by Billy Storm
I say nothing as she approaches me. Instead, I start down the hallway toward my office. Punching in the code to the door, it beeps just before unlocking. Without looking, I know she’s behind me. Holding the door open for her, I can appreciate the little extra sway she puts into each step. Locking the door, I walk around her and lean against my large metal desk. It feels cool against my quickly heating skin, even through my shorts.
“What can I do for you, Melissa?” Her wide eyes show her shock that I remember her name. It’s no secret that I play the field, and it’s a guarantee that she’s heard the rumors. Not that I give a fuck. Actually, it’s the complete opposite. Let the rumors spread like wildfire, that way any bitch I end up fucking doesn’t expect anything else from me other than an orgasm, or hopefully, two.
“I think it’s about what I can do for you, Jaden.” If her words hadn’t sent a shockwave from my balls to my brain, I might have laughed at the hesitant look in her eyes. I’d bet the little bombshell had an internal game of war going on in her head, probably a little slut shaming slamming her. Women. I’ve got no problem sticking my dick where I feel inclined and all without shame or guilt, hell, I’ve stuck it inside Melissa before.
“Yeah? And what is that, girl?” I know I’m mocking her, and I know before she does exactly how she’ll react. First, she’ll want to let me know that she’s no fucking girl; no, she’ll show me exactly how much of a woman she is. Then, she’s gonna wanna prove to herself as much as to me that she can do this; she can own her sexuality like a fucking badge of honor—even if she goes home and cries about it later.
Selfish bastard that I am? I couldn’t give a shit about what she does later. Time to grow-up and deal with it, I figure. You wanna play grown-up games, you should be able to do so without apology.
I’ll give her credit; she hardly falters as she approaches me. When her timid hand reaches for my obvious hard-on, a genuine smiles spreads across her tanned face. That’s right, Melissa it’s all for you, even though I know that’s a lie. “You feel something you like?” I ask knowing damn well she does.
“I sure do, and I’ve got a couple of ideas about what we can do with it.” I’m sure she does, but I know what I want and couldn’t care less about what she wants. I’m not in the mood for anything else.
Without a word, I stand up and push my shorts to the top of my thighs and give her the look—the look that says go for it, sweetheart. When she just stares at me like she’s waiting for something more, I stroke my cock a few times with one hand while I push her by her shoulders to kneeling.
“Open up, sweetheart.” Her eyes flash, and I see that she’s as pissed as she is aroused. “Wrap those lips around my dick, Melissa and show me what’chya can do.” For a second, I’m not sure if she’s going to slap me or swallow me whole, and for some reason I don’t give a shit either way.
“I thought—”
I stop her before she can even go there. “You thought wrong. You want my dick, know that you can have it, but that’s all you can have, all I give.” When I laugh, she looks like she just may slap me after all. “I make no promises to any woman.”
Her face shows she’s not pleased, but I know, I fucking know, that she’s got something to prove to herself even more than to me. That’s fine; use me, sweetheart. Lord knows that’s all I’m doing.
Within seconds, her hot mouth encloses around the head—only the head. She tongues the hoop there and I close my eyes at the sensation it sends through my nerves. My piercing’s are three of the best things I’ve ever done in my life. Each one feels good to me but I know their power when buried inside some bitch’s pussy. They love ‘em. Their clit’s love em.
My Prince Albert is the one I love, so sensitive. She’s seen my piercings before but they haven’t been in her mouth, and within seconds, it’s clear that she’s never sucked a dick with metal in it before. I hate virgins of any kind. Feeling gracious, I help her out, or maybe it’s the fact that I need to come so bad, I have no doubt that my balls are blue. Either way, I start pumping my hips, pushing and pulling my cock in and out of her mouth.
When her hands push against my thighs, I know she’s trying to tell me not to push so deep, but that’s not how this goes. She came to me—not the other way around. And, I like it deep and I like it hard. I keep my pace and I feel her accept it.
