Reckless Heat: Bad Boy Romance

by M. S. Parker

  He blinked, clearly caught off-guard by the stripper daring to talk to him.

  Next to me, Piety tensed.

  I continued, “I couldn’t understand it, the whole way here. Piety has been so…well, she’s amazing. I’ve seen her give her heart to people. She laughs, and she makes me laugh. She’s kind and sweet and funny and confident. And then on the way here, all that changes. Now I get it – she was worried about dealing with you.”

  He opened his mouth, but at that moment, a towering man appeared in the doorway, his bald head gleaming as if it had been polished with wax. The thought made me chuckle, and I shook my head, amused at the absurdity of it all.

  “You think this is funny?” Silas asked, the words grinding between his clenched teeth.

  “Sir, how may I be of assistance?” The giant eyed me narrowly.

  “You aren’t needed, Timothy,” Piety said. “Dad was trying to make my husband leave, but if he can’t stay, neither can I. We’re both going.”

  “Your husband…” Timothy – the giant – studied us for a moment, then nodded at Piety. “Congratulations.” Then he nodded at the elder Van Allans and left.

  “She makes me happy,” I said without thinking. For a minute, this wasn’t a scam, wasn’t anything I was doing for money. I was just seeing the rage, the disappointment, all the negative emotions in the older man’s eyes – emotions directed at Piety – and it pissed me off. “And I think I make her happy. If you love her, I don’t understand what your problem is. Unless, of course, you’re more worried about your life than hers, and that makes you the son of a bitch here.”

  A soft gasp escaped Piety at my words, and I decided I needed to stop before I said something stupid – or more stupid. Taking her hand, I lifted it to my lips. “Come on, love. Let’s go.”

  “Thank you.”

  We'd been driving in relative silence for the past ten minutes, and the soft words were loud.

  I looked over at Piety. “You’re not mad?”

  She laughed. “No. I…hell, Kaleb. There have been so many times I’ve almost said those exact same words to him.”

  “Not being related to the uptight bastard makes it easier.” Grimacing, I added, “Sorry. He just…I don’t like how he talked to you.”

  “It’s okay.” She smiled, her gaze locked on the road. “My parents love me, Kaleb. I know that. They just don’t understand me. Anyway…it went about as well as we could hope. Now we just…well, we’ve got the family reunion. Then you and I will have some massive blow-up, and we’ll call this quits so you can go on your way. I’ve got the money I promised you – half of it now, the rest after the family reunion. Okay?”

  I swallowed hard. “Sounds good.”

  “Oh, by the way…” She glanced at me. “Astra’s cousin is a lawyer. I don’t know if you’re wanting to stay over here or go back to Oz, but we can talk to him. He can help you figure things out.”

  “Brilliant.”

  But I wasn’t paying that much attention.

  In a few more days, this would all be over.

  I should have been relieved. I could focus on what really mattered. I could deal with Camry. Do what I'd come here to do.

  Yet I wasn’t relieved.

  And even though she was sitting right there next to me, I was already missing my wife.

  12

  Piety

  I checked the time.

  Again.

  It was only ten minutes later than when I’d checked the last time.

  Sighing, I dropped down onto the couch, determined to find some way to fill my mind.

  Something underneath my butt managed to preoccupy my thoughts…for maybe two seconds.

  I frowned as I pulled out a cell phone. Not mine.

  “Kaleb’s.”

  Had to be.

  I rubbed my finger along the surface of it for a moment, nibbling my lower lip. Then I put the phone down and dropped my head back to the couch. He wasn’t here, and I was slowly going out of my mind.

  Astra had indeed worked her magic and gotten him a meeting with her cousin Samuel. Whether or not anything solid would happen today, I wasn’t betting on it, but at least they could start the ball rolling.

  I’d feel better if I was with him, but Kaleb had told me there was no need for me to go. Something told me that he wanted to go alone.

  So I stayed home.

