by Nina Crespo
Prickles of irritation spread over Rafe. “Bullshit. Tell him to man up and get out here.”
Flynn shook his head. “Not happening. Trust me.”
Shannon glanced pointedly from Rafe to the cowboy hat Lance had left on the hay bale.
The Hunks running late. Shannon insisting he drag his ass on stage. Alexa in the audience. It had to be part of some fucking evil conspiracy. He massaged the tightness in the back of his neck. A performance, especially an extended one, would give the rest of the group time to arrive. He could also put his own demons behind him. This time when he finished his last set forever as a male entertainer, he’d leave everything behind, including his preoccupation with Alexa.
Minutes later, he stood on stage behind the semi-clear barrier in front of the fake hay bales. He wore the hat.
The DJ cued up a track with a slow, melodic electric guitar chord. The strains of the rock ballad mixed with the twang of a country beat grew louder.
Goose bumps prickled on Rafe’s arms. The song was an old one. He’d barely been a year old when it had come out. He’d discovered it at sixteen on a recording in a cassette player amidst the junk in the garage of the house in Michigan where he’d lived with his father. A label with his deceased mother’s name had been attached to it. Three years later, as one of the only possessions he had of hers, he’d grabbed it before he’d walked out.
Rage threatened to surface as the memory of his drunken father dogging his steps and hurling insults at him as he walked to his blue Honda, intending to leave home for good, returned full force. His father had told Rafe that he’d fail, and that when he came crawling back to Boland, he wouldn’t be welcome. Whenever he danced a cowboy-themed solo, he insisted on the DJ digging up the song. It was a strong reminder of the day he’d left Michigan for Miami. And he’d never looked back.
The barrier lifted to rising fog.
He cleared his mind and concentrated on the routine.
The low and slow sway of his pelvis earned him enthusiastic squeals. Rafe made eye contact with a cute brunette. He winked at her and peeled off his vest. She fanned her face. On the other side of the stage, he skimmed his fingers down his chest and abs. A curvy blonde’s mouth fell open with a look of awe. The buzz of excitement crackling in the room fed his drive to please. He worked the crowd, focusing on moves that made the audience wish they could get their hands on him. Or that he was touching them.
Rafe dropped down and jackhammered his hips to the floor.
Every woman stood, shouting louder, eager for him to continue—except Alexa.
Chapter Four
Alexa’s knees had grown weak, and she’d had to drop into the chair. And she was suddenly a little light-headed. Why was it so damn warm? Had the club turned down the air conditioner? She slid her empty glass aside, grabbed Nat’s, and sucked down the dregs. She needed something to cool her off and obliterate the images Raphael conjured up. Sex. Under him. On top of him. In every position possible.
A song with a faster tempo and lyrics advocating riding a cowboy instead of a horse replaced the first and spurred even more sensual images.
Holy shit. She needed a drink. Bad. A server had passed by a minute ago. Where was she now?
The blond Hot Body Hunk who’d rocked the ballet routine, and the smooth, brown-skinned, shaved head performer whose erotic sports-themed solo at the start of the show had shed new light on the missed joys of baseball, wove shirtless through the crowd. They tipped their cowboy hats and grinned. Occasionally they stopped to dance for members of the audience and welcomed caresses that lingered over the waistbands of their jeans.
The DJ’s voice broke in over the song. “Looks like the cowboy on stage is ready to ride. Who’s going to break him in?”
Women held up their hands or pointed to friends.
The two Hunks searched for a lucky victim.
It wouldn’t be her. Alexa stood up as they moved away, intending to head for the bar. Some other woman would get the chance to run her hands over Rafe’s sculpted perfection. Not that she cared. A ping of disappointment struck. Okay, maybe she was a tad envious. She squeezed through the group behind her. Someone grasped her arm. She turned her head and met the liquid brown gaze of the Hunk sporting a shaved head.
He winked at her and smiled. “You’re wanted.”
Before she could respond, he ushered her past tables and steered her up the stairs to the stage.
