by C. M. Lally
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - Thiago
Chapter 2 - Brooke
Chapter 3 - Brooke
Chapter 4 - Thiago
Chapter 5 - Thiago
Chapter 6 - Brooke
Chapter 7 - Thiago
Chapter 8 - Brooke
Chapter 9 - Thiago
Chapter 10 - Brooke
Chapter 11 - Thiago
Chapter 12 - Brooke
Chapter 13 - Thiago
Chapter 14 - Brooke
Epilogue - Thiago
Brazen
Miami Lust, Volume 1
CM Lally
Published by CM Lally, 2017.
Brazen
bra·zen
/ brāzən /
adjective
bold and without shame
synonyms:
bold, shameless, unashamed,
unabashed, unembarrassed
© 2017 C.M. Lally
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express consent of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations for the purpose of reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events or incidents are products of the authors imagination and used in a fictitious manger. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental or fictionalized.
Cover by: Amanda Walker PA and Design Services
Acknowledgements
There are so many people to thank I know that I’m going to forget someone, so I apologize in advance.
I really need to thank my husband and two children for letting me barricade myself away from them to write yet another book. You’ve kept life together for me, even through some very tough times this year. I love you with all my heart.
To the authors who encouraged me every day just to get the story out of me that I wanted to tell. I sincerely thank you for your friendship, your mentorship, answering my countless questions, and simply supporting me: Abby Brooks, Alison Claire, Alison Ryan, Fifi Flowers, Frankie Love, Heidi Hutchinson, K. G. Reuss, and Lyssa Cole. You are an amazing set of women and I am honored to call you my friends!
To my Cover Designer, Amanda Walker: Oh, girl! I honestly don’t know how in the world I was that lucky the day you sent me a friend request. But I am extremely thankful for whatever was in the air that day! You’ve become an amazing friend, a great source of inspiration, a mentor, and a shoulder to cry on when I fall apart with stress! I love you dear!
To the great group of women in the following Facebook groups: The A-Team, Abby’s Angels, Book Boyfriend Central, and C.M. Lally’s Wicked Playground – you are simply amazing!
I send a huge thank you to Chris Sawyer. You are always available to me for my quick “Hey, you got a second to help me” kind of messages and you always say “yes” before you know what it is that I need. I love you completely for allowing me to literally ask you anything!
To my Alpha readers: You bring sanity and glory to an otherwise chaotic and messy process. I adore you and would not be the writer I am today without your feedback! From the deepest recesses of this heart, I have so much love for you...it overflows.
And finally to my best friend, Heidi – what would I do without you? You have listened to me cry and laugh over my countless problems and you never get tired of me. You lift me up with just a simple .gif. Life would not be the same without you...how did I ever live before? (She is the most amazing woman I know!) I love you, Sunshine!
Contents
Brazen
Acknowledgements
Introduction - Thiago
Chapter 1 - Thiago
Chapter 2 - Brooke
Chapter 3 - Brooke
Chapter 4 - Thiago
Chapter 5 - Thiago
Chapter 6 - Brooke
Chapter 7 - Thiago
Chapter 8 - Brooke
Chapter 9 - Thiago
Chapter 10 - Brooke
Chapter 11 - Thiago
Chapter 12 - Brooke
Chapter 13 - Thiago
Chapter 14 - Brooke
Epilogue - Thiago
About the Author
Also by C.M. Lally
Introduction - Thiago
“Damn it Thiago. I want to hear you talk, baby. I don’t give a shit what you say, but it’d better be sexy as fuck in that voice of yours, smooth as silk,” she commands as I grip the backs of her knees tighter and fuck her harder. What the hell is her name again? Courtney? Charity? Fuck it. I push her bent legs back even further, rockin’ her pussy higher on my dick. I growl, just to give her some noise, as I push her all the way up my shaft.
“Fuck yes. Harder. Deeper. Fuck me into a sex coma, Thiago. I’ve been waiting for months to have you inside me,” she replies offhandedly.
My eyes dart up to her face as her eyes roll back in her head. She’s lost in her orgasm that I feel suctioning my cock deeper into her. Great. Fucking trapped—I didn’t need to know that. Working in this industry for as long as I have, I thought I’d have seen her working me, but apparently not. I don’t recall ever seeing her face before tonight. Too many nameless faces in the crowd.
“You know, I looked up your name. It means ‘sex god’ in Portuguese. Did you know that?” she asks.
I finish pistoning my seed into the condom and grunt loudly so she knows that I’m finished. I step back from her withdrawing my partially softened cock from her heat, and spank her ass hard once before she moves to sit up. I gently pull her up by her fingers to help balance her on the edge of the makeshift bed.
She’s beautiful with extremely long dishwater blond hair. She’s naturally sexy to me. Too bad her dirty mouth is ugly. I’ve never liked dirty talk coming from a woman. Don’t get me wrong, women that know what they want in life and bed are sensuous and sexy, but filthy words detract from a woman’s beauty.
“Yes, I did,” I admit, as she grazes her nails across my abdomen. Obviously she’s not ready to leave, but I’ve got business to take care of now that I’ve taken care of her lust.
