Linc (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 3)

by Hart, Lane

  Finally opening my eyes, I'm glad to know the room has only a soft, warm glow to it instead of high beams to brightly illuminate the private parts of my body that strangers shouldn't get to see. There's been less than a handful of men to ever look at every inch of me, and I was nervous those few times even though it was a decision I voluntarily made. I barely resist slamming my forehead against the wood in front of me for putting myself in this situation. No, my sister put me in this situation. And because I love her, I will suck it up and do this to get her a thousand dollars closer to freedom. At least there's only one man in this room, and regardless of how atrocious the rich fucker is, it will all be over in thirty minutes. Besides, it's not like he can touch me. He can only look. At my private parts. For thirty. Freaking. Minutes.

  Finally squaring my shoulders, I force myself to turn around and face the music before I hyperventilate and pass out. My eyes widen, accompanied by an audible gasp of pleasant surprise when I see who has been quietly occupying the majority of the small, plum colored loveseat the whole time I was having a mini-breakdown.

  Instead of an old, dirty bastard there's this...incredibly gorgeous, blue-eyed, blond man staring back at me with an excited, Colgate smile on his young face. His tight-fitting, black tee with some sort of red logo in the center accentuates what has to be rippling muscles underneath the soft cotton, leaving thick boulder-like biceps peeking out of the short sleeves. I can't help but cringe in sympathy when I notice the brace wrapped around his left elbow like he's recently been injured. His long, jean-clad legs are stretched out wide in front of him, hinting at quite a bit of height on his impressive frame.

  Holy shit, I just hit the fucking jackpot! Panty-wetting hot and rich? This guy is too good to be true. What had James said this guy did for a living?

  "Hey...I mean, um, hi," the beautiful man stammers with the hint of a slow, southern drawl, rubbing a hand nervously along the back of his neck. The fact that he doesn't immediately come across as cocky and arrogant because he's wealthy and extremely handsome only makes him more endearing.

  "Hi," I repeat softly, unable to resist reciprocating his smile.

  "You are...wow...absolutely stunning in person," he says while his eyes devour me. If it was any other man in this building, I would feel cheap or dirty by their sensual stare. Instead, he's looking at me with a reverence I don't deserve, yet I know I'll never forget, even in a million years from now. Just seconds earlier I was practically in tears, hating myself for hitting this all new low point in my life, and now here he is, looking at me like I'm a goddess who just fell from the heavens.

  "I know you probably hear it all the time, but I'm a huge fan."

  Fuck a duck.

  My face falls at the unfortunate reminder that he is, of course, here to see my sister, the porn star, and not me, the waitress. Stupid, silly girl.

  "So you've...seen my films?" I ask, unable to prevent my annoyed tone. I cross my arms over my mostly bare chest and watch my fictional white knight ride off into the sunset without me. I knew he was too good to be true; probably into all sorts of kinky shit like whips and chains and double penetration. Those thoughts should repulse me, not cause a tingling sensation to ignite in my lower belly.

  "Uh-huh. Own all ten of your movies," he responds, shifting in his seat, smoothing his jeans over his thighs like he's uncomfortable with my scrutiny. Or making room for his expanding erection. Mmm, surprisingly enough, I kind of hope it's the latter. My breasts suddenly thrust themselves out into space a little farther, all on their own volition. I swear I had absolutely nothing to do with such a trampy little move.

  "Oh really? What's your favorite one?" I ask curiously, resting my hands on my hips with one cocked, trying to provoke him further.

  An adorable, red hue immediately stains his fair cheeks. "Um, I guess, ah, the naughty schoolgirl scene, you know, in Bend Over, Bad Girl?"

  Of course I've never watched my sister's films, because that's just ew, but I can guess from the title and his description that there's likely a scene with her wearing a pleated skirt, tight dress shirt, and knee high socks with her hair done up in braids. And it doesn’t take a genius to imagine she gets spanked and fucked by a pretend principal or teacher in some sort of classroom setting.

  I'm shocked and somewhat thrown off balance when the image of myself in a schoolgirl uniform, bent over a desk while this man does those two naughty things to me causes an unexpected flood of arousal to my lady parts.

