by Frankie Love
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see JoJo sitting at a table with two other women.
Her eyes are wide, and for a second a wave of dread washes over me. She might not like the fact the guy she wants is up here getting a thirty-five-year-old woman off the day before her wedding.
But before the dread can be replaced with something worse, a smile breaks across JoJo’s perfect face.
And I know she likes what she sees. I swear her smile makes my cock rock hard. Seeing her happy gives me the confidence boost I need to take this show to next level.
I turn back to the woman, straddling her as my rod stands at attention between us. Knowing I own this performance, and this night.
After the show I’m backstage, getting dressed. Wanting to get to JoJo.
There’s a knock on the door and I pull it open, seeing a stage manager I’ve only met a few times.
“Dave, right?” I ask.
“Yeah. Hey, there’s a request for you in VIP Room #2.”
“Oh, really? I thought only the second-tier performers were doing that tonight?”
“I guess this is a high-end client. Put down five K for the room.”
“Fuck, really?” I shrug, knowing it’s part of this new gig. And, really, if a woman wants a five-thousand-dollar lap dance, I can give it to her. I am in the business of making people happy. “Okay, give me a minute to change again.”
“Cool.”
Dave leaves and I put on a g-string over my work out pants. My favorite lap dances are when I do the whole boy-next-door thing, in sweats and a hoodie.
A few minutes later I knock on Room #2, hoping the next fifteen minutes—which is what the rental rate is in these rooms—goes quickly. I wanna get to JoJo, badly.
“Hello,” I say, rapping on the door again before pushing it open.
Inside, the lighting is dim, and the music has a low techno beat. Jack’s latest release.
It takes me a second for my eyes to adjust, but a woman is sitting in a chair, her back to me.
“You wanna play a game?” a raspy voice asks.
A smile spreads on my face. Fuck, she’s good. I shut the door, locking it, because I know she and I are gonna be needing more than fifteen minutes.
“What game did you have in mind?” I ask, not letting on that I know exactly who has rented this room.
“It’s a game I didn’t play fairly last time,” she says, standing up and facing me, her red hair falling across her shoulders, her firm body in a skintight dress. “Truth or dare. Remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” I can’t hide my grin, and I don’t want to. I step toward her, wanting to take her in my arms. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I saw her in the audience. “You were supposed to give me a lap dance.”
“Well sit down, Ryan McQueen, and get what you’re owed.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t know the last time I’ve had a lap dance,” I tell her. “Maybe when I turned eighteen?”
“Then you’re way overdue,” she tells me, pointing to the chair.
I sit, adjusting myself as I do. Fuck, just looking at her in that tiny dress with the zipper down the front makes my cock twitch, needing to get to what’s under the fabric.
“You liked the show?” I ask as she walks around me, taunting me with the sashay of her little ass.
“I loved it.”
Her sincerity hits me in the gut. She doesn’t judge me, or want to change me. She just wants to fuck me.
And I’m gonna let her.
“What did you like most?” I ask as she sidles up to me, leaning toward me, her tits right up in my face. I press my mouth to them, kiss her soft skin, feel her tight little nipples under the taut fabric.
“I liked it when you saw me in the audience, and your cock got hard. I liked it when you pressed that woman’s hand against your cock, because I knew exactly what you were imagining.”
She takes the zipper that holds her dress together and lowers it, teasingly, revealing more skin, inch by inch.
“And what was I imagining?” I ask, breathing heavier at the strain of my hard cock in this g-string. All I want is to press myself in her little pussy and make her scream. But I’ll let her do her routine first. Because damn, it’s hot as hell.
“You were imagining me in that chair, touching you in front of everyone. You were imagining my ass in your face, you spanking me. You were imagining this.”
The zipper reaches the end of the dress, and what’s left is JoJo in a thong as substantial as dental floss and no bra.
She rips off the dress, and turns, putting her ass in my face. She moves up and down, her skin rubbing against me.
“Is touching allowed for this lap dance?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah,” she tells me, taking my hand, and running my fingers across her tummy, pressing them firmly against her perfect mound.
“I’m going to have to remove this thong, then,” I tell her.
“Yes, you are.” She faces me again, her eyes heavy with desire, and I love how she’s totally into playing the part. “You should probably do that right now.”
“A lap dance requires a little more dancing though,” I tell her, rubbing my hands over her ass, pulling her toward me.
She smiles, wrapping her hands around my neck, ruffling my hair with her fingers. She straddles me, pressing her pussy against my groin.
“Oh fuck, woman. I need you.”
“Mmhhhmm. But you just asked for a proper lap dance. I want to make my customers happy.”
“Customers? Plural?”
“What can I say? Your routine inspired me. Yesterday you asked about my long-term plans.”
“And now you want to be a stripper?”
She grinds against me, pressing her nipple in my mouth as she moves, practically begging me to come in my pants like a horny teenager.
“No, I’m teasing,” she says, stopping to look at me. “I just want to strip for you.”
JoJo
He rips off my thong with a hard tug, and then I’m pushing down his pants.
“Nice undies,” I tease, looking at the g-string with the bulge at the front accentuating his package.