“Well, the name befits the man and the myth,” she croons, raising her eyebrow to enhance her point. I guess she expects me to thank her for that statement, but I simply can’t. I don’t fuck for compliments.
I gather my clothes from the side armchair and turn away from her to begin to dress. She doesn’t move or speak, but continues to watch and stare like my getting dressed is a movie trailer playing for her pleasure. I glance over my shoulder at her, and she’s rubbing her clit as she watches me. She’s insatiable. Maybe I didn’t completely do my job tonight, but I don’t like to feel hunted. Oh well, there won’t be a second chance to complete the task. Business calls.
Walking back over to her, I hold out my hand for her to take it, raising her to stand. I bend down, scooping her panties off the carpet before tapping both feet to get her to lift them one by one. Her panties slide up her silky legs easily, as I graze her thighs with my thumbs. I hold out her wrap dress, like a gentleman would help a lady put her coat on, and wrap it around her—even helping cinch it at her slim waist. Easy access dresses are great for sexual beginnings and endings, especially when you want them to leave. Like now. I love simplicity.
“When can I see you again?” she asks, rubbing her hands up and down my pressed button-down shirt. I can hear the stiffness of the starch in it as her nails rake across the buttons.
“I’m the one that chooses. You’ll just have to wait and see if it works out for you again,” I say. I don’t want to hurt her but those are my ground rules. Most of the women that come to my club, know the rules. She’s gotta learn them if she wants to play my game. “I’v
e gotta get back to work. Can you see yourself out?” I point to the personal exit that leads to the back parking lot. And with those parting words, I kiss her quickly on both cheeks and walk through the door without looking back.
I head straight to my private quarters in the very back. My two brothers and I actually live here at the club—it helps with the late hours we keep. The living quarters are separated by a security door that only we have access to, and it has all been sound-proofed. I pass Krysta, the night manager on duty, and after obtaining a status of the evening so far, let her know I am done for the night.
I enter through the security door and stop to take a deep breath and enjoy the silence of the living area. My deep breath draws in the familiar scent of cheap perfume and sex. Time to wash that stench off me. I take a quick shower and re-heat my leftover lunch from the fridge before settling down for the night to unwind my mind with some TV.
My brothers and I never bring women back here. We all have private lap dance rooms that are decorated and outfitted to our personal tastes for those activities. And if I happen to not be at the club, I still fuck them hard wherever we are, and send them on their way. I’ve never slept in a bed with a woman ever. That brings that “Love” word into play, and that shit isn’t real.
My brother’s and I were raised in the sex industry in seedy New York City. Our dad was the kingpin of sex for hire in the city that never sleeps. ‘You aren’t fucking if you’re sleeping, and that means I’m not making money’ was his recited declaration of business. I believe corporate America would call that a mission statement.
Turns out, sex for hire is illegal in this country and he got busted for it. He’s doing twenty years to life up in Attica. The business I ran for him, a strip club called Kitty’s, was his only business on the up and up. No shady deals going on there, thanks to me. Someone had to look out for my brothers and our future. Unfortunately, it was confiscated by the federal government to pay for his legal fees and restitution to his victims.
We had to skip town to save face, and decided we wanted warmth with hot, tanned bodies in our lives. Dante drew the long straw, so he closed his eyes and pointed a finger to a map - Miami, Florida was our destiny. Yes, it really happened that way.
We found The Glass Stripper for sale a few days after our arrival and knew it was meant to be. That’s not her original name, but the one we choose. She was Security Bank of Miami, but we knew she had potential for something much more exciting. She’s three stories of one-way mirror with an open floor plan that’s separate from the others. She’s gorgeous and perfect. The only lady I can truly say that about. My thoughts are interrupted then there’s two quick knocks on my door in succession before Dante appears.
“You done for the night?” he asks, plopping himself down on my couch.
“Yes. Gave it all I had, and now I rest for tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I saw her heading back to your room. She wore you out, huh?” he laughs, tossing a pillow at me. “You must be getting old.”
“Fuck you,” I retort. “Just because you fuck like a jackrabbit and spill in ninety seconds doesn’t mean I do. Don’t worry—it gets better and longer with practice, little bro.”
He gets up and walks to my refrigerator, shutting it immediately in not finding anything. He starts flipping through my cabinets looking for snacks. “What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, demanding to know.
“I’m hungry. I just finished a four day review of the books, and I haven’t been to the grocery store this week. I’ve got nothing,” he whines. “Fucking feed me, man.”
“Dude, you really need to place a standing order with Luiza’s Grocery. She’ll take care of you. Fucking do it,” I command. I’m always feeding his ass. He’s been out of college for a year now, and I’m still babying him. Fuck that.
Dante is the baby of the brothers. He is also our resident accountant, or as Dad would say ‘the money man’. He’s got a brain for numbers that makes my head ache and spin. So he went to college for it. The plan was to take the businesses legit, but timing didn’t work out that way. I’m actually relieved. Dante didn’t need to know all of the dirty details of the family business.