  Suddenly I remember that the thin bikini top I'm wearing doesn't have much material to cover my nipples when they tighten, and I'm worried that the wetness between my legs will soon be noticeable. Ugh. What the hell is wrong with me? I try to remind myself that this guy is no different than all the other nasty perverts jam packed in here tonight. Ones that beat their meat while watching my sister get screwed by dudes with big dicks on camera. But this guy, though? God, he is so damn hot that he can actually get away with a lot of perviness, including owning all of my sister’s videos and paying for a private lap dance with her.

  “So you must be a really big fan to pay so much for a lap dance.” I state the obvious, but it comes out sounding naughty.

  “You have no idea,” he replies deep and husky. I’m almost certain he’s referring to not only his excessive fandom but also the size of his cock.

  If Mandy were here, and able to stand on her own two feet, she would have jumped on him already and be well on her way to eating this sweet, southern fan of hers alive. Instead, he gets me; her timid, awkward and inexperienced sister as her stand-in. While I may be far from comfortable in this awkward situation, I'm suddenly glad that it's me and not Mandy who gets to be up close and personal with this guy. I love my sister and I'm constantly trying to protect her from her own demons. But tonight, for the first time in my life, I'm relieved that this sweet man will never become one of the short-lived, monetary pit stops on Mandy's reckless, bumpy ride down the never-ending highway to hell. Also known as her addiction to cocaine.

  While at first I was apprehensive about doing this type of slutty thing with a stranger, now I'm more than ready to give him what he wants, and have a little fun of my own while I'm at it. In fact, I'm really looking forward to seeing just how happy I, straight-laced Claire, can make his lap. I guess I need to be the one who makes the first move here, and be more...assertive, like I know what the fuck I'm doing.

  Would it be inappropriate to ask him to take off his clothes, too? Or at least his shirt, so I can see if his chest and abs are as fit and muscular as I'm betting they are underneath the snug, black fabric?

  “It's not fair that I have to stand here in practically nothing while you get to sit back, looking mouthwateringly edible with all of your clothes on,” I tell him. His eyes widen, and I’m not sure who is more surprised by my statement, me or him. Oh my God. Did I seriously just tell him he’s mouthwateringly edible?

  He seems to recover first, flashing me a grin before he says, “You’re right. That’s not fair at all. What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

  “Um, well, the least you can do is take your shirt off.”

  “You want me to take my shirt off?” he repeats slowly, just to make me own up to my request again.

  Fine, I can push my pride aside and ask for what I want. I mean really, I’ve already worn a freaking thong out in public tonight. My pride is long gone. “Yes.”

  He stands up and starts to lifts the hem of his shirt. When it clears his head I realize I’ve lost my damn mind. Are they releasing some sort of nympho aphrodisiac through the freaking air vents in this place? That must be it, because there's no other explanation for why I'm trying to figure out how to get naked with a stranger when moments before I was ready to make a run for it. Another explanation is that my sanity has suddenly been replaced with eight months’ worth of pent-up hornyness.

  And lord have mercy, his lean, chiseled torso is even sexier than I imagined. My eyes drop from his broad chest to either a six or eight pa
ck of abs. I lose count, because with the way his jeans are hanging low on his hips without a belt to keep them up I’m struck dumb by two amazing pelvic indentions that plunge temptingly into his waistband.

  “Wow.” I think something of the sort tumbles out of my gaping mouth.

  The throbbing sensation going on in my thong bikini bottoms is making me desperate for a little more pressure or friction. Pressing my thighs tightly together isn't doing shit but intensifying the sensation. I need...I need my magical blue bullet or...even better, a man who actually knows what to do with his fingers, tongue or cock, preferably all three. The gorgeous man still standing there ogling every inch of me not only looks capable of easily accomplishing the trifecta, but despite his initial shyness at meeting me, his blue eyes hold a heated confidence that says Oh, baby, (cause that’s always been my favorite term of endearment for whatever reason), hold on to your titties, because I’m about to make you scream with a record-breaking finish. Yeah, in my fantasy he’ll also be a dirty talker, but I think I’d like a little of that cockiness in the bedroom. Okay, fine, I want him to burn my ears off with filth while he rocks my world.

