When the crescendo proclaimed that the chorus had arrived the two stepped away from the prop and twirled and stomped their way around the stage. Each and every step they took was determined and full of intent—the intent being to arouse and seduce every man at their feet.
Little black pleated skirts barely reached the top of the thigh. Nick swallowed numerous times as he watched them both move closer and closer. Black garters ran the length of each leg, connecting the striped, sheer stockings under the skirt. Connected them to what, Nick wondered and then realized he didn’t care.
His knowledge of lingerie ran as far as the occasional Victoria Secret catalog placed in their mailbox by mistake. Those were good months.
Stiletto boots sheathed the long, trim legs that descended the stairs in time with the music. Those black patent encasements laced all the way to the knee looked both sexy and dangerous at the same time. An image of the dancer in nothing but the boots flashed before Nick’s eyes and he felt his cock jump beneath his zipper. If this was any clue as to how the rest of the night was going to continue, he was in for a few hours of heaven and hell, either one welcome.
As the two made their way to their respective side of the stage, Nick was grateful they’d found an open seat near the stage. The long-legged, raven-haired goddess, with the fuck-me mouth, fuck-me eyes, fuck-me everything was right on top of them. Nick found that the garters connected underneath a pair of ruffled, red boy shorts that barely covered the firm little bottom peeking out from beneath the skirt.
Nick watched her transfixed. She swayed, dipped and thrust to the beat as did the dancer behind her. He noticed that even though their backs were to each other the synchronization never ended.
He held his breath as she ran her hands down the front of the tight bustier top, releasing each clasp one by one on her way back to the top. Holding the top together with both hands she teased to the right of Nick’s seat and then to the left only revealing a flash of caramel torso here and a hint of round breast there.
In the next instant, both dancers crouched down balancing on the stiletto heels of their boots and exposed what the red camisole has concealed. Covering most of the breast and the entire nipple was a red pasty shaped like a pair of lips. And they were right in Nick Kiel’s face. He thought at that moment he could die a happy man. And in the next second wished he was a dead man. Then the realization came that he may in fact be a dead man come morning.
“Holy shit!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Even with the music blaring, the crowd’s screams and Hayden whistling, she heard him. Her midnight bob swiveled toward him and those eyes her bangs tried to hide met his. Her mouth gaped open, her hands pulled the sides of the bustier together and she repeated his sentiment, “Holy shit.”
Her voice was low and strangled and jumped a little. She kept staring at him. Nick wished he could disappear, and from the look on her face she wished the same thing. He felt Hayden’s hands grasp his shoulders and shake him a bit. He couldn’t pay attention to his brother. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
His brother must have realized, finally, that he was the only one at the table for two who was still enjoying themselves. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Hayden’s face sober a bit and then turn toward where his brother gazed.
Never having much tact and lacking the filter that most people had between their brains and their mouths, Hayden’s exclamation was louder and higher pitched than either brother would have liked, “Holy fucking shit!”
Nick saw the girl jerk her eyes from brother to brother. She paled more, if it was possible. She risked a quick peek back at Nick and then inch by inch rose from her crouched, exposed position on the stage to her full height. Nick would pay for his next thought soon enough, but all he could think about was her encased legs, that seemed miles and miles long, wrapped tightly around his waist, clenching her to him. Those dewy, painted lips, even though set firm and unsmiling now, held promises of deep kisses that would run the length of a man’s body over and over again. Yep, he was going to hell.
Quickly and with style, she turned on the stiletto heel and made her way, with her partner, back to where the whole thing had started. The lights dimmed once more, a cheer resounded and yells for more filled the area.
The only thing Nick heard was the sound of his own heartbeat and the rush of his blood from his jeans back to his head where it belonged. It took a minute. Hayden’s words finally busted their way through Nick’s frantic thoughts and he turned in his seat.
