A Harem of One [The Moreland Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Jennifer Willows

  Usually, she let her readers make suggestions on their personal favorites and, if she found herself intrigued with the blurb, would watch and feature the flick. The suggested movie she chose, Secretary, was a vast departure from her normal blog feature, but it called to her somehow. There was something about James Spader that she adored. Even now she enjoyed anything he was in. But she found the movie enthralling, and the unusual indie tack the film took is what made up her mind. She found herself even thinking about it later, wondering how someone could be willing to give complete control of their existence to another person. The hero dictated how much could be eaten during a meal at a particular time, and Jamison remembered one of the commands the heroine was given to eat four peas and a single spoon of mashed potatoes. The hero even regulated how the heroine would get home after work. The man told her to walk, and she did, and he punished her for every small mistake with glaring red pen strokes. By the time she got to the end and the couple finally made love, she was in dire need of Marq. But she wasn’t going to get any more of him until probably tomorrow.

  He told her he’d be in late, but he expected her in his bed when he got back. Woe and betide her if she actually disregarded the request, and she used the term sarcastically, rolling the wording he used over and over in her mind. Similar to worrying a loose tooth, she let his voice play in her head, prodding the sore spot his commands worked on her feminist leanings. The worst part was the fact that she actually loved the lack of control, not having to concern herself with most of life’s trivialities. By the time she right clicked the scheduler to set the blog update for her usual time, the doorbell was chiming. Makenzie was full of grins and giggles when Jamison opened the door.

  “Hey!” Apparently, her friend was überhappy to be walking on the wild side tonight.

  “Hey back, girlie.”

  Makenzie seemed just a hair too giddy, and a single good look into her eyes showed her that she was blazed. She must have been smoking weed. There was no way her eyes could have gotten that glazed on their own without help from Mary Jane. Jamie had a feeling that their night on the town was going to be one for the record books. If they didn’t find trouble, it was sure to find them tonight.

  No matter as Makenzie was shuffling her out of the door. In fact she barely allowed Jamison to turn off the lights as she exited. When they climbed in Makenzie’s new birthday present, a candy apple red Jaguar XKR coupe, and got on the road, Jamison had to ask.

  “Rush much?”

  “Look here, I haven’t been out in ages. Can an old married lady have some fun? Charyn never lets me go anywhere.”

  “Whatever, Makenzie. You don’t let that man out of your sight either. I bet you watch him use the bathroom.”

  “I outta kick your ass, Jamie. You lucky I’m fucked up.” But there was no heat behind the words, and they both laughed themselves silly until Jamison huffed for her next breath.

  “So where are we going anyway?” Shoot, Makenzie still hadn’t told her. Even when she was trying to get dressed, she had no idea what to get ready for.

  “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.” Jamison blew a breath out, irritated that she was going someplace and had no idea where to. Makenzie was in the captain’s seat, pushing the car to incredible speeds for simple North Carolina highways. They looped onto I-40, and the bullet of car leapt faster, eating the road in huge asphalt hunks that left Jamie near sick with vertigo during the relatively short trip. She missed Marq already, and he’d only been gone a few hours. He never drove erratically enough to make her car sick. By the time they made it to the club, she was grateful to leave the confines of the too-fast car.

  The hole in a wall was small and out in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t even look like a club, but more like a shack packed full of sardines. The only clue that this was where they were headed were the plethora of cars crammed every which way around the structure. Makenzie handed two tickets to a hulking male at the door, and a similarly built female patted them down and checked inside both of their small clutch bags. But when they got inside, the tiny place was jumping, and the packed house rivaled any party she’d been to before, if based on the number of people that could be crammed into a single square foot of space. There was barely enough room for them to slip inside the door, and there were numerous partygoers with their backs to the wall as they entered. The crowd was melting pot of people. All races and differing sexual orientations milled about. She made her way to the bar, seeking a strong drink, and mentally crossed her fingers that she could happen upon an unoccupied seat among the melee of people.

  When she finally was able, she purchased three long island iced teas as the wait was too long for her to come back after she’d finished the first one. When she took stock of the gathering, she noted there were dozens of people if not more. The only unusual thing she noted was that the women outnumbered men vastly. There were at least twenty women for every male she saw. It made her curious, but when she approached Makenzie, the music was too loud to pose her question about the disparity in the male-to-female ratio. By the time the volume was low enough to ask, the hostess had walked to the center of the floor with a mike in hand.

  “Hey, ladies and gents, are ya’ll ready to see some of the hottest men Kakilaki has to offer?” The crowd at large gave a resounding yes, followed by catcalls and screeches. When the group quieted, the MC laughed and backed away as the ladies grew excited and the crowd’s volume spurred to a fever pitch. By the time the MC called for the first performer, the catcalls and chirping had moved to a single chant.

  “Beefcake! Beefcake!” She even heard one excited woman yell out, “Where’s the beef!” Ugh. Makenzie had tricked her into a male revue. Damn it. That was some mess. Mak knew Jamie hated strippers.

