Claiming her lips in an impassioned kiss, he set his newly freed hands to work in rubbing and massaging her sturdy shoulders; next running his magical fingers like warm water down her back as their tongues and legs entwined.
Bowing his head in a worshipful manner, Greg licked and kissed her breasts as his hands caressed her rounded stomach. He whispered tones he spoke of her beauty, and how he always wanted her by his side.
Pulling her closer than close, he pulled her to him in a binding embrace as his hips joined hers to complete their clench. Their arms and legs entangled tight as she spread her fleshy thighs before him, inviting him to come inside as her own tender hands braced and massaged his firm muscled shoulders.
Finally and with a heated gasp he sealed them as one, his long, hard shaft surging forth to the depths of her soaking wet pussy as his tongue mirrored this reverberating motion.
Kissing his wife senseless, Greg plied his warm, moist lips against hers as their hands joined between them; their hips gyrating wild together as the husband surged forth to his wife’s very core.
Wrapping her legs around his waist to draw him farther inward, Amanda sighed against his lips as waves of pure erotic sensation coursed her from head to toe; causing her heart to pound in her ears as the couple broke their kiss.
Even as he cradled her gentle in his arms, an ardent Greg continued to probe and penetrate her with a fierce intensity that stole her breath; all the while staring deep into her eyes as he whispered in a raspy growl, “I need you, Amanda. Stay with me. Please, for the love of God, just tell me that you’ll stay here with me.”
His wife said nothing, only lifted her hands to his chiseled face as he shifted his own to knead her heaving breasts; her fingers outlining and memorizing his planed cheekbones, his full lips, his planed forehead as she stared at him with unreadable eyes.
Then she seized his lips in a timeless kiss; throwing her body against his as he exploded within her, carrying them across the bounds of an incredible mutual orgasm.
The couple continued to kiss as they clung to one another, their naked, sweaty bodies reverberating with ecstasy as they collapsed in the sheets beneath them.
Hugging her to him with a broad, triumphant smile, Greg cradled Amanda in his arms as he told her, “That was amazing, baby. Surely this proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were meant to be together. Now all we have to do is build on the fire that we’ve reignited. What do you say we…”
He fell silent as his wife stepped gentle from his arms, landing on her feet on the floor before their bed, as she looked him straight in the eyes.
“Greg,” she told him, reaching for her clothes. “We need to talk.”
Bolting upright in the sheets, Greg cast his hands between them and said, “You must be joking, Amanda. Did you honestly make love to me just now, intending the entire time to dump me once we were through? Was this entire evening just your way of getting back at me for Pia?”
Amanda shook her head.
“Not at all, darling,” she assured him. “I wasn’t plotting or scheming. I was waiting.”
Dressing in quick, frantic movements, she soon stood tall and proud before her husband.
“I was waiting for you to tell me that you had no intention of leaving me for Pia this morning,” she revealed, adding in a lower tone, “And I was waiting for you to tell me that you were still in love with me.”
“Today another man gave voice to both phrases,” she revealed. “And do you know what? I think he really meant it.”
Then, with a long last look, Amanda turned away.
THE END
BARE BACK WITH THE BIKER
Bad Boy Romance
BARE BACK WITH THE BIKER
Chapter One
Tammy bumped her shoulder roughly against Stella’s shoulder as she made her way to the stage. Stella sighed but didn’t return the hateful glance thrown her way as the busty blonde took the stairs two at a time, her heels clicking audibly. Tammy’s music started playing - Chris Isaak, “Wicked Game”. It was a slow song, sure, but one the crowd out front ate up like sweet, sweet honey. The lights flickered blue as Tammy began her routine, starting with one hand on the pole, twirling slightly, the glitter on her bikini glinting and gleaming.
“Stella,” a voice called from across the room. Junior, the bartender, was standing with his arms crossed, his sizeable muscles flexing. Beside him, Candy looked like a Barbie doll, all tiny and too thin. Stella knew right away something was up from the way Candy’s skinny arms hugged around her chest, barely covered in two little purple triangles. Candy’s face was wearing a frown so deep it was visible even across the dark bar. With one more glance towards the stage, where Tammy was currently crawling towards some rowdy frat boys, she hustled towards the bar.