“Tell me that was not who I think it was. Tell me this is all some fucked up nightmare and we both are going to wake up any minute. Tell me. Lie to me if you have to. I can take it.” Watching Hayden down the contents of the three beer bottles on the table made Nick’s throat drier than it already was. He swallowed a few times and then made the decision to tell his brother, “You’re right about one thing.”
“What’s that?” Hayden asked as he wiped his arm across his mouth.
“We’re in a fucking nightmare.”
“No shit.” Hayden chuckled a bit but there was nothing funny about the situation. Nick knew that the wry laugh was Hayden’s way of showing that he was nervous, and he had good reason to be. “What are we gonna do now?”
Nick shook his head. He didn’t know what to do. She’d seen them. They’d seen her. There was no changing that.
“It was her, right? I mean,” Hayden pulled his seat closer to his brother’s and rested his arms on his thighs, whispering, as if anyone could hear him, “my brain didn’t just make that up, did it?”
“No, that was her all right. Every last inch of her.” Shit, he thought. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
“Well shit!” Hayden said, throwing his hands over his head in frustration and what looked like defeat.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Willa?” Hayden inquired.
“Willa.” Nodding his head and studying the table top, Nick Kiel gave his brother the one conformation in the world he did not want.
“Willa.” As her name passed his lips, Hayden let his head drop to the table with a resounding thud. Nick glanced at him and felt the need to do the same. Who knew? Who knew that a simple, harmless night of beer, half-naked women and good-natured fun could turn into hell on Earth? It was just their luck.
Nick rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, rolled them back to his brother, who still had not lifted his head and then rolled them back into his head and closed his eyes.
I should have stayed at home, Nick chanted silently to himself over and over again. But he hadn’t, and now he was screwed like nobody’s business.
When two hearts are on the line, it’s double or nothing.
Buckling Down
© 2008 Moira Keith
A Wild Ride story.
Levi McKenna heads to Las Vegas with one simple goal: win the rodeo and cement his place in rodeo history. Then Lady Luck throws a wild card into the deck—Sydney Hart. Time and distance haven’t dulled the sharp edge of their attraction, but thanks to a long-ago promise, she will always be forbidden fruit dangling just out of reach.
Sydney wants to believe in fairy tales and happily ever after, but her past relationships leave her doubting such things exist. She’s ready to give up on love…until Levi walks into her bar. The man who’s always held the missing piece of her heart. Love may not be in the cards, but that doesn’t mean a girl can’t flirt.
Neither expected passion this hot, this fast. Yet once the cards are dealt, the only thing left to do is play them out—and see if they have a winning hand.
Warning: this book contains a sassy heroine, a scrumptious hero, blood, sweat, tears, not to mention…sex laced with Vegas heat.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Buckling Down:
A sweet southern voice laced with Texas twang came through the speakers.
“Watch out, Levi’s a real sucker for a true southern girl,” Justin said. A few of the guys at the table whistled and Levi foll
owed their stares over his shoulder towards the bar. He could not believe his eyes. The singer stood on the corner of the bar in a black tank top and low hip-hugging jeans that revealed a glimpse of her stomach. Long legs were accentuated by the fit of her jeans and red cowboy boots. Levi stared at her like a deer caught in headlights. She hopped off the bar and worked the crowd better than any entertainer he had ever seen.
“Sydney,” he whispered when those familiar light gray eyes locked on him. A smile crossed her face. The auburn haired beauty from his childhood made her way through the tables towards him. “Eye on the prize,” he reminded himself.
Damn if she wasn’t getting a reaction out of him. Desperately, he tried to remember the pact he’d made ages ago. Sydney sat on his lap, plucked the cowboy hat from his head, placed it on her own and wrapped an arm around his neck as she sang. Her body pressed against his. Focusing on anything other than the feel of her ass against his lap, the curve of her breast pressing into his chest and the sweet magnolia scent wafting off her skin was impossibility. After the longest minute of his life had passed, she winked, slowly slid off of his lap and headed towards the stage. Wolf whistles filled the air as she finished the song.