“I’d say the same for you, but I just ripped them to shreds.”
“Good, because I want your cock in me so bad, baby,” I tell him, straddling him. “I’ve been ready for you all night.”
“I’ve been ready for you all fucking week,” he says, as I lower myself over his throbbing cock.
“Oh, god,” I moan, pressing him into me. He’s so hard, feels so good. Everything about his body turns me on. His ripped chest and solid biceps. His thick cock and his perfect smile. I wasn’t jealous at all as he danced on that stage.
All I felt was awe. That I had been with him. That I knew I would be with him again.
“You’re so tight, girl. You promise I’m not hurting you?”
“You’re not hurting me. You are everything.”
His hands find my waist, my hands are on his shoulders. We move in rhythm with the techno music, in rhythm with one another.
It’s like our bodies were made to piece together.
I don’t know where Grotto fits into all of this.
I can’t think about that now, can’t think about the fact Lucy is covering for me with my sister out in the club. Mary is totally clueless to the fact that I’m betraying our father with each thrust McQueen makes.
But oh, he feels so good. My belly is on fire, my body alive.
“I’m gonna come,” I tell him, wanting it all to last longer, but already knowing this sensation, this fullness is more than I should have. More than any human should ever get. Because McQueen inside of me is better than life.
The orgasm rushes over me, spreads through my thighs, reaches my toes. Sends a humming over my body that causes the walls of my pussy to pulsate at the reckless release.
And then he comes, too, shooting the seed from his cock into the condom he rolled onto himself before sliding into me. I wish hi
s condom was torn off. In this moment, all I want is all of him pressed inside of me. Just him and me, so I could really understand him. Understand what this is between us.
Because it feels real. Feels like more than a rush, than a high. More than a forbidden craving.
Being with Ryan McQueen feels like something deeper. Being with him feels like love.
A knock on the door pulls me back to reality.
A voice calls through the door. “Time’s up.”
I sigh. Our bodies are naked, pressed against one another. Sex is in the air.
“The fifteen minutes went too fast,” I tell him.
“Our night doesn’t have to end,” he says. “Let’s get dressed and keep this party going.”
I nod, wanting that so badly. As I pull the zippered dress back on, my cheeks are flushed from the thrill of this rendezvous.
“I’m here with my sister. I don’t want to raise any questions.”
“Let’s just have fun,” he says. “I’m sure that’s what your sister is looking for tonight, too, if she’s at The Cockpit.”
“True.”
We walk out of the VIP room, and McQueen takes my hand in his. Walking out into the club, I look down at our hands held together, wondering what could become of McQueen and me. Knowing what I want is more than I can have.
When I look up, I stop dead in my tracks.
All three of my brothers are standing in front of us.
Chapter Fourteen
McQUEEN
Her fingers pull from mine so fast I don’t register what’s happening until I look at her, see the fear in her eyes.
I follow her gaze, and my eyes land on three men with rolled-up shirtsleeves, loosened ties around their necks, light red hair, scruffy faces. Blazing rage written across their clenched fists and tight jaws. Fuck.
“What in God’s name are you doing here, Josephine?” one of them asks her.
“Fuck asking her questions, Paul,” another one says. “Just tell this whore what she needs to do. Where she needs to go. Josephine, you’re coming with us. Now.”
She winces, and when I look at the men again I see that they have the same penetrating eyes as her. This is her family. The family she’s spoken about in cryptic messages, in secret code. The family she won’t talk to ... because she’s terrified of how they will hold things against her.
And now they’re here, on my turf, and I won’t fucking let them get close to the woman who just rode me hard, rode me fast. The woman who sucked my cock and swallowed my come. The woman who is mine.
“Don’t fucking talk to her that way,” I tell them, stepping toward the problem. No one is coming in this club and telling JoJo she’s a whore. “You’re the ones who need to go. And now.”
Paul shakes his head. “We’re here for our sister, and she’s coming with us.”
“Did you not fucking hear me?” I ask. “You need to go.” I look over their shoulders and see Ace and Landon heading our way.
“Stop it,” JoJo says. “Don’t fight. Please. I’ll go, Paul. Just give me a second.”
I scoff at her words. “Jo, you’re not going anywhere with these assholes. They can’t talk to you like that.”
“Oh, but you can tell her what she can and can’t do?” one of the brothers asks. “No surprise there. Our little sis likes a man who’ll boss her around.” The guys laugh, and I want to throat punch them. Who the fuck do they think they are?
I mean, besides the fucking Irish mob.
“What’s going on here?” Ace says, walking up to us. In his Armani suit and slicked-back hair, he looks like an Italian prince, and I admit in my hoodie and sweats I feel a little underdressed for this throw-down. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”
“We’re here to collect our sister. Nothing more, nothing less. God knows I don’t want to be here in your pussy club.”
“My name’s Ace Royalle,” he says smoothly. “And I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Maybe there’s a reason for that,” Paul says. Dismissing Ace, he turns his eyes back to JoJo. “We’ve stood here long enough. It’s time to go. Understood?”
I watch as the girl who can throw punches, fill a ring with her grit, her fury, her fire, the girl who has spun me up in a million ways, turns her eyes to the ground.