“Candy? What’s wrong?” Stella asked, growing more and more concerned with each step that took her closer. She could see Candy’s mascara running, her pouting lips quivering.
Still, some cold, hard part of Stella knew it was probably a much smaller deal than the brunette was making it out to be. Candy was a crybaby, pure and simple. Shit, one time Stella had watched Candy pitch a fit because one of the other girls had accidentally used the last of her glitter lotion. She thought everyone had it out for her; a noticeable coke habit made it all the worse, turned tiny slights into paranoid delusions.
Stella had thought, more than once, that she should just fire her. Stella didn’t like working with girls who rolled in red-eyed and jittery on a regular basis, and Candy caused more trouble than she was worth, in Stella’s opinion. But she just didn’t have the heart for it. That was Stella’s problem: she loved all her girls, or at least wanted what was best for them. Even that bitch Tammy, who’d rather dig a stiletto into Stella’s eye than give her the time of day.
Candy’s shaking chin jutted out and pointed toward the end of the bar. A group of bikers had taken up most of the stools at the bar, and it was to these men that Candy seemed to be directing.
“One of ‘em done said I was a li’l boy,” she said, her deep Kentucky accent made even thicker by the tears she was barely holding back. Stella raised an eyebrow. Junior was clearly trying to bite back a smile.
“What?” Stella asked, keeping a sigh of frustration from her voice.
“Said I got the body of a li’l boy, said I ought to get one of them real girls to take care of ‘em,” she huffed. Stella moved around the bar, putting one hand around the girl and rubbing her back.
“Aw, come on now, Candy,” she said, “you can’t cry over every little thing. You know you earn good money here because of that body, why are you letting some asshole get you all bent out of shape? Shit, girl, I wish I had that flat tummy. You’re plenty hot. Isn’t she, Junior?”
Stella looked up at her bartender with desperate eyes, hoping he’d keep his razor-sharp wit to himself for once. To her relief, he obliged.
“Shit, Candy, I’ve been chasing you since the day I was hired,” he said. “You’re the one who keeps turning me down, remember?”
Of course, Junior chased just about every girl on staff – pleasantly enough, never expecting anything to come of it. Still, it seemed to help Candy perk up a bit. But when she turned her face up to Stella, her self-pitying look had turned to anger.
“Ain’t you gonna kick ‘em out, Stel? For bein’ mean?”
Stella wanted to roll her eyes, but she focused all her attention on pouting back at Candy. Onstage, Tammy was upside down on the pole, her breasts now free of the bikini top. Paper bills littered the stage. The song was almost over.
“I wish I could, hon,” Stella lied. “But you know I can’t kick them out. Johnny would have my ass. And how would the other girls feel if they knew a whole bunch of viable customers got the boot on your account?”
At that, Candy’s eyes widened. Strippers could be meaner than starved dogs given the right reason. Candy could give as good as she got when feuds broke out, but she was smart enough to know it was better not to giv
e another girl a reason to hate you. She sniffled and shrugged.
“I guess you’re right,” she said, wiping at her cheeks. Stella gave her a friendly shake and squeezed her in close.
“You’re on after, Sugar,” Stella said. “Go get cleaned up and show those jerks just how sexy you are.”
With Candy fluttering away to the dressing room, Stella was left to finally release the laughter she’d been holding back, with Junior joining in. The fact was, Candy did kind of have a little boy’s figure. She was lean as an arrow, with two tiny A-cup breasts and an ass that disappeared when you looked at her from the side. But some of the club’s regulars seemed to like her, so it gave Stella another reason not to fire her, though to be frank she had no idea who’d hired her in the first place.
Stella had only been working as manager at Spanky’s for six months, and Candy had been hired by her own predecessor - a man who had all but gift-wrapped the position and handed it right over to her.
