Stripping Her Defenses

by Jessie Lane

  Taking one last drag off my Marlboro, I pinched the red hot cherry off the end, stomped it out with my new black leather motorcycle boot, and then stuck the leftover filter in my pocket. It was a habit I’d started to keep Kara from bitching at me for littering my cigarette butts all over the place when we’d still been together. Wasn’t it funny how a relationship could die a tragic death, but old habits were still hard to break?

  Shifting the gears of my thoughts, I moved my focus off the past and back to the strip club. Scanning over the building, I watched as a leggy, bottle blonde walked out of the alley in an outfit so tiny it should have been illegal. Her large, fake breasts were close to popping out of the thinly stretched top, and I doubted she’d be able to bend forward, three inches without flashing the whole world her ass. The logical part of my brain informed me that she was one hot woman, the perfect candidate to end the self-imposed celibacy I’d put myself through these last couple of months. My less than enthusiastic dick told me to forget about it. Nothing was happening down there, as usual.

  After eight years, you’d think I’d be a bit more enthusiastic about getting off. Unfortunately, unless liquor was involved, it was almost impossible to get hard for a woman. That didn’t even count how the emotional side of me would feel after another attempted hook up with someone who wasn’t the woman I really wanted underneath me. Sometimes, tying your heart and soul to one person seriously fucking sucked.

  The leggy blonde walked through the large double doors in the front of After Midnight that were constantly closed, as per protocol. Bouncers were stationed both on the inside and outside of those doors. And although there were dozens of large windows dotting both floors of the tall building, no one would be able to see inside because they were all mirror tinted. It allowed patrons on the inside of the club to see out; however, allowing those inside the ultimate privacy because no one on the outside of the club would be able to see in. Dec liked to call them “wdws” or “Wife Detector Windows.” He’d informed me they were the ultimate warning system for any miserable, married bastard to use in case the old ball in chain tried to sneak up on him. My opinion from that little lesson was that my brother spent entirely too much time in strip clubs.

  As the last rays of sunlight slipped below the horizon, I breathed a small sigh of relief that we’d finally be moving on to the next stage of the mission—meeting Young’s contact in the club.

  Pulling out another cigarette and lighting it, I spotted my teammate, Lucas Young, walking with Dec, slipping down one of the alleys next to the club to do some more reconnaissance. In a different neighborhood, their unusual walk around the club might seem suspicious; but, at this club, it would seem the norm.

  All three of us were wearing the leather cuts of the Regulators MC, who owned After Midnight. So three bikers walking around their own building would look like business as usual.

  Returning my focus to the front doors, I watched as a group of business men approached. One pointed to the oversized, lighted poster before making a comment that caused laughter among his colleges. The bouncer smiled at the men and opened the door for them, which they entered, allowing rowdy shouts to filter out from the club.

  Curiosity caused me to shift my gaze back to the poster. And what my eyes landed on was enough to cause my breath to catch. The woman in profile gracing it was the spitting image of some of the wilder fantasies I’d had of my wife.

  A gold mask covered the upper half of the woman’s face, making her full, pouty lips that looked to be parted on a sigh much more noticeable. Her head was thrown back as if in ecstasy, thrusting her overly large breasts, covered in a tiny bikini top, out in front. Her skin glowed in the same light natural tan with subtle red undertones that Kara had. That tan skin looked downright lick-able. I couldn’t help wondering if her nipples would be the same dusky brown color that Kara’s had been, as well.

  Instead of my wife’s shorter, sensible haircut, this beauty had long, tousled locks of dark brown hair that spilled over her shoulders and breasts, hanging all the way down till the tips were touching what I imagined were the dimples that I’d always loved above my wife’s ass. My overactive memory kicked in, reminding me of Kara’s subtle red tints, laced through her perfectly styled hair when she’d stood in the sun. Those highlights would look fucking amazing in all of that hair on the woman in the poster.