“Well, that’s definitely the best entertainment we’ve seen all evening. Seeing a woman have that kind of effect on Levi is worth a round of beers. I’m buying. Earth to Levi…” Justin nudged him. “Might want to wipe the drool from your chin and put your eyes back in your head.”
“I don’t believe it,” Levi murmured, staring after her.
“Believe what?” Justin asked, looking puzzled. “Game face on, Levi. Fans approaching.”
A few bar patrons asked for autographs. Levi never turned away fans, though he hoped to finish before Sydney disappeared from view. The band began to play again, but a male voice came through the speakers. Levi flicked his gaze up to the stage, located his hat and watched as it moved towards the bar.
“Excuse me guys, time to go fetch my Stetson.” Levi rose from the chair but lost sight of her as he made his way through the crowd. As he leaned against the bar, he spotted Dusty Hart, another face from his childhood, at the opposite end.
“Syd, get your ass back here already. Did you fail to notice the people three deep around the bar?” Dusty yelled out.
“Jesus, Dusty, no need to go birthin’ any cows.” A familiar, feminine voice answered back. Levi chuckled. She was still full of piss and vinegar. Glancing down the length of the bar, he caught a glimpse of Sydney’s long legs as she swung them over the bar, before dropping down into the trenches. Captivated by her movements, he watched as she took drink orders, tossed empty bottles over her shoulder to the trash, and made her way down the antiqued pinewood separating them. After all these years, it was harder to deny the attraction he had for her. Sydney continued towards him, exchanging drinks and money faster than he had ever seen.
“Hey angel, can I have my hat back?”
Those beautiful eyes met his and a sultry smile that promised nothing but trouble crossed her lips. “Are you kidding? I’ve got Levi McKenna’s hat. You know I could make a pretty obscene profit off this hat.”
“But you won’t,” he said, turning on the smile his assistant referred to as a real lady killer.
“That smile might work on them Hollywood girls you’ve been hanging out with, but I am immune to your charms, Mr. McKenna.”
A voice called out, “Hey Sydney, how about a kiss?” Though the tone in the man’s voice was playful, Levi’s jaw tightened. A slow intake of air eased his tension.
“You’re in the wrong place, mister. A few clubs downtown might be able to give you the action you’re looking for.” Sydney looked at Levi and rolled her eyes. “Some people. So, back to the hat, what makes you think I won’t sell it?”
Trying to hide her discomfort, Sydney pushed past the remark but not before Levi saw it. “Call it a hunch.”
“I guess we’ll just have to see about that, cowboy.” She handed a few beers across to a waitress, then turned and blew him a kiss. “I might just hang on to it as a memento.”
“Fine by me,” Levi thought, looking around. Dusty was no longer in sight. “So where’d the big man run off to?”
She jerked her head towards the opposite end of the bar. “Busy, but I’ll get him. Dusty, you got a guy down here wants to talk to the owner.”
“So deal with him,” Dusty yelled back.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” She winked at Levi.
Dusty’s voice grew louder, laced with irritation. “Well, why the hell not? You’re nicer than I am and much better to look at. Just take care of it, Syd.”
Levi watched the ease with which Sydney switched discussing fashion or sports, depending on who she served. The woman’s love and ability to talk about both made for a combination Levi found intoxicating and damn sexy. Of course, he had always found her an enticing little package. Nothing compared to southern charm in his books, and she had it in spades. Even the curses dripped with it as they fell from her tongue.
“Dusty, get your ass down here already!”
“God damn Sydney, you’re an owner. Tell the guy to get over it or take his macho bullshit out of here.”
Levi could hear the frustration in his friend’s voice, but knew he wouldn’t leave Sydney to deal on her own. An exasperated sigh escaped her and Levi had to forcibly bite his tongue. Dusty slowly moved in their direction, stopping occasionally to refill drinks.
“So what’s the deal, guy? Too macho to deal with Sydney…” Dusty’s voice trailed off as recognition slid across his face and his good-humored personality took over. He chuckled, “When the hell did you get to town?”