The owner, Johnny, had been very clear that he’d never hired a woman before, and didn’t outright trust Stella’s ability to manage the club, but after his last manager had gotten not one but two of his best dancers pregnant, he didn’t want to risk hiring another man. Stella’s age hadn’t worked in her favor either; at 24, she was “far too young” to know what she was doing, according to Johnny, but she’d been the only woman to apply.
And even Johnny had to admit that his original judgement of her had proved to be too hasty. Things at the club weren’t exactly one the up-and-up, but they were a far sight better than they’d been when Stella took the job. The dancers – who were infamous for quitting every week only to come back the next month when their sugar daddy failed to provide enough sugar – were sticking around more, showing up for their shifts on time, and even getting along better.
Stella’s managerial style was strict but compassionate, and the girls appreciated her empathetic way of listening to their endless gripes and needs. Well, most of the girls, anyway. There were one or two, like Tammy, who simply loathed having a woman for a boss. Stella knew that Tammy believed she should have been made manager, having worked at the club for a whopping two years – still the longest any dancer had stuck around. But Tammy also had a lot of enemies, and most of the other dancers gave her a wide berth.
Now, Stella eyed the group that had allegedly insulted Candy. She knew that Candy was likely exaggerating, and definitely needed to get a thicker skin, but Stella still didn’t like the idea of anyone pushing her girls around. When she made her way down the bar, she sized up the men. They were all big, burly men, wearing leather jackets with various patches. One that was shared by all seven men boldly declared them to be members of the Rolling Thunder MC.
She was familiar with the club; Truly, Kansas was a small town. The club operated a small dive bar on the opposite end of town from Spanky’s, on the outskirts of town, and were undoubtedly the town’s biggest importer of weed and hash. If it was being smoked in Truly, it came from Rolling Thunder. As she neared the group, several pairs of eyes fell to her. But it was one set in particular that caught Stella’s attention – along with the breath in her throat.
Shit, she thought as she got caught in the gaze of a green-eyed, brown-haired Adonis. With a cut, square jaw covered in a fine shadow and cheekbones like marble, he was strikingly handsome. She judged him to be in his early 30’s. His hair hung down over his forehead in a messy mop that just begged for her fingers to run through it.
But Stella checked herself, determined not to get her panties in a bunch over a hot guy. She’d managed to make it through most of her life without letting a man get the better of her heart or body, and she’d be damned if she was going to let it happen now.
“So,” Stella said, positioning herself in front of the group, arms spread as she braced herself against the wooden bar. “I heard you boys aren’t too fond of one of our girls here. Sweet little thing called Candy?”
She purposefully kept her eyes away from the green-eyed man, instead focusing on the cocky smiles that spread from ear to ear as the men turned to each other and then back to her. But, just Stella’s luck, it was the man she least wanted to interact with who answered her question. On the stage, Sugar had taken Tammy’s spot, and her song, some Velvet Revolver tune, filled the space.
“Send along our apologies,” he said in a voice that dripped like melted butter across the space between them. “We didn’t mean to get her all upset. Just playin’.”
Stella’s heart quickened in her chest, her eyes forced back to him. The smile on his face was begging to be slapped off…or covered in her lips. Shaking the fantasy from her head, Stella forced a smile in response.
“I know you guys,” she said coolly. “You’re the Rolling Thunder crew, right? Well, we do certainly appreciate your patronage, but I’d sure appreciate it more if you treated my girls with a little more decorum.”
One of the men hooted.
“Decorum? What the fuck is this? I thought this was a titty bar, not a fucking tea party,” cackled a grey-bearded man with a huge gut. He was sitting right next to the green-eyed man, who swiftly turned and gave him a more-than-playful punch on the shoulder. Grey beard’s eyes narrowed as he rubbed the spot, and the two men seemed engaged in a staring contest. When green eyes came out as the winner, Stella felt her heart flutter a little more. Seems she wasn’t the only one who felt his power in those eyes.