  It just seemed so tawdry and pathetic, the idea of watching a grown man put himself on display without any hesitation or simple modesty. But that wasn’t the problem. Now she found that the swelling crowd had gotten even more riled up at the start of the music. The women had started yelling and screaming for more, and the man who came out looked ready to give it. His outfit seemed comical, even as he pretended to be in the room alone. The cowboy gear could have been convincing, except for the fact he was wearing ass-out chaps. What grown man would wear something so foolish? No real man, she thought, even as she made assessments on his lithe form. The man was a smidge puny and appeared incapable of breaking cattle or any of the other myriad things that ranch hands did.

  But if the idea was comical for the cowboy, the police officer was worse. His outfit seemed like a Halloween fashion don’t. The surgeon was next. He was cute, but his gyrations seemed contrived and a bit too feminine for her tastes. But the women around her were loving every minute of it. There were several making money shower around them, and dollar bills were pooling in the floor. Even Makenzie had gotten into it, and she threw out a fistful of ones with giddy laughter as the bills rained down on the faux fireman’s head. By the time he’d finished, the last performer had made way to the stage. The man was dressed as a dominant, complete with a half-face leather mask, and, with his burnished muscles, he could make any of the costumes she scoffed at earlier look good. He was dark-haired and eyed, the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. She had to admit, even she was enticed with his sensual spin and tango about the floor. He seemed coarse somehow, as if he were going to show everyone the dark side of their own fantasies. She had few left that were unexplored thanks to Marq, but the remaining handful would definitely be memorable.

  When the last dancer, Master, finished his set, even Jamie had given up a couple of her own hard-earned dollars. She saw Makenzie walk toward the door and decided to follow her. Before she could reach the exit, a hand clapped on her shoulder. She jumped and felt her heart speed up.

  “Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that you dropped this.” When Jamison turned around, she saw the Master standing in front of her in all his chocolate glory. She was stunned that he looked so normal outside of his costume
. She would think that with his profession. It would be evident on sight. When she peered at his hand, she saw her glasses. She must be drunk as a skunk if she thought she could navigate the world without them. She took the offering from his large hand with a murmur of appreciation and thanks. But when she turned away, the man wouldn’t let go of the grip he had on her arm.

  “I just wanted to give you this before you left as well.” He held out a card. When she glanced at the glossy cardstock, she saw his information along with a hand written number. “This is my personal cell phone number. I was hoping a fine thing like you would be single and maybe we could get to know one another better.”

  Jamie was perplexed for a moment. He was asking her out? Like on a date? Men never asked her out. The few boyfriends she had were guys she knew and hung out with, but even they had never asked her on a date. They would merely invite her somewhere or tell her where they would be, and if she came, she came. If she didn’t show, they really didn’t care. Except for Marq. He made her feel like she was the only woman in the world and every day with her was as important to him as the last one was. But it was heady that a man such as this one was giving her the time of day. He could have any of the people here. In fact, she saw nearly every patron dig deep into his or her pockets to toss him money. There was an assistant who ran the floor and stuffed money in garbage bags as the floor collected piles of bills. Any one of them would have taken him home tonight and screwed his brains out.

  “Thank you, for my glasses and everything. But I’m involved with someone right now.”

  “I thought so. You’re a beautiful woman. A nice girl and your type doesn’t date someone like me. You date men with honest jobs that don’t take their clothes off for money.” He looked really disappointed for a moment, but the face quickly transformed to a wicked grin and laughing eyes.

  “Would it make a difference if I said that I was paying my way through school?”

  Jamie laughed. That was definitely the oldest stripper motto, but the eyes spoke that he was being honest with her.

  “At this moment? No. If I weren’t with someone right now, it may. But you surely can find a decent woman that will like you?”

  “Yeah, they all like me. But few of them are what you would call good or decent. When the good girls see me, they want me. But just for one night only. Not for anything lasting.” His tone was flippant, but yet again his dark eyes spoke to pain he kept hidden beneath the surface.

  Jamie opened her wallet and offered him a card. It was the one she used for her blogging with only her online info. “If you want, feel free to e-mail me. But please understand that I won’t cheat, and the situation I’m in right now is temporary. But I can offer a mean conversation.” She smiled, and he gave a responding one, pearly whites sparking through his sensual lips.

  “I hope this guy understands how special you are. I rarely have a conversation where I’m more than a piece of something sexy. Almost like the Hustler mag with the legs hanging from a meat grinder. But you can call me anytime or ask me for anything that is in my power to give and it’s yours.”

  “Thank you. By the way, my name is Jamison.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jamison. My name is Duke.” They shook hands, and Jamie heard a horn beep. When she looked over, Makenzie was waiting in the low-slung sports car with the passenger window rolled down.

  “That’s my ride. Nice to meet you, Duke.” She walked away from the sensual and fathoms-deep man and climbed into the car with her friend so they could go home.

  Makenzie didn’t get too far up the back country road before the inquisition started.

  “So he’s the last dancer? What did ya’ll talk about?”

  Jamie laughed. This was going to be funny. “Actually he asked me to call him.”

  “Mmmm…So are you going to take him up on his offer?”

  “No, but he was a nice guy, not at all what I thought he would be.”

