Bucked: Studs in Spurs, Book 2
Page 18
“To reel in that woman I told you about.”
Slade dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Just do whatever it is you usually do.”
Mustang shook his head. “The usual isn’t going to work on her.”
Slade sighed. “Where did you say she’s sitting?”
Ha! Slade had given in and was actually showing some interest. Smiling, Mustang narrowed his eyes and easily found her again in the stands. She was writing feverishly while trying to watch the rider in the arena at the same time. He tilted his head toward the section directly behind them. “Far end of the fourth row.”
“What the hell is she doing?” Slade frowned as he watched her.
“Hell if I know, but I think she’s taking notes. See what I mean? This woman is special. She isn’t going to just fall into our bed.”
Her hair wasn’t huge, she wasn’t made up like a showgirl and her clothes showed curves but not an inch of skin. She was different, which was what had drawn Mustang’s attention to her in the first place.
Since Slade had been in his strange funk lately, Mustang figured he’d try something unusual. Hell, even the two eighteen-year-olds going at each other in front of them barely got a rise out of his friend. Mustang was running out of ideas, but this woman… She was pretty much the opposite of their usual conquest and that might be exactly what they needed. It was worth a shot to cheer Slade up. Besides, never opposed to trying new things, he could use a bit of a change himself once in a while.
“Mustang, she’s probably a damned reporter. That’s all I need, to be featured in some exposé. I can see the headline now. ‘Slade Bower, third-ranking bull rider in the world, propositions reporter for a threesome with former Rookie of the Year, Mustang Jackson.’ That will go over real well with the fans in the Bible Belt.” Slade scowled at Mustang. “Pick someone else. How about the one bouncing up and down over there? She’s about to pop right out of that top. You might want to keep an eye on her.”
Mustang glanced her way. “Yeah, I saw her already. I’m set on the other one.”
Laughing, Slade shook his head. “Good luck ’cause I can just about see the stick up her ass from here. That one is wound tight, but you go for it, man, and I’ll enjoy watching you get shot down.”
Mustang raised a brow. “Is that a challenge, my friend?”
Slade let out a short laugh. “No, it’s the truth.”
“Well, I think you’re wrong. Sometimes it’s the quiet ones that are the wildest once you get them naked.”
“And you think you can get her naked?”
Mustang nodded. “Yup. I do.”
“Well, I’d like to see that.”
Grinning, Mustang slapped his friend on the back. “Don’t worry. You’ll be there too.”
Slade shook his head. “Maybe, and that is a big maybe, you might be able to get that woman naked, with enough alcohol and bull, but no frigging way will she agree to both of us. Never in a million years.”
Feeling cocky and never one to resist a challenge, Mustang crossed his arms and dug in his heels. “We’ll see. You willing to make a bet on that?”
He held the reins to her heart once—and this time he won’t let go.
The Real Deal
© 2009 Niki Green
A Wild Ride Story
Willa Tate left Millbrook, Texas, years ago—along with her future, her fiancé and her heart. Now, as one of the headlining acts at a hot burlesque club, she looks into the crowd, sees a familiar face staring up at her—and her past comes crashing back.
Chase Kiel has some hard questions for the former love of his life. He spent forever looking for her, and now he wants answers—even if he has to throw her over his shoulder and drag her back to Millbrook to get them.
He’d find it a hell of a lot easier if the chemistry weren’t still there. If they didn’t still fit together like keg of dynamite and fuse. If he didn’t want not only his answers…but her heart.
Chase is still certain he and Willa belong together—and convincing Willa of it will be his pleasure.
Warning: This title contains explicit, powder-keg-hot sex, language that ain’t fit for your mama’s ears, and a hot cowboy with a Texas-sized heart.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Real Deal:
The music began roaring its way through the speakers filling the club. Nick recognized the song. It was popular and played on nearly every radio station numerous times a day. He couldn’t remember most of the words but he knew the overall theme, someone had kissed a girl and she had seemed to like it, or so he thought. He couldn’t remember. All he could think about was the pressure his zipper was putting on his increasing erection. Never in his life was he so grateful for a table cloth.
Hayden on the other hand didn’t seem to care if his arousal was evident to the rest of the patrons or not. There he sat an elbow’s length away laid back in the opposite chair, beer bottle lifted halfway to his mouth, eyes roving over the eye candy moving before the crowd. Nick shook his head at his captivated brother and returned his undivided attention to the stage and to the ones who occupied it.
After the first few beats introduced the song a throaty, ultra feminine voice rang out the lyrics that propelled the dancers along. Each movement from the two was synchronized. What one did, the other mimicked.
They moved with the beat of the music, at first only watching each other through the faux mirror in front of them. Black fishnet gloves traced an eyebrow and moved seductively to the sets of cherry-red lips. Material ran gracefully and without pause over the glistening pair. Their fingertips stroked the top first, then bottom and then back to the top before blowing a kiss to one another via the mirror.
Without faltering, breaking their timing or rhythm, the pair removed the gloves slowly and let them fly into the crowd. With bare hands placed on the vanity top, the dancers rose and inched closer to each other, inspecting the reflection that should have been there. Closer and closer the pair drew to each other until only a breath separated them from each other.
When the crescendo proclaimed that the chorus had arrived the two stepped away from the prop and twirled and stomped their way around the stage. Each and every step they took was determined and full of intent—the intent being to arouse and seduce every man at their feet.