“A lady’s a lady, stripper or not,” green eyes growled before turning back to face Stella. He reached behind him and pulled out a huge wad of bills that made Stella’s eyes widen in spite of herself. He peeled off a twenty and slipped it across the bar.
“Go on and buy the sweet little thing a drink after her next dance,” he said, making eye contact once more. “She can keep the change, too.”
Stella shifted slightly, wondering what this guy’s angle was. Guys like him weren’t exactly notorious for being generous, or having much in the way of manners. But she took the twenty and pocketed it all the same.
“I’ll make sure she gets it,” Stella said, making to leave.
“I’m Tuck,” he said before she could walk away. Stella turned to him with a smile.
“Tuck? Really? Tuck like…”
“Like rhymes with fuck,” he responded, and Stella nearly shivered as the bar seemed to vaporize. In that moment, the only things that existed were his green eyes, his mouth saying fuck, and her heart beating like crazy. And the surprising tingle in her sex. She wondered if she was blushing as reality came zooming back in. She forced another smile.
“Good to know you,” she said at last.
“That’s what they tell me,” he replied quickly, flashing her a cocky smile. If she hadn’t been blushing before, she sure as hell was now.
“Right,” she said coolly, walking away down the bar once more.
“Wait,” he said, not leaning over the bar on his stool to shout after her. “I didn’t catch your name!”
Stella stopped but didn’t turn. She wondered what her name would sound like coming out of his mouth, maybe whispered into her ear as their bodies pressed together…this night was turning into a night of surprises. She never got this way around men. Better to nip it in the bud.
“Mud,” she said, flashing him a fuck-off look over her shoulder. His face crumpled slightly, then turned curious. “My name is mud.”
And with that she was gone, swallowed up into the crowd and then into the dressing room, where Sugar was just returning from her dance and Candy was preparing herself, applying yet another coat of glossy lipstick.
“Break a leg, Candy,” Stella said, ushering the girl out onto the catwalk while “I Want Candy” started booming on the speakers.
Chapter Two
The rest of Stella’s night went off without a hitch – a happy occurrence for a Friday night, which was usually when the worst of the worst was likely to happen. She managed to avoid the bikers, specifically Tuck, until they eventually shambled out sometime aft
er midnight.
As the dancers left one by one, wallets full of singles, some on the arm of a customer who caught their fancy, some on the arm of a customer who promised to empty his bank account to be with her, Stella counted the till. Junior was closing up the bar, cleaning the last empty glasses and taking inventory of what would need to be replaced.
“So those Rolling Thunder guys,” he said, flashing her a sideways smile.
“What about ‘em?” Stella asked, still feeling some tension in her stomach as she remembered Tuck’s intense stare. Junior shrugged, the smile still plastered in his face.
“One of ‘em fancied you quite a bit, Stel,” he said. She looked away from the money she’d been counting to give him a hard stare.
“So?”
“So…he happened to be the hot one,” Junior said with a shrug. “What? You got some secret man you’re going home to tonight?”
Stella laughed, a genuine laugh, with only the slightest hint of sadness to it. Everything Stella did had the slightest hint of sadness to it.
“I’m just saying,” Junior said, pulling out a plastic bag of the night’s empty bottles from underneath the bar. “You could use a little lovin’. We all could. But especially you.”
Stella snorted, returning her attention to the money in her hand.
“What makes you say that?” she asked, starting to feel a little hurt by Junior’s words. Was her loneliness that obvious?
“Because as much as these bitches moan and groan about how hard their jobs are,” Junior said, “you’re the one who gets the worst of it. I can see the knots in your shoulders from here. Need a backrub, boss?”
“Not from you, Junior,” Stella said, smiling and dropping the night’s profit into an envelope to go into the safe.
“Can’t fault me from trying,” Junior replied, hauling the clinking bag towards the recycling out back.
Back in her office, Stella put the night’s numbers into the spreadsheet, her computer so old and slow that she had to type with one finger so that it wouldn’t crash. She wished Johnny would pony up to update the club’s look and software, but times were tight and she knew that they were barely making ends meet as it was.
ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories) Page 48