  One thing this woman was that my wife was not, was confident. She also appeared to have the wild streak Kara had never had. Which was made evident by the hint of a tiger tattoo on the top of her upper thigh right before the picture cut off her bottom half. Kara sure as hell would have never done anything as drastic as a tattoo, not that I didn’t think my wife was strong enough to take the pain. On that score, Kara was one of the strongest people I knew. She’d probably sit through a tattoo session like a champ. No, it was because of that stupid fucking June Cleaver vibe she’d tried to immolate that she would never mark up her body.

  Kara had been sweet, meek, and practical. Therefore, the long, sexy hair and tattoo were big giveaways that this wasn’t the woman I’d married. Nor would she have let herself gain enough weight to be the fuller, curvier, pin-up girl body that this dancer showed off with pride.

  As I kept staring at that picture, it made me wish I had some time with the erotically posed dancer. I hadn’t seen pink lips that pretty since before Kara had packed up and left. The similarities between the dancer on the poster and my wife were staggering, yet there were also enough differences to know there was no way in hell that could be her. While my mind would always stray to Kara, right now, for the first time since high school, it wasn’t my wife I wanted to think about. It was the mysterious stripper.

  Her whole image on the poster silently begged for me to come in and take a peek at her goods, which at the moment, I’d be happy to do. At the top of the poster, bright red words announced that ‘Kitty’ was back for one night to celebrate the club’s anniversary. The next line announced that for this special event ‘The mask was finally coming off.’ I guess it was a big deal that this chick was willing to take that mask of hers off. Funny, I wouldn’t have cared if she kept the mask on as long as she took everything else off. Slowly. While shaking those huge breasts of hers in my face. Damn, my dick hadn’t been this hard in eight long years.

  No, this voluptuous woman was not my wife at all, but perhaps she would be the first lover I could honestly lose myself in and not think about Kara. If my brother could hear my train of thoughts right now, he’d probably give me a lecture to end all lectures on how ridiculously sad it was that the first woman I actually wanted to fuck was practically the spitting image of my wife. Only seriously upgraded. Hopefully kinky, too. Perhaps I couldn’t quite be sure if this unknown stripper’s startling resemblance to my wife would help me or hurt me as I finally tried to move on with my life, but either way, for the first time in years, I was willing to find out.

  And if I was going to try to move on in the woman department, it might be a good idea to do my best not to think about my wife anymore. For multiple reasons.

  First of all, I was supposed to be here tracking down leads in the Ex Ops Team’s investigation of the black market slave trade.

  The second reason I needed to stop thinking about Kara was because I was damn tired of my brother and Grandpa Pat lecturing me. If Declan wasn’t telling me that it was time to get over the heartache and move on, Grandpa was preaching about how I needed to ‘Get my head out of my ass’ and track my wife down to work it out.

  As much as I wished I could fix things with my beautiful Kara, I’d given up hope long ago. After being divorced for eight years, I liked to think I’d moved past my warring emotions of anger, hurt, and guilt over our problems. Hell, I’d even figured out all of the mistakes I’d made during our six year marriage, which had caused me to long for that chance to go back in time and make everything right.

  When it came down to it, though, nothing would ever change. The past was the past, and the best thing I co
uld do was try to move on. Even if I’d been failing to truly do so, up until now.

  Still staring in the direction of that poster without really seeing it, every mistake I’d ever made washed over me. It wasn’t that our marriage had ever lacked love because I’d had enough love for Kara that I could, metaphorically, move mountains for her and pull the moon and stars out of the sky, and all of that other pansy ass love bullshit, if it was what she’d wished for. I’d have done anything for her, really. Or, apparently, anything other than see what was happening right in front of my own damn face, which had been the slow death of the love of a good woman. All because I had put my job before my marriage. Youthful ignorance, pride, and miles in between us too many times to count had slowly killed Kara’s love for me.