Little black pleated skirts barely reached the top of the thigh. Nick swallowed numerous times as he watched them both move closer and closer. Black garters ran the length of each leg, connecting the striped, sheer stockings under the skirt. Connected them to what, Nick wondered and then realized he didn’t care.
His knowledge of lingerie ran as far as the occasional Victoria Secret catalog placed in their mailbox by mistake. Those were good months.
Stiletto boots sheathed the long, trim legs that descended the stairs in time with the music. Those black patent encasements laced all the way to the knee looked both sexy and dangerous at the same time. An image of the dancer in nothing but the boots flashed before Nick’s eyes and he felt his cock jump beneath his zipper. If this was any clue as to how the rest of the night was going to continue, he was in for a few hours of heaven and hell, either one welcome.
As the two made their way to their respective side of the stage, Nick was grateful they’d found an open seat near the stage. The long-legged, raven-haired goddess, with the fuck-me mouth, fuck-me eyes, fuck-me everything was right on top of them. Nick found that the garters connected underneath a pair of ruffled, red boy shorts that barely covered the firm little bottom peeking out from beneath the skirt.
Nick watched her transfixed. She swayed, dipped and thrust to the beat as did the dancer behind her. He noticed that even though their backs were to each other the synchronization never ended.
He held his breath as she ran her hands down the front of the tight bustier top, releasing each clasp one by one on her way back to the top. Holding the top together with both hands she teased to the right of Nick’s seat and then to the left only revealing a flash of caramel torso
here and a hint of round breast there.
In the next instant, both dancers crouched down balancing on the stiletto heels of their boots and exposed what the red camisole has concealed. Covering most of the breast and the entire nipple was a red pasty shaped like a pair of lips. And they were right in Nick Kiel’s face. He thought at that moment he could die a happy man. And in the next second wished he was a dead man. Then the realization came that he may in fact be a dead man come morning.
“Holy shit!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Even with the music blaring, the crowd’s screams and Hayden whistling, she heard him. Her midnight bob swiveled toward him and those eyes her bangs tried to hide met his. Her mouth gaped open, her hands pulled the sides of the bustier together and she repeated his sentiment, “Holy shit.”
Her voice was low and strangled and jumped a little. She kept staring at him. Nick wished he could disappear, and from the look on her face she wished the same thing. He felt Hayden’s hands grasp his shoulders and shake him a bit. He couldn’t pay attention to his brother. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
His brother must have realized, finally, that he was the only one at the table for two who was still enjoying themselves. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Hayden’s face sober a bit and then turn toward where his brother gazed.
Never having much tact and lacking the filter that most people had between their brains and their mouths, Hayden’s exclamation was louder and higher pitched than either brother would have liked, “Holy fucking shit!”
Nick saw the girl jerk her eyes from brother to brother. She paled more, if it was possible. She risked a quick peek back at Nick and then inch by inch rose from her crouched, exposed position on the stage to her full height. Nick would pay for his next thought soon enough, but all he could think about was her encased legs, that seemed miles and miles long, wrapped tightly around his waist, clenching her to him. Those dewy, painted lips, even though set firm and unsmiling now, held promises of deep kisses that would run the length of a man’s body over and over again. Yep, he was going to hell.
Quickly and with style, she turned on the stiletto heel and made her way, with her partner, back to where the whole thing had started. The lights dimmed once more, a cheer resounded and yells for more filled the area.
The only thing Nick heard was the sound of his own heartbeat and the rush of his blood from his jeans back to his head where it belonged. It took a minute. Hayden’s words finally busted their way through Nick’s frantic thoughts and he turned in his seat.
“Tell me that was not who I think it was. Tell me this is all some fucked up nightmare and we both are going to wake up any minute. Tell me. Lie to me if you have to. I can take it.” Watching Hayden down the contents of the three beer bottles on the table made Nick’s throat drier than it already was. He swallowed a few times and then made the decision to tell his brother, “You’re right about one thing.”
“What’s that?” Hayden asked as he wiped his arm across his mouth.
“We’re in a fucking nightmare.”
“No shit.” Hayden chuckled a bit but there was nothing funny about the situation. Nick knew that the wry laugh was Hayden’s way of showing that he was nervous, and he had good reason to be. “What are we gonna do now?”
Nick shook his head. He didn’t know what to do. She’d seen them. They’d seen her. There was no changing that.
“It was her, right? I mean,” Hayden pulled his seat closer to his brother’s and rested his arms on his thighs, whispering, as if anyone could hear him, “my brain didn’t just make that up, did it?”
“No, that was her all right. Every last inch of her.” Shit, he thought. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
“Well shit!” Hayden said, throwing his hands over his head in frustration and what looked like defeat.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Willa?” Hayden inquired.
“Willa.” Nodding his head and studying the table top, Nick Kiel gave his brother the one conformation in the world he did not want.
“Willa.” As her name passed his lips, Hayden let his head drop to the table with a resounding thud. Nick glanced at him and felt the need to do the same. Who knew? Who knew that a simple, harmless night of beer, half-naked women and good-natured fun could turn into hell on Earth? It was just their luck.
Nick rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, rolled them back to his brother, who still had not lifted his head and then rolled them back into his head and closed his eyes.
I should have stayed at home, Nick chanted silently to himself over and over again. But he hadn’t, and now he was screwed like nobody’s business.
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