Raphael’s predatory stare blocked out the room. Her mouth grew dry, and her heart knocked against her rib cage. What did he want with her? Why did the Hunk next to her have a rope in his hand? Did Raphael plan on tying her up? Was it wrong that she wanted to tie him up and ride his cock instead? Of course it was! Sex wasn’t part of the show’s carefully choreographed entertainment.
The blond Hunk looped the rope around her waist. He tossed the free end across the stage.
Raphael caught it. He wound the lasso around his hand, pulling her closer. When she was a few feet away, he jerked her forward.
She fell into him, and the pleasing mix of sandalwood, citrus, and musk surrounded her. The slightest brush of his lips over her earlobe sent a rush of desire flooding to her middle. What is he doing? Last time he hadn’t used props. It had just been the two of them, sitting on a chair.
“Hold on to me.” He loosened the rope, and it dropped to the floor.
She’d barely grasped his shoulders when he lifted her straight up and spun her around in a circle. Surprise and a rush of exhilaration tore a squeak out of Alexa.
He sat her on the hay bale, then pushed her knees apart. His pecs tightened, and his abs rippled as he eased between her thighs with a slow-motion grind.
Her hands developed a mind of their own, and suddenly she was touching his chest. A fine sheen of sweat and oil eased the glide of her palms over smooth skin. A sigh wrapped in a moan escaped from her. He was so hard. Everywhere.
A you-want-me smirk settled over his face as he dragged her hand to the rivet of his jeans.
The same expression of amusement on his face now had lit up his eyes on the night of her bachelorette party. She’d taken it as a challenge, to see if she could really turn him on. Every time she’d landed on him, she’d wiggled on his lap. Toward the end of the Musical Hunks game, he’d had a hard-on, and those gorgeous eyes of his had darkened with lust.
But she’d neglected to keep that kind of desire burning in Brad.
Images of her having fun back then intertwined with the humiliating crash of her wedding day. Brad’s parents had blamed her for what happened. They’d insisted she’d failed him in some way. Why else would their precious son have left?
Failure. Betrayal. The words bore into her, and the mind-numbing sadness she’d worked so hard to bury for months started to leak out. Alexa grew cold and heavy.
Just when her hand was about to slip from his, Raphael grasped her fingers.
His warmth, along with the intensity in his eyes, dragged her back from jilted-bride hell. He stared as if he really wanted her, but his desire was an illusion. It was all part of the show to make his performance believable. Like Brad, proclaiming the day before what should have been their wedding day that he loved her and couldn’t wait to get married.
“Don’t let opportunity pass you by. Indulge.”
That’s what Nat had said earlier, but free to indulge in what? Another carefully orchestrated lie?
Raphael braced his hands on either side of her and leaned in. “Come out and play, princess. Unzip me.”
The huskiness in his voice awakened her desire. Why couldn’t she play along? This was all a game, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t get hurt, disappointed, or cast aside.
His gleaming zipper screamed temptation.
She popped open the metal stud on his jeans, and the heat of his abdomen seeped into her fingers. He was the Dream Maker. She could explore him without risk and forget her troubles for the next five minutes of his performance.
Alexa eased down the tab of the zi
pper, unveiling the front of his black underwear. Did he have on a G-string? Anticipation made her shake. This was like unwrapping a present, and he was her sexy surprise.
He moved closer.
She widened her legs, and the hem of her dress inched up. As she caressed up the sides of his waist, her worries about her purple lace bikinis being on display to the audience were lost in the sensation of his jeans grazing her inner thighs. She scored her nails over the tight muscular ridges of his stomach.
He sucked in a breath, and as he released it, his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.
Raphael moved farther in and came inches away from seating himself firmly between her legs. His body heat penetrated through the lace of her bikinis, and her sex pulsed.
She’d relived the last time he’d danced for her so many times in her mind. How he’d picked her up with no effort and switched places, putting her in the chair.
In one easy movement, Raphael grasped her waist and set her farther from the edge of the hay bale. He crawled up.