  I shook my head at the knowledge that, if I’d only stopped volunteering for missions, stopped playing the Super Navy seal, my Kara would have never started to doubt whether I truly loved her or not. Maybe then she would have never started to morph into a stranger who had taken her anxious ‘perfection’ obsession to extremes, which had inadvertently started to make me crave for time away from her. If only I’d seen that she had needed me to stay at home and help her through her fears instead of using missions for an excuse to escape the woman she was becoming. Perhaps then she would have never started to question whether I still wanted our marriage, or if I wanted to be married to the Navy more. These were things she should have never had to ask herself, especially when, at the end, she’d been round and glowing, six months pregnant with our first child.

  Finally, the most damning mistake of all. If only I’d been home where I belonged, I would have seen Kara through the hard times when she’d needed me the most. Instead, I’d abandoned her to suffer through the most agonizing time of her life with no one to even hold her hand as she cried the moment some idiot had crossed that yellow line, hitting her dead on, causing the death of our son.

  If only I’d been home, my wife would have known I needed her far more than any voluntary mission the Navy asked of me. She would have still known she was loved.

  Except, I hadn’t been home; as a result, she’d had no idea anymore that I not only still loved her, but with an intensity that she was and always would be my reason for being. A part of me. Fused in the essence of my soul. She was there in every breath I took, every beat of my broken heart, every lonely tear I’d shed, and every prayer I’d prayed since the nanosecond I’d started rushing home after the accident, only to find it empty.

  The sound of soft footfalls approaching pulled me from my thoughts. I looked away from the poster of Kitty the stripper to the two men who were now stopping next to me. It was time to get my head back in the game.

  Lucas was the first to speak. “I have to say, I think it’s rather funny that, in our personal lives, no one but Declan and, maybe, Wyatt have stepped foot in a strip club recently, but here we are, doing it for work.”

  Declan snorted in disgust. “Yeah, Bobby’s been whining for days that he’s afraid Belle’s going to cut his nuts off if she finds out that’s what we’re doing down here.”

  I grinned. “Well, if Belle were my ball and chain, I’d be worried about letting her near sharp objects for a while, too. If he’s smart, he might want to sleep with one eye open. Or maybe try to bribe her with some ice cream for those frequent pregnancy cravings she has now.”

  Lucas scoffed. “Ice cream isn’t what she craves anymore. Last time she called Bobby, before he left headquarters, she asked him to pick up a pizza.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Pizza isn’t that bad, man.”

  “It is when she dips it in ranch salad dressing.” Lucas shuddered as Dec and I screwed our faces up in distaste.

  “Enough about pregnant women with horrifying eating habits.” Because I didn’t need any more gut wrenching memories creeping in on me right now.

  With the look Dec was shooting my way right now, he knew exactly why I was changing the subject, which was just fucking great since I didn’t need anyone else’s attendance at my pity party.

  “We’re going into the club tonight to meet with Hammer. Tomorrow, we’ll come back before the club opens to talk to him about his theories, any strange occurrences, or missing girls. Try to remember, while the titties are shaking in your face, we are here for a reason, and it’s not for your visual enjoyment. Okay?” I field dressed my second cigarette, stuffing that filer in the pocket next to the first one, before moving towards the front doors of the club.

  The bouncer in the front eyed us warily. He wasn’t wearing a Regulators cut, so I assumed he wasn’t a club member. It would be interesting to find out what the Club’s President had told his employees about the incoming “new” members of the Regulators. I seriously doubted that Ice or Hammer would let them know who we were really were. The only thing that mattered was that he kept his mouth shut as we walked through the door. The second bouncer standing just inside the club door took one look at the cuts we were wearing and waved us towards the next set of double doors.

  As soon as I opened those, we were assaulted by the vibrations of bass from the loud music. It made me wonder what kind of music Kitty would be dancing to when she took her turn on the stage tonight.