Looking down at her, I can almost imagine it’s the black haired woman who has haunted me for weeks. Although, I don’t think she’d let me do as I please, well, not without a fight. That makes my dick twitch. I think the only way I’m gonna come is thinking about Skye. Just saying her name in my head has me thrusting harder against Melissa’s stretched pink lips. Lips that are nowhere near as full as Skye’s, eye’s that aren’t even as close to as sexy as hers either.
She gags repeatedly, but I don’t slow down. Fuck if I can, fuck if I want to. I picture Skye on her knees with my dick in her mouth, and that has me on fire. I can’t get enough; I can’t fuck her mouth fast enough. Every time she gags, her throat squeezes me, and I swear it’s that and the thought of another woman that gets me off. Fuck, I can’t even remember what this chick looks like with my eyes closed…I only see her, I only see Skye.
I don’t know why I say it, but I do. “Are you wet? That pussy getting wet as I fuck your face and picture someone else?” That did it. I feel her stiffen, and I know I’m a sick fuck as I pump so hard and fast the metal legs of the desk screech as they slide on the floor. Pushing as deep as she’ll take me, I shoot my come down her throat. Skye’s name on my lips as I hear Melissa choking on my jizz. Choke on it, gag on my cock, gurgle my come, and know it wasn’t for you.
She might have approached me, and she might’ve thought this would end differently, but I’m pleased I got what I wanted, what she offered. Yeah, she’ll have to deal with that fact later when she’s at home, hating me with a king-size chocolate bar.
Melissa let my spent and softening dick fall from her mouth. When I see my come running down her chin, I can’t help but think it looks wrong. I came in the wrong mouth and with the wrong female, but my dick isn’t as picky as my head, apparently.
“What in the fuck was that?” she practically yells at me as she wipes her mouth and chin with the tissue I hand her from the box on my desk. See, I’m not a total dickhead.
Without looking up from where I clean myself up with another tissue, I shrug and say it as simply and as honestly as I can. “That was me giving you what YOU wanted and what I needed. That’s what that was, sweetheart.”
I look up when she throws the balled up tissue against my chest. “You are an asshole!” She yells and I laugh, I fucking laugh.
An asshole, huh? Skye was right. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
**Skye**
Feeling much better than I did last night, I dance around my apartment like one of my girls on the pole. Even I shake my head at that idea. I know my limitations after all. Now, don’t get me wrong I’ve never lacked for male attention. Plenty of guys are attracted to bigger girls—no joke.
I’ve been hit on at the club more times than I can count. But there I know I just may be their last hope for pussy after a night of watching gyrating bodies that they really desire. Not my deal. Not my problem and not interested. The last thing I need is to be some kind of consolation prize. Screw that nonsense. I’m thick, I’m fat—whatever, but I’m not desperate.
Whoever said a fat girl couldn’t be sexy was sadly mistaken. I work around damn near perfect bodies, so it was only natural I fought my own feelings of inadequacies. But I’ve conquered them. I was sick of hating the woman I am, rather the woman I was. It was a choice I decided to make, a choice to accept myself as I am. Whoever doesn’t like it can literally kiss my fat ass. Cranking the volume up, I get lost in the music, lost in the sensual feel the low bass gives me. I make my way down the hall and into my room as I shimmy and shake what my mama gave me. About all she ever gave me.
Saturday nights are the busiest at Pinkies and my best ti
p night. Rummaging through my closet, I slide one hanger after another draped in black fabric. Black is slimming, right? That’s bull, but it’s what I love so I let myself be clothed in the delusion.
Four hours later, I’m two and a half hours into my first shift and I’ve already made more in tips than half of what I make at the diner in a week. Hopefully, soon enough I can quit my job there, but for now, I’ll suck it up. Four more payments and my car is mine clear and free, paying off the five-year loan in just under three years. My only debt will be in the home I’m buying and that payment is doable. Unlike my mother, I will never rely on a man, ever. I’m creating my destiny—not just falling into it. That I refuse to do.
“Miss? Miss?” I hear over my shoulder; duty calls. Without even looking at the man who called, I mindlessly walk to his table and ask for his drink order: seven-seven on the rocks. My thoughts aren’t on my job today. Instead, I’m running through my checklist, everything I need to do before the big moving day. Even without my family around next Saturday, I know there will be a crew at my door. Friends fill in where family falls short. And, they do so outta choice rather than obligation.