Alexa scooted back, and her stiletto heels caught in the tangle of fake straw. As he covered her, she had no choice but to lay under him.
Hands planted on either side of her, he hovered. His fathomless green eyes never leaving hers, he closed the inches between them, engulfing her in body heat. His whisker-shadowed jawline lightly rasped over her cheek. “Touch me. You know you want to. I won’t bite.” He chuckled, and the deep, rich rumble vibrated into her. “Unless you want me to.”
Need uncoiled with the image of him sucking and biting her neck. Touch him? He didn’t have to ask twice. She opened her tightly balled hands, and tingles flowed into her fingers. Alexa traced down the cords of his neck and stroked his solid shoulders and chest. His nipples puckered as she grazed over them.
Fine tremors shook the hay bale as he supported his weight. His heart leaped wildly under her palm.
Was he turned on? Boldness spurred her to caress his back. She dipped into the waistband of his underwear and caressed a bit lower. No G-string this time. Too bad, but still so good. She traced his hip bones and the V framing his lower abdominals.
He lifted away but then slowly rolled his body above hers.
Heat radiated between her thighs. Barely there brushes against her breasts and belly made her tingle. Images ignited. In her fantasies, the chair had always turned into a bed, and their clothes had melted away. He’d sucked her nipples as he trailed down her abdomen. He’d plunged his fingers inside of her and teased her clit until she’d writhed, hovering on the brink. Then he’d given her his cock, delivering pure pleasure as he fucked her hard and deep.
Suddenly, in the now, he pushed up and bucked his hips.
His fast, rhythmic thrusts teased and taunted her with the need to have his skin gliding against hers. Alexa arched up, desperate to make contact. Her sex clenched around emptiness. If only this were real, and he were actually inside of her. Pleasing her.
Screams of excitement and applause yanked her from the brink of an orgasm.
The music faded.
His chest heaved as if he’d run a race.
Her heart echoed in her ears. She moved to sit up, and her shin bumped his prominent erection.
He gritted his teeth with a sucked in breath. “Don’t. Move.” He nodded to someone backstage. As soon as the gold curtain dropped, Raphael eased off her. He hitched up his jeans, but it was obvious that he couldn’t zip past the bulge in his briefs.
She gripped his outstretched hand and scooted to the floor.
His gaze lingered on her mouth. He leaned in.
Desire pooled inside of her, and her legs wobbled. Months ago, she’d beaten herself up over the kiss they’d shared. Back then, he’d pressed his lips to hers and left her wondering about how he’d taste. What it would feel like to drift her tongue over his. Now she could find out.
Raphael halted millimeters away, then shook his head as if in answer to a silent question. He took off his cowboy hat and dropped it on her head. “One of the guys will show you back to your seat.” He spun on his heels and left.
Huh? No kiss? That’s not how this was supposed to end. “Wait!”
The blond-haired Hunk stood in front of her.
She ignored the gentlemanly offer of his arm and pushed past him.
A dozen or more of the Hot Body Hunks in various stages of undress rushed around behind the curtain and down the corridor to the left.
Raphael stalked down the one ahead of her.
She went after him, her heels clicking rapidly on the white tiles.
He glanced back. “This is a private area.”
“You forgot something.”
“Keep the damn hat.” He stopped at the end of the hallway and stabbed a code into a keypad next to a green metal door.
“That’s not why I’m here. I want that kiss you promised me.”
“Promised?” He released a harsh chuckle and yanked the door open. “Fairy tale’s over. This is reality. Any kiss I give you now, princess, ends with you only wearing the hat.”
Fairy tale and reality? Those two fickle bitches could kick rocks. She’d been left at the altar. Now, she’d been abandoned on a fake hay bale. She’d had it with guys not following through. Raphael revved her up. He damn well needed to finish what he had started.
“My name’s Alexa, not princess, and I know what I want.” Alexa marched up to him and wound her arms around his neck. “For you to stop making excuses and kiss me.”