  I wasn’t hurt or anything. It wasn’t like he needed me to hold his hand, and our marriage wasn't about a green card for him. Besides, I could use a little more downtime and relaxation before heading back to work next week. I certainly wasn’t going to be getting any over the weekend.

  I snorted at the thought and tried to picture how things would go when my dad already looked like he wanted to explode just thinking about Kaleb.

  Dad had tried calling, but I’d ignored him.

  He’d even broken down and texted even though he'd always insisted that texts were so impersonal. He didn’t like emails, either, but understood they were how people communicated these days.

  But texts?

  Senator Silas Van Allen didn’t text.

  But he had sent me one earlier.

  You need to stop acting like a child and talk to me. Please join your mother and I for dinner.

  I’d responded with a simple question. And Kaleb?

  We haven’t been able to spend time with you in several weeks. We need time to catch up. He can join us some other time.

  I'd given him a simple answer.

  No thank you.

  That had set him off, and Mom had taken over from there, but I was ignoring her too.

  It was weird how freeing this was. Granted, it was all a farce, and I needed to think through how things would be after this, but for the first time, both my mother and my father had stopped trying to talk through me, stopped looking through me.

  Yes, they were angry, but I could handle that.

  I couldn’t keep handling how they spent more time worrying about how my life was going to affect theirs.

  If they were that hung up on it, they should have had a poodle instead of a daughter.

  I checked the time again without any conscious thought, then groaned. It was going to be another hour, maybe two, before he was done with Samuel.

  I was about to go out of my mind…

  The phone next to me buzzed again and I looked down at it automatically.

  A pretty girl’s picture flashed up across the screen, along with the notification that he’d gotten a message.

  “Don't do it, Piety,” I muttered to myself.

  He was a good-looking guy. He probably got messages from a lot of girls. Of course, he hadn’t told me that he was involved. I hadn’t asked.

  But…

  I'd married him, and we were having sex. It wasn't just about me, since I knew where we stood with each other. I didn't want to be the other woman. At least that was the excuse I gave myself as I swiped my thumb across the phone to unlock it.

  Her name was Camry.

  That was the first thing I noticed.

  She was also flashing a wide, open grin into the camera.

  She looked…happy. Sweet and young and happy.

  Who was she?

  The phone jolted in my hand as another message came through.

  Are you there, K? Come on…I need to know. Things are getting desperate here. You got the money or not?

  A strange, heavy sensation settled in my gut, and I closed the messages, putting the phone down.

  I knew Kaleb needed money. He’d been honest about that from the beginning. Or had he?

  Had he known who I was from moment one? Astra said she remembered how things had gone the night Kaleb and I had gotten married, but how reliable was her memory.

  Had Kaleb been playing me this whole time?

  And just who the hell was Camry?

  Married A Stripper continues in Part 2 and Part 3. CLICK HERE to download the complete 300-page story.

  Bonus 2: Twisted Affair
Vol. 1

  1

  Blayne

  My life was fuck-freaking-tastic. Seriously. I was rich and not bad on the eye, or so I’d been told. I didn't have to give a damn about responsibility or anything that even smelled like it. And none of that was in my head. It was all true.

  Chiseled good looks that women said resembled some of Hollywood's hottest. A naturally muscular build that I didn't have to spend hours at the gym maintaining. I was tall, but not freakishly so. A nice six-three. And I was more than well-proportioned, or so I'd been told. I was still a year away from thirty, no signs of gray in my sandy brown hair and no thinning. I spent all my time getting high, drinking and either watching naked women dance, or fucking them.

  Like I said, I had a fuck-freaking-tastic life.

  Case in point, I was currently in Philadelphia's hottest strip club. It was exclusive, so only people like me got in. The place was packed with the gorgeous, the rich or the famous. A lot were more than one of those things, but only a few were like me and all three. Okay, so I wasn't stop-on-the-street famous, but there were plenty of people who knew who I was, especially here.

  “Hey, Blayne,” a man called out over the music.

  I looked up and grinned as my friend held out his hand. We shook and I felt cool plastic slide against my palm. My grin widened.

