is red and that my chest is flushed—from both the sex and the sincerity of McQueen’s speech—but for a moment, maybe even a minute, I hear him. And I feel amazing.
I wanted to go all in with him, and I did.
I have a month, give or take, until my life changes forever, on terms that aren’t my own. But this moment right here? It’s mine. And McQueen didn’t take it away from.
In fact, he made it so much better.
Chapter Five
McQUEEN
After saying goodbye to JoJo, I get in my Jeep and head to Hearts Royalle, the new club Ace, Landon, and Jack have built. It opens in a week, and they have me headlining the first show. You know—bring in the big talent and hope the ladies are soaking their panties in excitement before I even step on stage.
It’ll be sad to say goodbye to Stripped, since it’s been the hottest male dance ticket for the last two years–but times are changing and Ace, as the owner, knows that.
Ashley Fast, Jack’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, has signed a six-month contract at the Spades Royalle, which is a perfect segue for me to start this new show here.
The new place caters to women–and what do women want when they go out in Vegas? They want men, wanting them. They want men, dancing with them. They want men, stripping for them.
I’ve never had a problem giving women what they want.
I park outside the mammoth building, where crews have been working around the clock for a month straight, ever since we returned from Landon and Claire’s wedding in England.
The space is on point for sure. The three story building itself is bright white, with pale pink trim. Inside, pink and light-grey velvet covers the interior, chandeliers dripping with crystals hang from the ceiling, and there’s soft lighting that will flatter every woman as they walk across the pink-carpeted club.
Ace’s and Landon’s wives, Emmy and Claire, along with their best friend Tess, have weighed in about every design choice. They haven’t been wrong. Everything is a woman’s wet dream ... err, fantasy. When the club opens, scantily c
lad men will run the coat check, deliver drinks, and deal at the tables.
Gambling isn’t going to be the only option here. Most women will come for the talent behind the thick curtains in the two-story dance club, called The Cockpit, where I’ll be performing.
There’s plenty of other talent for hire in The Cockpit, and I’m betting most of the action will take place in private dances held in the many VIP rooms. Think about what men do at strip clubs, and reverse it.
Women, for the first time in Vegas history, will be able to get private lap dances. And while no one is promoting anything more ... what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
“The place is looking dope, boys,” I say, announcing myself as I enter the back room of the club, where the guys are looking over several documents.
“Hey, McQueen, what’s up, man?” Ace asks, looking up.
“Just came from the gym, thought I’d see what you fuckers were up to tonight.” I sit backwards in a chair at the table where Ace, Jack, and Landon sit. “Anything on tap?”
“Emmy was talking about going to dinner tonight,” Ace says. “Not sure where, though.”
“I’m out,” Landon says. “I’m taking Sophia to ballet. She has dance Monday and Wednesday nights.”
“What the fuck, dude?” I ask. “You’re already driving taxi? Aren’t there nannies for that shit?”
Landon looks at me like I’m talking crazy. “Why would I hire someone to take Sophia to a dance class?”
“I see your game, bro,” Jack laughs, shoving Landon. “Someone is guaranteed pussy if they do daddy-duty.”
“You two assholes have no clue how good I’ve got it. A woman I love, a little girl who has my whole heart–meanwhile, what have you got? Jack’s got a pop-star girlfriend who breaks up with him every other week, and McQueen doesn’t even have that.”
I laugh. “Oh, what, now the guy with the most commitment wins? I swear to God, a few months ago it was the other way around.”
“Things change,” Ace says, shrugging. “But seriously, you should come out with Emmy and me tonight. Maybe Tess will come too.”