Levi studied his watch. “About four hours ago.”
“Here for the rodeo or slumming?”
“Rodeo. A few of the guys are at the corner table.” Levi looked towards the stage when the band began to play again.
“So, I need a rodeo in town before I can get your ass out here for a visit?”
“Hardly. Just been busy.”
“So I gathered. I follow the news. Movies, women and bulls leave little time for much else.”
“Can’t believe everything you hear or read, man. You know that.”
“True,” Dusty looked past him with a hunger in his eyes. Only one thing in the world, so far as Levi knew, elicited such a reaction from his friend. Dusty’s wife, Becca, stepped up next to him with a tray full of empty glasses. She still looked at Dusty as though he were the only man in the room. When she leaned over the bar to give Dusty a kiss, a pang of longing for what his friends shared crept up before Levi could stop it. “Becca, you’re as beautiful as ever. When you planning on leaving this lug and running away with me?”
“Why? You plan on growing up and settling down in the near future?” she asked, hugging him. “It’s good to see you, Levi. Where is she, Dusty?”
“Follow the trail of drooling men.” His tone held irritation, but Levi didn’t blame the guy. His sister had always been eye catching. Dusty turned back to him. “We make more money the nights she hops behind the bar. Damn guys ogle her like she’s serving them naked, though. It’s disgusting and yet, it’s hardly the worst part.”
Before Levi could ask what could be worse, Justin strolled up and slapped him on the back.
“Hey, Levi.”
“Justin, this is Dusty Hart, the owner of the bar.”
Justin shook Dusty’s hand. “Hey man, the singer is hot. I bet she makes you a lot of money in this joint.” Ignorant to the expression on Dusty’s face, he turned back to Levi. “We’re thinking about checking out some of the casinos, you game?”
“Nah, I think I’ll hang here and catch up with y’all later.”
“Mind if we take the limo?”
“Go ahead. I can catch a ride or call a cab.”
Justin’s exaggerated wink before he left could only mean one thing—he suspected Levi's reason for staying. Levi shook his head as Justin walked away. “Sorry, Justin�
�s mouth rarely checks with his brain first.”
Dusty shrugged. “No problem. So you’re gonna hang around?”
“Until you get sick of me or kick me out.” He settled onto the nearest cowhide barstool. “So what’s worse?”
A female voice came over the microphone and Dusty looked to the stage where Becca now stood.
“You’ll see.”
…all signs point North for Not-So-Saint Nick
Mistress Christmas
© 2008 Lorelei James
A Wild West Boys story.
In a rare moment of recklessness, mild-mannered accountant Holly North lets her best friend guilt her into filling in as Mistress Christmas at Sugar Plums, a Christmas-themed strip club. Fearing she’ll be recognized—or worse, considered a fraud—she dons a velvet mask along with the Mrs. Claus-meets-dominatrix costume. She’s shocked at how deliciously wicked anonymity feels.
Detective Nick West is determined to discover how his friend was supposedly robbed after a lap dance at Sugar Plums. His visions of revenge vanish faster than a flying sleigh upon his first peek at Mistress Christmas—a leggy brunette with smoky eyes and a lush mouth begging for hours beneath the mistletoe.
Their attraction flares hotter than a fireplace on a cold winter evening, and Nick is only too happy to oblige when Holly blurts out her one Christmas wish…
For a naughty secret Santa to sweep her away for a night of anonymous sexual pleasure.
Warning: This erotic comedy contains naughty holiday innuendo, creative use of garland, sexy love scenes hot as spiced cider, a heroine as sweet as sugared plums, and a wildly romantic hero with a great big…candy cane.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Mistress Christmas:
“I believe you mentioned something about buying me a drink?”
“Absolutely. What’s your pleasure?”
You. “I’m in the mood for peppermint schnapps.”
Strong, Silent Type_A Wild Ride story Page 11