  “Thanks, Neal.” I palmed the bag as I pulled back my hand. The cops didn't exactly frequent Exotica, and the club's security tended to look the other way, as long as people were discreet and no one caused problems. Every once in a while, someone would do a little too much coke, get a bit overly excited and have to be asked to leave, but most of the time, things were pretty calm.

  Me, I didn't do cocaine or any heavy shit. Pot to relax. X when I wanted to party. Tonight, I wanted to party. I'd already had a couple lap dances out in the main room, but my goal was to get a private one.

  I popped a pill into my mouth and waited for it to take effect. I turned my attention toward the stage where the newest batch of girls were coming on. Exotica only hired the best, which was one of the reasons I enjoyed coming here. These weren't tired old hags who'd been gyrating for years, picking up tricks on the side, or whatever track-marked girls they could find on the streets. Exotica's girls were in their early to mid-twenties, or at least looked it. And there was variety. Dark skin, light skin, blondes, brunettes, red-heads. Tall and skinny, short and curvy. Various combinations of body sizes. Innocent. Sultry. Wild. A little something for everyone.

  I liked it all. I didn't really have a particular type when it came to women. I enjoyed them all.

  And I was particularly enjoying one seriously hot brunette who was dancing at the front of the stage. She was tall, with gloriously long legs I wanted to feel wrapped around me. Her hair was shoulder length, perfect for grabbing during sex. And those tits. Fuck, they were gorgeous. Big and firm – there was no way they were real, but I wanted them in my hands anyway.

  “Her name's Angelique.” Another buddy of mine shouted in my ear. Tommy and I had been friends for years, mostly because I had the money and he had the connections. Whatever I was in the mood for, he could get. And none of that knock-off shit. He only worked with premium grade. Worth every penny.

  “You asking around?” I didn't take my eyes off her as she swayed, teasing the audience by exposing tanned skin one inch at a time. “Don't want to step on your toes.”

  “Naw, go ahead.” Tommy leaned back and stretched his arms out along the back of the couch where we were sitting. “Rumor has it she's a real tiger in the sack.”

  I looked over at him and he grinned at me.

  “You know me,” he continued. “I prefer the passive ones.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to Angelique as she came toward the part of the stage closest to me. I never understood Tommy's preference. While I liked to be in charge in the bedroom, I didn't get the appeal of a woman who just laid there and took it. Where was the fun in that? I mean, she didn't have to be kinky or anything, but I at least wanted a response, someone who made it clear she was enjoying herself. I may not have been the kind of guy who'd call a girl the next day, but I prided myself on my reputation that I never left a partner unsatisfied.

  I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. I usually tipped with twenties, but I wanted a private dance and hopefully more. The women who worked at Exotica weren't prostitutes, but the club didn't really enforce the 'hands off' rule if the ladies didn't complain. It was basically up to the women what they did and with whom. It wouldn't be the first time I'd headed to the back with one of the dancers.

  Angelique's top was off by the time she bent over to let me hold out the folded bill. She glanced at it and then looked at me. I raised an eyebrow in question and she nodded. And that was that. As soon as she walked off the stage at the end of her show, I stood. I was already hard and everything had that nice, fuzzy edge that came with quality X.

  “You need anything else?” Tommy asked.

  I shook my head. I still had one tablet left and if Angelique didn't want it, I'd take it later. I may have been approaching thirty, but I was far from a 'one and done' kind of guy. I was hoping to get laid at least one more time tonight.

  “You looking for a private dance?” Angelique was dressed again, if the skimpy thong and bra she was wearing could be considered dressed. Neither one seemed adequate enough to contain her considerable assets. Which, thank the fuck, was the purpose.

  “And anything else you'd be willing to provide.” I smiled at her, watching as she looked me up and down.

  “Follow me.” She walked toward the back where the private rooms were located.

  Less than five minutes later, my shirt was off, she was naked and my cock was straining against my pants. Her body writhed against mine, her ass pressing down on my pants almost hard enough to hurt.

  “Feels like you have a lot to offer,” she practically purred as she leaned back against me.