  It's a good thing he can't touch me because I’m so close to coming that if I sit down too hard I'll have a spontaneous orgasm. How freaking embarrassing would that be? Either way, I've wasted enough time. I need to do what I came in here to do, and try not to make an even bigger fool of myself. I dig deep to find a little of my confidence and any long buried seduction techniques I have inside me as I take a step closer to the sexy southern gentleman. He retakes his seat, slouching on the sofa while his eyes blaze with heated interest.

  "So, is this the part where I'm supposed to climb up on your lap?" I ask, combing my fingers through my hair for effect. I'm pleased when my words actually come out sounding a little sultry.

  "Hell yes." He answers gruffly with an even bigger grin. "And that was hands down the best question of my entire life."

  …

  Linc

  Goddammit. I'm gettin' hard and Eve Kelly hasn't even touched me yet. She's just standin’ in front of me like the most erotic wet dream come true. Even more stunnin’ in person than on camera, her chestnut hair is beautiful and bouncy, her eyes lighter than the Carolina blue sky, wearin’ this itty bitty top that only covers her nipples that are beaded, and skimpy bottoms that cover her pussy lips and...that's it. Still, I need to see all of her in the flesh, or I think I might die.

  Especially now that I'm thinkin’ about that scene, the one with her pleated skirt flipped over her lower back, amazin’ round ass stickin’ out while some man smacks it with a ruler, fucks her over his desk, and then makes her get on her knees to finish him off with her mouth. God, that mouth. Those thick red lips were made for kissin’. And, of course, cock suckin’.

  "Get naked first." Those three very unexpected words actually come out of my mouth in a deep command I don't even recognize as my own.

  "W-what?" she stutters. If I'm not mistaken, she even blushes like this is all new to her and she doesn't fuck men for a livin’.

  "Naked,” I repeat, but she doesn’t make a move. Starin’ at the cock teasin’ fabric doesn’t make it disappear, either. “Come on, baby. I’m dyin’ to see you." I'm so turned on that I can only speak in one or two-word caveman syllables.

  I would almost swear that her hand trembles when she pulls the string tie at her neck loose, then reaches around to the one at her back, causin’ the tiny, triangles to fall to the floor.

  "Holy fuck," I groan at the sight of those divine, all natural tits with beautiful pink nipples. The tits I've stroked my cock to more times than I can count are right before my eyes. So close I could almost reach out and touch them.

  Eve's chest is flushed and her lips are parted like she's gettin’ turned on, likin’ what she sees after askin’ me to take my shirt off. Her obvious appreciation only ratchets up my own need. Slowly, too slowly, her hands go to the strings on each hip at the same time and tug until they pull free and fall, leavin’ her naked from her head down to her bright red, fuck-me heels.

  When she doesn't move, I glance back up to her face. Her downcast eyes seem unsure or hesitant as she gnaws on her bottom lip. One of her arms is wrapped around her slender waist like she's tryin’ to be modest and wants nothin’ more than to cover herself back up. The effect makes her look so damn innocent, and sexy as fuck. I gotta give it to her, she is one hell of an actress. But now I feel like a demandin’ asshole, barkin’ orders at her because I'm so goddamn horny my cock's about to explode.

  "Come here," I say, offerin’ her my hand to bring her closer. Hopin’ to put her at ease, I try coaxin’ her to stop teasin’ me and finally sit her fine ass on my lap. Instead of persuadin’ her, my suggestion seems to have the opposite effect. Her wide eyes cut to the closed door and then back at me, appearin’ even more nervous than before. "You-you're not supposed to touch me."

  Hearin’ her voice waiver like she's actually freakin’ out about bein’ alone with me sends a jolt of shame through my chest. I'm treatin’ her like she's supposed to throw herself at me just because she’s a porn star. Is that what I expected when I decided to meet her? For her to just fuck me because she does it for a livin’? I pull my offered hand back and rub both of my sweaty palms down my jeans to dry them. "I’m sorry. Look, you don't have to do this if you don't want-"

  "I need to," she says right away. "I mean, it's fine. I just wanted to make sure we're clear on the, um, boundaries."