  “Now I have got to know, what did you think he’d be like? He’s a stripper, not an axe murderer. At least I’d hope not.”

  “Mak, you are crazy. I didn’t think he was a killer or anything. But I’d thought he’d be some kind of cheesy gigolo or something. Not a…”

  “Real person?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “So are you going to talk to him?”

  “If he e-mails me, yes.”

  “Okay then, what about Marq?”

  “That’s not going to matter soon, as he and I won’t be together.”

  “I don’t think that’s how he sees it.”

  “Makenzie, this situation is temporary. We are only together for the month, and I don’t see how me avoiding that is going to make a difference.”

  “Well, I don’t think you get it, but Marq really likes you.”

  “Of course he does, Makenzie. I’m his play bunny for two weeks.”

  Makenzie sighed and kept her mouth shut for the rest of the ride. Thankfully this drive was slower than the first one. When she got out of Makenzie’s car, her friend had a parting shot.

  “Don’t forget, tomorrow night you’re all mine, and bring Marq with you.” Jamison closed the door in an attempt to leave the words behind her. But they remained with her even when she got inside and stripped for bed. Since Marq wasn’t home, Jamison threw on one of his faded college T-shirts and hit the bed. The liquor and mind-blowing aspects of the evening hit her all at once, and she was asleep the instant her head hit the pillow. She dreamed of hot sex with Marq, him fucking her amid clouds and atmosphere. He whispered in her ear, the language so raw and coarse she felt scalded by it.

  “Fuck…You feel so good. Your pussy is so juicy. Listen to it slurp me.” She could hear it, the sounds of wet sex pervasive. Hearing the sounds only made her wetter, and she couldn’t hold back her groans from deep within her chest. It had gotten to the point where she felt too good. Everything felt too good. She had to come. But the dream dissolved around her before she could get off. Damn it.

  Frustrated, Jamie smacked the mattress with both fists. She needed that orgasm. This was going to suck. Where was Marq at anyway? As soon as the errant thought crossed her mind, she felt like a jackass. There was no way that she was going to let herself fall into that trap. She wasn’t going to let herself get attached to a semipermanent situation, no way, no how. She recited her personal mantra, “It’s only thirty days,” followed with, “You can survive anything for one month.” If a human being could live without eating for a month, she could survive Marques’s devastating hands, mouth, and cock for two more weeks as well. Or so she told herself, even as the thought crossed her mind of the flip side of the question she posed. What would she do once this was over? Even more telling was what she wanted to do, clench him tight with both hands and never let go.

  * * * *

  Marques was exhausted. He’d been here there and everywhere tonight in an attempt to gain the agreement of one Jed D. Thomas. Jed just happened to own an incredibly valuable property, if this deal went off without a hitch. Jed’s deceased father had won a piece of land in a poker game nearly forty years ago, and Jed had acquired said land after dear Father’s passing. The only problem was Jed refused to negotiate, and if Jed didn’t turn the land over within a week, there wasn’t going to be any money made. Not for Jed at any rate. A company that he partnered with on occasion was looking to build a shopping center. Said mall would need just a hundred feet, but the rest would be adequate for parking lots surrounding the businesses. Only problem was Jed wanted twenty thousand more than the highest estimate they were given, and the investors refused to offer anything more.

  If Jed opted not to take the deal in seven days, MoreLand and Co. was walking from the land. They already owned everything surrounding the several-acre lot, the land really wasn’t necessary to the success of the venture. The design of the center would allow for shifting the location a few hundred feet easily and patrons would never know the difference of how the property was meant originally to look. He would like to
help Jed make some money, but to Marq, time was money. Marq knew the man desperately needed the funds.

  If nothing else, Marq could find anything he wanted to know online about a person. He had two children, both in need next semester’s tuition, a broken-down caddy, and a running deuce and a quarter. Jed kept thinking that the offer would increase, but he was wrong. The major value of the land was its proximity to the area they were surveying. If he didn’t take the deal he offered, the next one was sure to be for less. At best, the land could be used for condos, but Jed didn’t have the money or know-how to pull it off. Although, Marq thought to himself, he did. It was actually a very good idea, and Marq decided to let the idea fly, even though it wasn’t fully thought out.

  Amazingly enough, even though the idea was only half ay formed, Jed accepted. Now the tricky part would be the investors. He would have to screen carefully through his usual contacts to see if any interest could be sparked.

  He was ready to go home and climb in the arms of the beautiful woman waiting for him. But Jed had other ideas and browbeat Marq into hitting up one club after another. Marq felt that he was too old to see women shake tits and ass in his face for money. It was a bit too trite for his tastes, a jaded businessman with an askew necktie watching women gyrate for a few dollars. But he went anyway, expecting to be underwhelmed. And he was, by the women, but his companion was another story. Jed was hilarious, as he watched the man fall over any and every woman there. He ended up spending several hundred dollars of Marq’s money on women, and half of his tab was liquor. Jed was a true country boy and able to drink most of the patrons under the table. By the time Marq nursed his single drink dry, two hours had gone by and he was chomping at the bit to get inside his own four walls. Then he would get inside the tight walls of Jamison before he went to sleep.