His not-so-subtle wink makes me laugh.
“Come on you old hound, stop embarrassing the boy and let’s get out of here before the traffic gets crazy,” Marlene says. She points at me. “You bring that girl over for dinner sometime next week.”
“I will,” I say.
Once Tim and Marlene are gone, I push my way through the packed house and head back stage to find her. Her fellow dancers surround her. I lean against a wall and watch her a moment. I’ve never seen someone light up from within the way she does. When she’s happy, everyone knows it. When she’s sad, hearts break. Right now I’m just basking in her light, soaking it in.
The other dancers in her troupe pat her on the back and tell her how amazing she did. Her smile is effervescent. As if sensing my presence, she looks around until she sees me and runs into my arms, tangling her limbs with mine in a crushing hug.
“I was so nervous,” she says, still out of breath.
The roar of other voices is too loud. I can barely hear her. I pull her into a nearby storage room away from the noisy crowd so we have some privacy. I look around the room. We’re surrounded by props and racks of costumes.
“You didn’t look nervous,” I tell her, brushing away stands of hair that stick to the sweat beading her forehead. “You looked stunning.”
Her smile beams. “I thought of you the entire time. Your encouragement got me through it,” she says.
I kiss her. It was only meant to be a peck, but she parts her lips and finds my tongue, deepening it. She pulls away only long enough to say, “I’m so fucking turned on right now.”
I smile as she pushes her lips back onto mine.
She’s wearing a cream-colored leotard. There isn’t much to it, just a thin veil of fabric for flexibility. When I brush my hand across her breasts, her nipples are hard and obvious. I pinch them through the fabric and she moans into my mouth. Damn, she really is turned on. Then again, I’ve noticed that about her. Every time she comes back from practice, she drags me straight to the bed. The exertion gets her frisky, or maybe it’s the adrenaline that comes along with it.
I run my finger along the fabric between her legs. Her arousal soaks through, wetting my fingers. She moves her hips, grinding against them. I move the fabric to the side. Just as my fingers are about to enter her, the door opens, and there’s a gasp from our intruder. Cadie startles and we both whip our heads around to see the trespasser.
A young woman with a blonde pixie cut stands in the doorway. She glances at me, then at Cadie. Her face blushes a deep crimson and she mutters apologies as she backs out and closes the door. I wedge a chair under the door handle so we won’t be disturbed again.
I laugh and kiss Cadie on the forehead. She’s smiling too, but there’s something odd in her expression.
“What?” I ask, concerned.
“Do you recognize her?”
“No, is she a friend of yours?”
She lets out a deep sigh of relief. “That’s Mara, the girl who said she slept with you.”
“I’ve never seen that woman in my life,” I say in all honesty. Nothing about her was familiar.
“You just saw her on stage. She played the sister to my character.”
I pull Cadie back into my arms. “Well, she wasn’t memorable. Compared to you, all the other dancers were just shadows.”
She smiles, and the wariness leaves her eyes. “Enough about them,” Cadie says, dragging me to the corner of the room where there’s a prop couch on wheels. She sits down and spreads her legs. “It’s time for my reward.”
I kneel before my queen. The wet patch of fabric between her legs has grown in size. I do believe getting caught may have turned her on even more. Is my girl an exhibitionist? That could be fun. She sure didn’t seem to care if anyone caught us that day on the beach. Just another path we’ll get to explore in our life together.
I pull the crotch of her leotard to the side, exposing her lush sex, dripping with want. My tongue swirls her delicious crevice like ice cream on a cone. I breathe her scent. Delicate and floral. I reach up and take the straps of her leotard, pulling them down off of her shoulders, exposing her breasts. I want her completely naked before me. I keep peeling the stretchy fabric off her body until it’s in a pile on the floor.
I wonder if seeing her naked will ever cease to amaze me. We fuck every night. I see her naked everyday but the sight of her still takes my breath away. I notice something new about her body each time. A different freckle. A well-defined muscle. I make a mental map. One day I will know her like the back of my hand. I will know everything that makes her tick. I suspect that even then, I won’t tire of her. I’ll just get better at bringing her pleasure until I’m a master of my craft.
Taking her clit into my mouth, I nibble on the stiff bud. She raises her hips, pushing against my face. I slide two fingers inside her. Now that her body is starting to adjust to my size, she can take three fingers, so I slip in another. She sucks in a breath. Things get significantly more slippery. When I pull my fingers out, they’re coated.
She sits up and wrestles with my pants until they drop down to my ankles. She then pulls down my boxers.
I grab my cock and slather it with her juices, slowly stroking myself. She gives me a mischievous smile and kneels in front of me. Is she going to …
Yes, she is.
“Fuck,” I groan as her mouth wraps around my dick and she sucks with vigor. She’s getting better at taking my length. Soon she’ll be able to down the entire thing. I can see the shape of it in the column of her throat, and I watch it go in and out. She doesn’t choke or gag. I’m impressed. And fucking turned on. This won’t take long. I’m right there.