“Sunny? Darlin’?”
Looking up, I see Nate behind the bar looking at me. “Sorry, what, Nate?” He motions toward my tray and for the first time I see he’s already filled the few drink orders I’d taken. “Whoa. Where did I go, huh?”
His eyes show his concern before his heavy hand settles over mine on the shellac bar top. “You okay, Sunny?”
I know my smile is weak, but I still give him one. “I’m fine—just thinking.”
“You’ll be fine; I know it. You’re ready for this.” He winks at me. “I’ll be there Saturday before my shift starts at four and I’ll bring a friend who has a truck. We’ve got this, no worries.”
I mouth a silent thank you when the music starts back up and the bass practically blows me over. This song always bowls me over, but I want to deliver my orders so I can watch Eden dance. She reminds me that there’s an art form here, an athlete mixed with an artist. She’s always been so much more than a naked girl on the stage.
I drop off the two drink orders without a hitch. Mr. Seven-Seven doesn’t go quite as smoothly. “What’s your name, sugar?” He asks me as I set his drink down on the cardboard coaster in front of him.
“It’s definitely not sugar, I’ll tell you that.” I’m used to the flirting, and I’m not bad at it myself, but I’m far from in the mood. “Sunny.”
He leans forward pointing to his ear and asks for my name again. For the first time, I look at him. Oh. My. God. He is one beautiful man. Piercing green eyes, full lips but not to big either, buzzed hair and a day’s growth of beard dusting his jaw. Mercy. Unlike before, he has my full attention now.
Bending closer, I say my name again, and I feel him shudder when I speak against his ear.
“Sunny?” he asks to be sure, and all I can do is nod. “Sunny, huh?” When he turns to face me, I see he lets his eyes brush over me. Across my face, down to my ample chest, then, he continues until he hits my shoes before he speaks again. “You’re not gonna tell me your real name are you, beautiful?”
I’d be okay if he wanted to call me beautiful instead of my name, my fake name.
Shaking my head at his question, he smiles. “I didn’t think so.” Extending his hand, I shake it as he stands up. This time he puts his lips against my ear. “I’m Rhett, and that’s my real name, but you can call me whatever you like and I’d bet I’d still answer, beautiful.” I’m positive that my eyes rolled back into my head when he rubbed his stubbled cheek across mine before taking his seat again.
“Everything okay here, Sunny?” Cal asks as he approaches the table. The only response that I’m capable of is to smile and nod. The man had turned me into some kind of fucking bobble head.
“How you doing, Cal?” Mr. Seven-Seven knows my boss? “Remember me?” I watch as Cal’s face lights up like the Fourth of July.
“Rhett? Rhett Baxter? Is that you, you sorry sonuva bitch!” Cal practically tackles the man. The two did that weird man hand grab hug thing that only men do before sitting back down. “Sunny, I want you to bring Rhett anything he wants, and it’s on the house.”
Just as I’m about to agree, Rhett speaks. “I’m not sure that’s possible, Cal.”
“And why the hell not?” My boss looks from Rhett then back to me. I’m clueless, and all I can do is shrug.
“See the thing is, Cal, what I want is this beauty’s name and her number.”
I’m not sure if Cal or Rhett’s smile is bigger when they both look up at me standing there like a freaking idiot not knowing what I should do next. “Sunny.’ I hear Cal tell him…again.
“Cal, you forget who you’re talking to here. I want her real name.”
Cal shakes his much-gelled head as he bellows his laughter. “That’s up to her, Rhett, up to her.” When Cal pulls a third chair over from a nearby table, he motions for me to sit. I am so confused about what the hell is happening, but at least I can watch the rest of Eden’s set.
I listen for a minute as the two men talk. Turns out that Rhett had worked at the club just over four years ago, leaving just before I’d been hired. Shame. He would’ve been fun to look at during work hours. When Eden’s music slows, I know she’s at the part that takes my breath every time.