  "Yeah, I got it. I definitely won’t touch you, okay?"

  She nods her agreement and takes a few steps closer to me before she starts swayin’ her hips to the AC/DC song comin’ through the speakers on the wall. Her dancin’ is stiff and awkward at first, but then she starts to warm up a little and her movements grow more fluid. She cups both of her breasts, makin’ me groan when, no shit, my cock actually pulls a lyin’ Pinocchio stunt on me. Eve's movements stop abruptly, as her eyes lower to the totem pole erected in my pants. On the one hand, I'm incredibly embarrassed by the very visible arousal tentin’ my jeans, but on the other, my chest puffs out proudly since now she knows exactly what I'm workin’ with. Those male porn stars don't have shit on me.

  "Wow," she mutters again, eyes still on my crotch. That one word indicatin’ she's impressed makes my shaft swell even bigger. "How am I supposed to give you a lap dance with…with the freaking Cock Ness Monster taking up all the space?"

  After she raises her eyes back up to mine, we smile at each other in amusement and then both of us erupt into laughter. That small bit of humor seems to loosen her up, lettin’ her shoulders relax a little, so I try to keep it up. "I'd apologize, but nah, you'll just have to work around…Nessie," I tell her.

  Eve giggles sweetly before slappin’ a dainty hand over her mouth. Her other hand waves in the general direction of my erection. "Could you at least try to, I don't know, contain it, maybe?"

  My eyes holdin’ hers, I reach down into my jeans and wrangle control of Nessie. Foldin’ it up against my body, I use the elastic band of my boxer briefs to hold down the head. "Better?" I ask, unable to hide my face-splittin’ grin.

  "Yes," she says with what sounds like a relieved exhale before slowly approachin’ me. My eyes are drawn to her tits as they sway in an incredibly hypnotic way with each of her steps. Tentatively grabbin’ my shoulders, she places first one knee down on the couch beside my outer thigh, and then the other so that she's finally straddlin’ my lap. Her perfect tits are now eye level, and I’m unable to stop starin’. The sight of those heavy, swinging temptresses, along with her sweet, citrusy, smell of fresh oranges, has my mouth waterin’. Her pussy, mostly bare with only a thin landing strip, hovers just a few inches above my swollen to capacity cock. My hands are practically twitchin’ with the need to touch her. I want to squeeze a handful of her breasts that look fuller in person than on camera, and swipe my two fingers between her wide open folds to see if she’s even a little wet with arousal. Is she turned on at al
l bein’ in here with me, or is she just goin’ through the motions, doin’ what’s expected of her?

  The urge to touch her delicate areas is so intense that I have to grab the armrests of the couch cushions and hold on tight to keep them off of her. I brace myself for the magic that's about to happen, Eve grindin’ that beautiful body against my lap…except after five seconds I'm startin’ to think it’s very possible that she's never actually done this before. Her body rolls in this spastic lookin’ move, makin’ me absolutely certain that the inexperience is not an act. I realize this fact about the time that she leans backwards too far. Her arms start wind millin’ as she starts to fall to the floor. Thankfully I have quick reflexes, so I scoop her up, slappin’ both of my hands on her back to catch her. Her skin is so fuckin’ smooth and soft under my fingertips that I can’t resist slidin’ my palms up her spine as I lift her forward to my chest again. Eve lets out a startled yelp at the same time the door flies open, so hard the door knob bangs against the wall.

  "Take your fucking hands off of her!" a giant with a crew cut yells at me.

  Jesus. They actually do monitor these rooms like crazy. Once Eve’s firmly graspin’ my shoulders again, and I'm sure she's got her balance, I throw my palms up facin’ forward to show I've complied with his order. I might fight for a livin’ but I wouldn't last a second in the cage with this mammoth.

  "It's okay," Eve tells the bouncer without turnin’ around, her head bowed and hair hidin’ her face. "I just lost my balance."

  "Last warning," the man says, pointin’ a thick, meaty finger at me. He could care less about her explanation before he pulls the door shut again.

  "Sorry," she says, her partially hidden face radiatin’ warmth from embarrassment.