Somehow, in a matter of minutes, her brothers have managed to extinguish her flame. And that makes me want to burn these motherfuckers down.
Thinking they won’t escalate things more in this packed club, I attempt to buy more time.
“Ace, Landon—do me a solid and find JoJo’s sister and her friend Lucy.” Looking at JoJo, I ask, “They’re in the club, right?”
“Yeah, just look for the six-foot-tall blonde,” she says.
“No, we got this,” one of the brothers says, dismissing me.
“Just let him, John,” JoJo says.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” John spits back. “You shouldn’t be here. And we’re taking you home. You have some explaining to do.”
Before they can argue any more about it, Ace claps me on the back. “We’ll be back with them. I’ll send Jack your way.”
I nod, grateful they have my back.
Turning back to the mobster brothers, I say, “JoJo doesn’t need to explain shit to you.”
“Like hell she doesn’t. Although, seeing you here, all up in her grill, tells me a few things already. Let me guess, you’re the asshole who sent her flowers tonight?”
My eyes meet JoJo’s. Does she have another fucking man in her life? Because by my count, with her father, her brothers, and me, that’s more than enough as it is.
But one look tells me she’s as confused as I am. Her eyes are filled with tears, and the fight in her is gone. She looks terrified.
Shit.
“Two dozen roses sent to the door. A male stripper and a fucking cliché,” the other brother says.
I know I can’t let this guy get under my skin, know my only job right now is to keep my girl safe.
My girl? When the fuck did that happen?
I don’t know, but for the first time in my life I’m not fighting against it. I want JoJo.
And right now I need to get a better understanding of what I’m up against.
“Did you read the card I sent with the flowers?” I ask, giving the lie a try. Trying to play it cool, play it like I have a fucking clue as to what’s going on.
“Yeah, we did,” John says. “And you’re a fucking creep, you know that?”
“Why’s that?” I ask, crossing my arms as Jack strides up to us and stands next to me, shoulder-to-shoulder.
Paul snorts. “Who takes a picture of their dick and sends it with flowers?”
Jack pulls away. “Whoa, what the fuck did I just walk into?”
Jack may not get the situation, but JoJo and I know exactly what this is about: the stalker is back.
I run my hand over my jaw, knowing I need to help JoJo out of this, and fast. I’d say it’s about time to tell these boys what happened at Kit’s Gym last week, but I have a feeling that might only make it worse. She was scared to tell them in the first place, and after meeting them I know why. I wouldn’t trust her brothers with anything, yet she’s forced to trust them with her life.
But, before I can respond, Ace and Landon are back with Lucy and JoJo’s sister, Mary.
Mary launches into a tirade. “What the fuck are you guys doing here?” I’ve never met her, but man, she’s a spitfire and her guns are blazing. “I needed a night out, but no,” she says, pushing against her brothers with her hands, looking for a fight. “No one will just let me do what I want.”
The brothers start arguing with Mary, telling her that’s she’s acting like a skank by hanging out at a strip club, and I take the opportunity to pull JoJo aside.
Ace, Landon, and Jack are on their phones, calling in backup, and with reason. These brothers are causing a scene on opening night—not the press they want. For a moment I feel like shit for bringing this here, but t
hen I look over at JoJo—her big brown eyes, her worried face, her life force draining as the scene unfolds.
“You can’t go with them,” I tell her. “Come with me tonight.”
“It’s not that easy.” JoJo looks so small all of a sudden, like she needs someone to scoop her up in their arms and take her somewhere safe. Someone like me.
“What if it was? What if it is?” I pull her into my arms and whisper in her ear. “Someone is out there, trying to get to you, Jo. I can’t stand by and watch you get hurt.”
Our heads turn as the screaming reaches an all-time high.
“Oh my God, Mary, stop screaming.” Lucy throws her hands in the air. “Seriously. What the heck is going on here? One minute I’m playing a slot machine and the next the entire O’Malley clan is up in here fighting.”
“Everything is fine, Lucy,” JoJo says. “We were just going.”
“Talk about a buzz kill. This was supposed to be our night.” She pouts, her eyes scanning Ace, Landon, Jack, and then me. “They’re worth staying for.”
“They are taken,” JoJo tells her. “But whatever, Luce. Stay if you like. I need to get home.”
“You’re seriously leaving with them?” I ask. Is it my imagination, or was her ass all up in my face twenty minutes ago? How the hell did we go from there to here so damn fast?
“Yeah, she is,” Paul tells me. “And she isn’t your girl. So you best back off.”
Ace shakes his head, warning me to step down. I know why. He’s already warned me about the trouble the O’Malley family brings. We didn’t know if or how JoJo was involved with them, but right about now it’s clear their hold on her is pretty damn tight.
It’s bullshit. Here I am, willing to go all-in for this girl, and once again she’s shrugging me off for her fucking family. It’s messing with my head, and I don’t like it.
“Just let me get my bag from the back, okay?” she tells her brothers.
“You have five minutes. Then we’re coming after you. You want a scene here?” John asks.
“Too late,” Shaking her head, she passes Lucy. She grabs my arm and I follow.