Chapter Five
Raphael’s irritated stare deflated some of her bravado. He’d called her princess and had spoken to her as if she were some spoiled young thing who was completely clueless about what he was offering. She wasn’t.
“Go ahead.” Alexa lifted on her toes. “You know you want to.”
His brow raised slightly. “I don’t mess around with married women.”
She waved her left hand, showing him her bare ring finger. “It didn’t work out.” Her confidence threatened to slip away with her admission, but she held onto it. “I’m not married.”
Raphael’s eyes narrowed on her face.
She could almost hear the conversation undoubtedly playing in his mind, questioning her sincerity, wondering if she was worth the trouble. She was. She’d prove it to him. Alexa’s calves strained as she raised higher and brought her lips nearer to his.
“Fuck it.” He closed the distance.
The hat fell to the floor.
Yes! Triumph quickly escalated to lust with the glide of his tongue over hers. The minty taste of his mouth and the pleasant musk of sweat and cologne on his skin saturated her senses. She existed in that kiss, craved it more than her next breath. Unlike their first, this one exploded with urgency. It conveyed blatant, unrestrained want. Greedy for more, she tightened her hold on him and deepened the kiss. Carnal hunger awakened a frenzy of need.
He broke from her lips but kept his arms firmly around her.
His gaze roamed over her face, searching. “Alexa?”
Warning her about what was to come wasn’t necessary. She wasn’t stopping, and if she had any say in the matter, neither was he. Alexa stroked his chest and abs, then moved her hand lower and cupped his erection. “Yes.” A caress along his length solidified her answer as she went back in for another kiss.
He held on to her and pulled her willingly past the threshold.
The door slammed shut.
Muted light illuminated gray walls.
Her single-minded need blocked out everything else.
She shoved down his jeans.
He dragged up the skirt of her dress.
He took care of his briefs, and she shimmied out of her bikinis.
Caught up in the sight of his hard cock bobbing against his taut abdomen, she teetered on the polished wood floor as she stepped out of her underwear.
She reached for him, but he won the exploration game.
He trailed his finger along the seam of her sex then plunged it inside of her.
<
br /> She gripped his biceps and arched her hips.
His thumb drifting over her clit pulled a moan out of her. Hard thrusts with featherlight strokes in between…just the way she liked to be pleased. She canted her hips, starved for the lush sensations washing over her.
He captured her whimpers of pleasure in a kiss.
Her heart pounded. She was so close, but his talented touch wasn’t enough. She needed him. “You…I want you.”
He swept kisses along her throat. “Condoms are on the other side of the room. You’re almost there. Let me take care of you.”
His teeth nipping sensitive skin raised shivers. “No. Wait. I have one.” She fumbled with the zipper on her bag. Digging past her cell, driver’s license, credit card, lip gloss, and a twenty-dollar bill, she found the lone, Do Me condom.
Raphael grabbed it.
He tore open the package, and she plucked the red circle from his grasp. Now it was her turn to explore. As she rolled it on, her heart rate kicked up with the thrill of feeling him pulsing against her fingers.
He sucked in a ragged breath. “Not the time to play, princess.” He cupped her ass and lifted her up.
She grasped onto him and wrapped her legs around his waist.
In one quick thrust, he impaled her. The delightful shock of being filled completely left her stunned.
He pulled out and drove back in.
A wash of heat and pure decadent sensation consumed her. Alexa raked her nails over his back. “Raphael…yes.” She dug her heels into his butt every time her back smacked the solid surface of the wall.
He hitched her legs higher on his waist. “Damn, you feel good.” Raphael pumped into her harder. Deeper.
Quivers erupted low in her belly. Tingles spread. Heat blazed. An orgasm rushed through her, and she squeezed her inner muscles around him, prolonging the moment.
He tensed, and his hips moved faster. Shudders rocked him, and he pinned her firmly against the wall. Burying his face in the side of her neck, he groaned and found release.
Alexa reveled in bliss.
Their harsh breaths filled the silence.