“Wait, baby, I’m going to come,” I tell her.
She refuses to let go.
Okay, I see how it is.
Grabbing my ass, she pushes me deeper into her throat until her nose is pushed up against me. Holy shit, she got the whole thing in there. My fingers caress her cheeks then tangle in her hair.
“Oh fuck, I can’t hold on much longer,” I say.
This doesn’t stop her.
I try to hold on, but I can’t. My body lets go and I feel myself burst apart. She drinks it up, every drop until finally she pulls away and licks her lips.
I collapse on the couch beside her. “I was supposed to reward you, remember?”
She gives me a sexy look and winks at me. “You just did.”
I’m not letting her leave this place without getting her off on her big day. “Come here,” I tell her, and hoist her onto my lap.
I kiss her deep, tasting my salty cum on her tongue. She moans into my mouth as I play with her taut little clit. It doesn’t take long before I’m ready for round two. I take Cadie by the hips and lift her up. When she’s in line with the head of my rigid shaft, I lower her down and it’s like she’s melting onto me.
“God, you feel good,” I breathe.
“So do you,” she says, and starts to ride me.
I keep fondling her clit. Her moans get louder. Luckily the noise of the crowd is too loud for anyone to hear unless their ear is up against the door. Maybe not even then.
Her pussy shudders around me. I’ve grown familiar enough with her body to know what that means. She’s close. I move my fingers faster against her clit. Her eyes roll in the back of her head. Her entire body starts to shake.
“That’s it, let go,” I tell her.
I pull her closer to me and suck one of her hard nipples into my mouth. That does it. That sends her over the edge. She throws her head back. Her lungs open and she lets out a strangled cry as her orgasm destroys her.
“Oh, God, you’re amazing,” she says.
I lick the space between her breasts, and run my rough hands over the smooth globes of her ass cheeks. I tilt my head back and look up at her. The light above her casts her face in a shadow. All I can see is the gleam of her bright eyes.
“Not nearly as amazing as you, my love.”
* *
*
We get dressed. There’s an obvious wet spot on Cadie’s leotard. She finds a skirt on one of the costume racks and giggles as she puts it on.
“Look what you did to me,” she says.
I cup her ass and give it a good squeeze. “I’ll do a whole lot more than that once I get you home.” I still have some fight left in me. I could go another round or two.
She bites her lip and looks up at me with those big stormy eyes, hungry for more. “Let’s hurry home.”
“If we can get through the crowd of fans,” I say.
Her smile falters. “I’m sure there aren’t that many. You’re just biased.” Fear draws her eyebrows together. “What if critics hate it? What if this show is my last?”
“It’s not,” I assure her. “Everyone loves you.”
If only she knew just how amazing she truly is. I hold her face in my hands and stare into her eyes. “People adore you. I was in the crowd. I saw their faces, their expressions, their tears. You are loved by everyone—by me, most of all.”
I kiss her. “Now, try not to forget about the little people on your way to the top.”
She rolls her eyes and takes my hand.
We leave the stage, but we don’t get far. We’re bombarded by hordes of fans, just like I told her. She looks startled by the attention at first, but then starts to relax. She looks up at me with a smile so big it forces her eyes closed. I shrug as if to say, I told you so.
They beg for autographs and selfies. She’s offered business cards and other jobs. They fawn over her like the star that she is.
I stand by and watch as she meets new people and signs autographs. Little girls look up at her with stars in their eyes. She’s their idol. If the lights were out, I swear she’d continue to shine.
For a while, after meeting Cadie, I regretted my past as the Bed Shaker. I was ashamed. Surrounded by forgettable faces, the stalkers, the awkward trysts, the lonely nights, the void I was trying to fill through meaningless sex. But I can’t regret it anymore. If I hadn’t been the Bed Shaker, Cadie’s friend never would have given her my number, and we never would have met. I wouldn’t change any of it for the world. It all led me to the girl of my dreams and the love of my life.
Copyright © 2020 Penny Wylder
All rights reserved. Excedpt as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.
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Contents
1. Phade
2. Sylvia
3. Phade
4. Sylvia
5. Sylvia
6. Phade
7. Sylvia
8. Sylvia
9. Sylvia
10. Sylvia
11. Phade
12. Sylvia
13. Phade
14. Sylvia
15. Sylvia
16. Phade
17. Sylvia
18. Phade
Epilogue
1
Phade
“You ready?” Stone asks as I'm climbing into the back of the limo.
There's no need for me to make eye contact with him to know he's more than ready to go out tonight. I can smell his excitement.
His cologne is thick and heavy, the same cologne he's worn since we were sixteen years old and he was trying to get laid. It's filling the limo with a musky, outdoor scent.
Taking in a deep breath, I lay my arms across the back of the seat, and grin. “Ready? Fuck, Stone, I was born ready.” Chuckling, I relax my body, bouncing my shoulders and flexing my arms. “You think God gave me these dimples just for shits and giggles?”