“I’m gonna go order a pizza. You want some?” he asks before leaving.
“No. I just ate. Good night,” I say as the door closes. I turn back to watching TV.
The remote gets stuck on some documentary that I can’t change. I guess the batteries died. I’m too tired to walk over and turn it, so I just let it play. How appropriate. It’s about Prohibition in the 1920s, and how it was enforced in the large cities of America. It’s appropriate, because I’ve got a meeting scheduled with the city’s largest wine and spirits vendor tomorrow morning. I’m not looking forward to it.
James Childer has been trying to gain my business since The Glass Stripper first opened, but I’ve refused to deal with him. Rumors circle quickly...especially when it’s bad news about who does and doesn’t do business right. I was told to steer clear of him by a trusted source, and I take that shit seriously having gone through what I just did with my dad.
I know I shouldn’t keep the meeting if I’m not going to use his products, but I’m tired of hearing his whiny voice in my messages. He caught me at a weak moment—I was coming off a phenomenal blow job when my phone rang. I answered it blindly so I wouldn’t have to talk to Lydia. I finally told him, “You get one meeting. If I don’t like what I hear, you’re done calling me.” End of story. So, he’s sending his best sales guy over. I can’t wait to hear this pitch.
Chapter 1 - Thiago
Damn! I knew we set the bar area up too fast. It was thrown together in the hurried impatience of my middle brother, Mateo, to strike before the holiday rush back in December. I’ve been living with this mess for six months, and I’m at my fucking wit’s end about it.
Every morning this week I’ve come out to a note from the closing manager about broken bottles, shorted cash drawers, and a host of complaints by the bartenders. Not to mention a few scattered complaints from the higher-end patrons about how long it takes to get a drink. I’ve lost three excellent bartenders in the last few months. It’s draining my patience. This is Mateo’s issue, but it’s ended up on my desk for the General Manager to handle.
So, I’m gonna handle it. I don’t like chaos. I took on enough bullshit when I ran my father’s club in New York for everyone to know I don’t back down from a mess. I work the problem and keep working its many angles until it goes away. I twist away at it until it’s fucking tight and perfect, like a really good pussy.
Unfortunately, the whole situation in New York still ended in disaster thanks to the federal agents that raided Dad’s life. It was complete chaos, but there wasn’t anything I could do to help. He was arrested for human trafficking, drugs, extortion, money laundering, and the list gets longer as they unscrupulously pick apart his business practices. This is why I handle things right the first time. Legitimately.
We are only closed one night a week and that’s not enough time to reset three bars. I need to figure out a systematic schedule with a solid plan and work from that. In the meantime, I’ve got a meeting with the liqueur rep from Childer’s. I think Julie took him to my office, or her text that flashed on my phone said something like that. Might as well start there.
I swing open my office door, not bothering to knock, and almost trip over the carpet bar as I enter. There are two very long, lean, and luscious legs crossed and leaning towards the side of my guest office chair. Very feminine and sexy cream-colored heels with the sexy strap around the ankle are highlighting perfectly French-manicured toes. I can’t see a face yet, but who cares. Just the bottom half is enough to make my dick harden in my pants.
“Hello,” I say, closing the door for this meeting. That hello seemed to come out of my throat with a tinge of curiosity laced with sexual playfulness. I’m actually speechless and can’t say any more than that. I was expecting a man. I guess James Childer is bringing out the big guns for this pitch
, and plans on enticing me first. What a surprise. A man with no morals.
She rises from the chair and all I can see is this massive length of long blond hair cascading down her back. It’s got these wild cinnamon-colored streaks running through it, and I muster all of the control I have not to walk over and wind it up in my fist. The tip of her hair barely grazes her ass as it sways when she turns. Everything in the room becomes still as she faces me smoothing out her skirt. Large indigo eyes glimmer at me. Her eyelashes fan as she studies my face. She’s excited to be here—her eyes give her away.
“Hello. I’m Brooke with Childer’s Wine & Spirits. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, reaching forward and bracing her hands on my biceps as she reaches up and kisses both of my cheeks with her perfect cupid lips. Halfway through the first kiss I realize I’m being rude and only get the second return kiss in before she pulls away. The heat of her hands trailing down my arms causes a lust-filled shiver to run down my spine.
“I’m Thiago Solis. The pleasure is all mine,” I assure her. The words fall from my lips expectantly in general response, but the pleasure is all mine. She’s touched me twice now, and my fingers ache to grab her and show her the full extent of my pleasure.
“I’m sorry. Did I shock you with that cheek kiss? I keep forgetting I’m not in Europe anymore,” she laughs. “I need to break that habit now that I’m back on American soil.”
I ignore the bulge in my pants and walk around her, taking my time in pulling out my chair waiting for her to seat herself first. “Well, I’m not used to beautiful women kissing my cheeks. I usually offer up my lips for that, but then again the industry has jaded me to societal manners,” I explain. Her cheeks flush pink when I mention my lips. She may be a cosmopolitan woman, but she’s apparently naive. My mind wonders to her sexual status, and if she’s ever been fucked properly.