Chapter Five
**Skye**
When I feel a tap on my shoulder, I turn and see Rhett just inches from my face. Where had Cal gone? I look around, and I hear him chuckling. “Something funny?”
“Yeah, you are, beautiful.”
Just because he’s annoying me, I remind him. “It’s Sunny, by the way.”
“No, no it isn’t, and I know that as much as you do…beautiful.” He does have a point there, but no way would I let him know that. “You a lesbian?” His question has me gaping at him. What. In. The. Fuck.
I’m not sure why, but I feel like I want to torment him. “That would be none of your business,” I reply. This time when he looks me over I feel it even more. I’m still unsure what his game is, but whatever the hell it is, he’s awfully good at it.
His thick finger lifts my chin before he locks those killer eyes on mine. “I’d say it is my business when I plan on taking you out.” A slow grin appears on his face, and I see how good-looking he really is. “As pretty as you are, I don’t think it’ll do either of us any good if you play for the other team.”
The man is incorrigible, yet very charming. Charming? Since when do I use words like that? Then, it hits me…fucking Disney strikes again. I’m well aware that there is no Prince Charming and don’t let myself be swept away by this good-looking stranger. No matter how much I’d love to be swept away. God, I’d really loved to be swept away.
“I need to get back to work.” Standing, I push my chair in, grab my tray, and without so much as a second glance, walk away.
Throughout the night, I kept Rhett’s seven-sevens coming until he waved me off when I asked him if he’d like another. Finally, I was into my third hour of my double shift. Why did I agree to this? Even I know I’ll do it again because well, it’s what I do, but dammit I’m allowed to complain about it.
Just when I think I’m in hell? I see Candy—yeah, she goes by Candy. How original for a stripper, huh? Anyway, talk about raving bitch. That is one woman I’d like to see fall off the pole while hanging upside down. She really thinks she shits roses and kittens. What? It’s true. Posies and puppies, better?
For the first time all night, I was thankful I’d picked up Kennedy’s shift because if I hadn’t, I’d have missed the heel of Candy’s ridiculously tall six-inch heel snapping completely off. The best part? Well, that’d have to be the part where she reached for the brass pole to save herself from falling but tragically missed by at least a foot and face planted on the stage. I’m not saying I laughed until I cried, but I am on my third tissue and my eyes are burning from my mascara.
“You are not as sw
eet as you look are you?” I hear over my shoulder; I already have that voice memorized…Rhett.
I turn toward him and answer the only way I can think of. “I never claimed to be sweet.” Disguising his laugh, he rubs his jaw and stares at my feet—yes, my feet. “You like my shoes or something?” I turn my toes one way then the other.
This time there was no concealing his laughter. “Yeah, maybe I do, and by the way, only sweet girls wear sneakers like those, beautiful.”
“Oh really? What am I supposed to be wearing?” I know I’m just egging him on, but for some reason, I want to. Rhett’s playful, and I like that in a man.
I watch him as he looks around the room. Searching every female in the room and examining her footwear. “Every other woman here is wearing extremely sexy high heels.”
“So they are, but have they worked over fifty-seven hours this week while wearing those sexy heels?”
I watch as what I said sinks in, and I see approval looking back at me. Not sure why I like seeing approval in Rhett’s gaze, but I do. Even though he doesn’t reply, I can’t help but continue. “I have sexy heels myself, but I only wear them when the occasion calls for them.”
Raising one dark eyebrow, he questions me. “What kinda occasion would that be, beautiful?”
I try not to let my insides quiver every time he calls me beautiful, but fuck if that’s not one of the most powerful words known to man or beast.
When I stop staring at his lips like I’m internally begging him to say that magical word again, I realize he’s staring at me. Oh crap! He’s waiting for an answer; that’s right. “Occasion to wear heels?” I ask like a complete dipshit. He nods, but I can tell by his face that he’s enjoying my discomfort all too much. I do believe it’s time to burst that bubble. “Why, sex of course. What else—“ Leaning in, I brush a fake piece of lint from his shoulder and whisper, “Rhett,” near his ear.