  “Oh, I do.” I slid my arms up her stomach and grabbed onto those gorgeous tits. I pulled on her pierced nipples. “And I can give you something I'll bet few clients ever have.”

  “Really?” She looked over her shoulder at me.

  “I can make you come harder than you ever have before.” I gave her my cockiest grin.

  She stood up and turned toward me. Her feet pushed at mine, nudging my legs apart. “Why do you think I agreed to come back here with you?” She dropped to her knees. “I know who you are, Blayne Westmore. You have quite the reputation. I just hope it's not all talk.”

  I gestured toward my crotch. “Why don't you find out?”

  “Condom?”

  Smart girl. I reached into my wallet and pulled out one of the several I always kept there. I had two more, just in case. I handed it to her and waited.

  She opened my pants and I raised my hips enough so that she could pull them and my underwear down enough to free the rock-hard erection I'd been sporting for a while.

  “Now that's a nice piece of work,” she said as she tore open the condom wrapper.

  “I haven't had any complaints,” I said.

  “I'll bet not,” she agreed as she wrapped one hand around the base of my cock, her fingers unable to touch until she'd slid her hand a third of the way up my length.

  “Fuckin’ yeah,” I swore as she lowered her head and used her mouth to roll the condom onto my shaft. Damn that was hot! She was hot. Her hand. Her mouth. Her confidence. She didn't waste any time either, using her hand on what she couldn't take into her mouth.

  Her hair brushed my thighs as my cock disappeared and reappeared before me. Her tongue worked around my cock and I wondered how it would feel without the latex between us. I never fucked bareback – no way was I going to risk knocking up some gold-digger or catch something that laughed at antibiotics – but I never insisted on a condom for oral. It was always the woman's choice.

  Her free hand cupped my balls and I moaned in appreciation of her talent. She really kn
ew what she was doing. When she took me as deep as she could without gagging, I gave her hair a little tug, my if-you-don’t-stop-now-I’m-going-to-come signal. If I was going to fulfill my promise and make her come, I needed her to stop right then or I was going to let her suck until I came. That would be a shame, since coming from oral when wearing a condom was pretty pointless in my opinion.

  “Now let's see if you can keep up your end of the bargain,” she said as she climbed onto my lap, facing me this time. She straddled my lap, her pussy hovering over my throbbing cock.

  I raised an eyebrow. “No foreplay? That's an awful lot to take.”

  She reached between us to firmly grasp my cock. “I'm good.”

  I wasn't going to argue, especially when she began to lower herself onto me. I grabbed her hips and she gripped my arms to steady herself. She may be on top, but I was in control. I dropped her down a little more and she moaned. Fuck, she was tight. Not as tight as I'd expected since I hadn't done any prep work, but she was still tight and hot inside. I was halfway in and held her hovering over me, waiting until I snapped my hips up, burying the rest of me inside her. She cried out, her eyelids fluttering. I began to move us together, pulling out of her even as I lifted her, then slamming her down as I moved up, driving into her hard enough to make her swear.

  “Wrap those gorgeous legs around me,” I said. I wrapped my arms around her waist and stood. She automatically latched on, arms around my neck, ankles crossing just under my ass.

  I didn't do it often, but there was something to be said for fucking standing up. Gravity was a wonderful thing. Her breasts bounced delightfully and her pussy gripped my cock as I drove into her over and over.

  “Fuck!” she screamed loud enough that I winced, but she was coming so it didn't matter. She shook in my arms and I flipped us around so she was on the couch and I was over her, slamming into her even as every cell in her convulsed.

  “On my tits,” she demanded, squeezing the glorious globes in her hands.

  That’s as good a place as any. My balls tightened – I was close. I pulled out and stripped off the condom. Her hand joined mine as I jerked off. I groaned as pleasure exploded through me, intensified by the drugs in my system. Cum spurted across her chest, coating her bronzed skin. I pumped my cock until every last drop was splashed across those magnificent breasts and then I rolled onto the couch next to her.