Stone cocks a brow and smirks. “Is that what those are. . . dimples? I thought those were creases from—” Lifting a closed fist to his mouth, he moves his arm like he's giving head.
“Don't be jealous asshole, I can't help it that pussy flocks to me like seagulls on food in a parking lot.”
“Good analogy, Phade, that's why you get paid to use your fists and not your fucking head.”
“Well, tonight I plan on just using my cock. I left everything else at home.” Grabbing my dick, I jerk my hips.
Stone shakes his head with a smile on his face. “One day your dick's going to fall off, you know that right?”
“Not this dick; it's made of gold.”
We both start laughing, and Stone passes me a shot of vodka as he pours one for himself. “To going pro. Your hard work, and harder head, has finally paid off.”
Tapping my glass against his, I nod. “I can drink to that.”
It's satisfying. Call me conceited, call me full of myself, but I damn well deserve all of this. I worked my ass off to get here, and finally, after years of training and using the underground circuit to make a name for myself, someone has finally recognized my potential. And that someone is willing to pay me a shit ton of money to do what I love—break skulls.
Daniel Cross, my new agent and boss, has represented a few other well-known names over the years, but I'm his prodigy, the name that's going to send him straight to the top. With him at my side, we'll be unstoppable.
The limo stops outside the club, and I see a long line stretching around the building as I look out the window. The bouncer is only letting in a few people at a time and turning away so many more. If you don't have a recognizable face or a handful of hundreds to slip him, getting in is as good as winning the lottery. It's the new Studio Fifty-Four of our time and everyone wants to be here.
The limo driver opens my door and steps to the side so I can get out. “Thanks. We'll be here for a bit so just stay close.” Shaking his hand, I slip him a couple hundred dollars. He won't go anywhere, not now.
I can't stop the smile that hits my mouth as everyone waiting in the line goes silent. Jaws drop wide, panties soak instantly, flooding the sidewalk as I step up onto the curb.
Fuck, I love that. I love the silence, the wide eyes, and the smell of a pussy in heat. Every woman in the line wants to fuck me. And I'll be happy to make their dream come true one at a time.
Stone climbs out behind me, his smile matching mine. Leaning into my ear, he whispers, “There's plenty here for you to pick from. Think you can leave me just one?”
“I can't promise you anything.” Slapping his shoulder, the bouncer gives me a nod, pulling the rope back to let us in. This line means nothing, not for a man like me.
When your name's Phade 'Brass Knuckles' Manson, lines don't exist.
There are whispers and yells, women calling my name and screaming to get my attention. Flashes from cameras pop in my peripheral vision, so I put on my best smile and try to give them the shot they're looking for, the one that will end up on the front page of a magazine.
This shit never gets old. I used to think it was wild when a single person knew who I was while I was fighting underground, but now, now it's surreal.
I can't go anywhere without girls following me, women throwing themselves at me, passing me slips of paper with their number on it. Going pro was the single best thing I've ever done. I wouldn't change a thing.
Fame. Money. Girls.
What more could a single man ask for?
The music turns up in volume the second we step inside, with bass so deep it's making my chest pound and my ribs vibrate. Strobe lights flash in the darkness. A thick smoky haze floats in the room like a velvet blanket.
The air smells like perfume and sweat. People are smashing against each other, grinding, groping, almost fucking on the dance floor.
Stone taps my shoulder to get my attention and points to the VIP seating behind the bar. Moving through the crowd, hands slip over my arms as women try to hang on, wanting to
take home even the smallest piece of me.
But Stone does what he does best, moving them aside with one wide sweep of his arm. “Step aside, ladies,” he says, putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing us through the sea of cleavage. “The night is long.”
“What's your poison, boys?” a bottle girl asks as we slide into a booth.
She's got short blonde hair, a cute little nose, and a decent rack. I'd take her to a hotel for a night, no questions asked, but that's all I'm willing to give.
Settling down isn't in the cards, not for a guy like me. I have too much life left to experience. Why waste it with one woman?
“It's a boys’ night out tonight,” I say, tapping my knuckles on the table. “We'll take your most expensive bottle, whatever it is.”
“Boys’ night, huh?” Smirking, her eyes linger on mine for a moment as she bites her bottom lip. “You're Phade Manson, right?”
“That's right,” I say, stroking my jaw. “You watch ultimate fighting?”
Shrugging her shoulder nonchalantly, she smiles. “On occasion. My brother is a big fan.”
“Bring me something, I'll sign it for him if you want.”
She gently bites her nail, her eyes darting around my face. “I might take you up on that.”
Winking, I give her a sly, sexy smile back. “How about some shots, my buddy and I could go for some shots.” Turning to Stone, I slap his arm. “Right, Stone, you want a shot, don't ya?”
He shoots me a look, so I take out my wallet and thumb through some cash.
“Fuck it, if you're paying, I'm in. Let's go, round of shots for us, please.”
“What kind of shots?” she asks, her tone flirty and playful.
“Surprise us,” I say, smiling wide to make sure the dimples do their job.
Big Bad Boys: A Romance Collection Page 23