  Chapter

  7

  Riley

  Stepping into the inner sanctum of After Midnight, I was bombarded by breasts. Literally. It took two point two nanoseconds before there was a stripper’s pasty covered titties rubbing against my arm. Turning my head, I gave the woman a fuck off look, but when she gave me a hopeful, sexy smile back, I realized my glower only seemed to have turned her on more. Weird. Usually, when I gave someone that glare, they hightailed it in the opposite direction.

  “Hey, baby. I haven’t seen you around the club before. Are you a newly patched member or something?”

  Jesus. This chick was practically humpin’ my leg because I was wearing biker leather? Unbelievable.

  When one of her hard nipples practically stabbed me in my arm, I looked down at her rack to make sure she didn’t have a small needle-like weapon hidden under those sparkly pasties of hers. Unfortunately, she took my perusal as encouragement.

  “If you want to blow off some steam, I could take you into one of the private rooms and wipe that frown off your face handsome. For a taste of you, I wouldn’t even charge.”

  Wasn’t it sad that my dick didn’t even twitch at that blatant invitation? She was a pretty girl with her medium length blond hair, a tight body, and sweet little breasts, but she didn’t do a damn thing for me. It was further proof my dick and heart were still married to a woman who no longer wanted them.

  As she tried to slide her hand over my stomach, roaming towards my waistband, I caught and stopped it before she could go any farther. “Appreciate the offer, honey, but I’m here on business.”

  Blondie gave me an adorable pout. “Well, after you’re done with your business, will you let me give you some pleasure?”

  Shaking my head at her persistence, I answered, “Maybe another time.”

  The stripper huffed in exasperation before turning her head towards the sound of some feminine giggling off to our left. Looking over at the sound, I found my brother with his hands full of stripper. Literally. There was a cute brunette with her legs wrapped around his waist and her tongue down his throat. Obviously, Declan didn’t have the same qualms I had. He was eagerly taking what the stripper was offering, not giving a fuck that he was standing in plain sight, making out with his hands under her mini skirt, grabbing her ass.

  Blondie left me to go stand behind Declan and started roaming her hands over his chest and whispering in his ear.

  Rolling my eyes at my brother, I glanced over to find Lucas in his own predicament. He had a redheaded stripper who kept trying to grab his junk whenever he let her hands free. Honestly, I had to laugh at the sight because there was a hardened soldier, a guy who had been through more military training and special missions than your average soldier would ever see, and he seemed to b
e completely freaked out by a chick trying to grab his junk.

  I didn’t have long to laugh at him, though, before a man walked up behind the feisty redheaded stripper mauling Lucas, grabbed her around the waist, and physically picked her up and set her aside, away from them both. When she opened her mouth to protest, the interloper, who was also wearing a Regulators’ cut, cocked one blonde eyebrow at her in a silent dare to continue. Catching the hint, she pivoted on her stiletto heel and stomped away in feminine rage.

  When the man turned back to smile at Lucas, I was able to get a better look at him. Buzzed blonde hair, a strong fit form in a black T-shirt, his cut, and jeans; he easily looked as if he could have stepped out of the military yesterday. Not exactly what I had pictured when I thought of an outlaw biker. The man held out his hand and then enveloped Lucas in a one-armed hug.

  Lucas spoke loudly to be heard over the music. “Good to see you again, Hammer.”

  “It’s been a long time, man.”

  “Hell yeah, it has. I’ve got to tell you, if I’d known that was the reception waiting for me, I might have taken you up on your offer to come back and check out the club when we got out of the Army.”

  Hammer laughed. “Fuck that, I’ve heard you fell into some interesting shit, Lucas.”

  Lucas shrugged, but gave the man a small smile. “You could say that.” Pointing back to me, he said, “This is Riley, and that fucker over there, sucking face with two of your girls, is Declan. Let’s take this conversation somewhere a little less wild before he starts fucking them in public.”

  Hammer snorted at my brother and then barked out, “Candy! Destiny! Don’t you have customers to see to?”