“I am so trying not to be a hater right now.”
The MC came back out. “Ladies, we know you love animals. Our next man, Brady, has no worries that you’ll save a horse and ride a cowboy.”
Victoria had to admit Brady was hot. Ava seemed to be of similar mind but lost her head as he approached their section, screaming and waving like a thirteen-year-old at a boy band concert. The show wasn’t what she expected. In fact it was like a concert with lights and blaring music. Male dancers who looked great in a thong but wouldn’t make it past the auditions for So You Think You Can Dance replaced musicians who could barely play an instrument or carry a tune but had long hair and looked hot. The revue might be a little burlesque, but definitely not the seedy spectacle she imagined. Victoria was having a great time.
So was Ava. She had attracted the attentions of the cowboy. Brady had blonde hair that only a surfer could achieve and had more muscle than Russ did. But Victoria preferred Russ’s lean sinewy frame that came from swinging a hammer versus pumping a barbell.
Brady reached out his hand. Ava didn’t need to be pushed. Not even a nudge. In fact if jumping up on stage was an Olympic sport she would win the gold medal. Victoria laughed as Ava turned to her and mouthed ‘thank you.’
She motioned the waitress over and ordered two apple martinis.
Victoria’s cell phone vibrated and she checked the name. Neil. She felt bad for not calling him back but it was a busy day on set. Liar. You didn’t want to tell him what happened with Russ. She couldn’t take the call now. For one she wouldn’t be able to hear a thing and two Neil, while he’d excuse her for lying about her sex life, he would never forgive Victoria for going to a male revue without him. He’d been trying to convince her to go as his cover. Sure, there were plenty of strip clubs for gay men, but Neil hated them.
She made a promise to herself that she’d take him here once he got back as a welcome home present. Victoria was sure Ava would have no problem tagging along. Feeling less guilty with a plan in place, she texted Neil a quick message. Can’t talk—LOVE YOU.
The reply from him was immediate. “You are so DEAD.”
Victoria laughed while she put the phone away. Turning her attention back to the stage, she wasn’t shocked to find Ava, a card carrying member of PETA, sitting astride Brady and riding him like a cowgirls gone wild video, doing her part to save a horse. She wasn’t sure who was having a better time.
The drinks arrived as Ava sat back down. Beaming as she swept her glass off the table she shouted, “I don’t hate you anymore.”
“SO?”
“About eight.”
“Nice.”
“It’ll do.”
“We are so bad.”
They clinked glasses. “It’s about freaking time!”
Next up came a gladiator, fireman, doctor, biker, and an archaeologist who wanted to find their secret treasure. Russ had already found hers and none of the other dancers attracted her but she enjoyed watching them for the eye-candy that they were. She assumed there was a finale where all the men came out at once and she couldn’t wait to see Russ again.
“It’s Raining Men” rocked the theater and they all came out wearing tuxedos. A very appropriate song, thought Victoria. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as an older lady climbed up on stage and started tearing at Brady’s clothes. Oh my God! Was that Mrs. McPherson from the design studio? Oh my God! This must be where she recognized Russ from. Had she made the connection yet? Had she spotted Victoria? No, the woman was clearly after Brady. An old man who Victoria guessed was her significant other made his way up to the stage, putting his fists up ready to fight Brady. As politely as he could, he returned the lady to the gentleman, but her grip was so tight Brady nearly fell off the stage.
“It’s a good thing her husband got her off the stage. I wouldn’t want to be arrested for scratching out the eyes of senior citizen,” joked Ava.
Russ and Brady bee-lined for the VIP section, dancing in front of them. Then in a perfect synchronized moment the dancers whipped off the shirts and after two more beats, the pants. The thongs looked like little tuxedoes. Victoria laughed. They looked so cute. Though she knew the men would find the word ‘cute’ offensive.
The show ended and an announcement was made that the dancers would be available for photos in ten minutes. Victoria had to leave now. The longer she stayed the greater the chance of being recognized. Mrs. McPherson could still be lurking somewhere.
Ava waved a slip of paper in the air. “Brady sent me a message. They want us to meet up after.”
“I can’t stay.”
Ava blew out a breath. “I know.”
“Don’t worry, I can take a cab home.” No worries at all since Russ would not be far behind, she thought.
“That’s why you’re my BFF.”
Victoria hoped this would give Ava the incentive to dump Josh. He didn’t deserve her. She gave her a hug and promised to call her in the morning. If Brady asked too many questions of why the foursome became a twosome then Ava would distract him easily enough.
Spotting Mrs. McPherson, Victoria ducked toward the exit. Had the older woman put one and one together and come up with the couple she met just the other day? Did she recognize Russ? Victoria? Russ had and he barely knew her and if Russ recognized her, had anyone else? Victoria knew she should have stayed at home. And while she skulked out of the theater Russ was probably surrounded by a dozen women all vying for his attention.
Could anything else go wrong?
As Victoria came out the door, a flash from a camera blinded her eyes.
Chapter 20
Russ stood outside Victoria’s studio wondering what to do. They were either too busy fighting or groping each other to think of trading cell phone numbers or finalize any plans for a clandestine hook-up. He was disappointed she hadn’t hung around after the show even though he knew if not understood her need for secrecy. Russ didn’t see a separate doorway to the upstairs apartment. The memory of her hands gliding over his body in front of the screaming audience had him revved up and there was only one woman he wanted to expend all that energy on. A light shone from the back of the store, so, since he wasn’t Spiderman, he tried the buzzer at the entrance to the studio.
In a flash the door opened and he was tugged inside. The door slammed shut and the lock clicking shut sounded behind him as he regained his balance. She was strong for a little thing. “Patience is not one of your virtues, is it?” He smiled as he pulled her into his arms, happy that she was just as anxious as he was to get it on. “Not that I mind.” He bent to kiss her, to show her how much he didn’t mind, but her hand shot up to cover his mouth.
“Did anyone see you come in here?”
Looking down at her hand he mumbled but she didn’t take the hint so he licked the palm of her hand. Victoria jumped back, wiping her hand on the same jeans she wore earlier, along with the pink fuzzy 1950’s type shirt, but the blonde wig and contacts were gone. Instead of the desire he should see in her eyes, he read anxiety and a bit of panic. “What’s going on?”
“Did anyone see you come in here?” she repeated. “Were you followed?”
He took two steps forward and gripped her arms in concern. “Followed? Victoria, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She pulled away and walked over to the display window and peeked out.
“No one is out there. What’s this all about?” Russ wanted to hold her. Protect her. What was it about her that brought out this side of him? Was it simply the fact that she was barely five foot two? Or was it something more? Deeper?
She turned back to face him. “As I was coming out of the club someone took my picture.”
Is that all? He held in a sigh of relief since it was important to her. “You think they recognized you?”
“I don’t know.” She paused for a moment looking away then her gaze shifted back to Russ. “You did.” Victoria stared at him like he was one of those cupcakes.
Would she
lick him just as thoroughly? His cock twitched. Any woman who devoured a cupcake the way she did had to give a great blow job. His gaze automatically dropped to her lips. His dick grew uncomfortably hard. He wanted her delicate hands to urge him even harder before that mouth enclosed around him. Hot. Wet. Warm. Stop thinking about it. Too late. He wondered if there was such a thing as anti-Viagara. “Said I’d know you anywhere. What’s up with you and the press anyway?”
She took two steps and she was back in his arms, her hands slid up around his neck and she leaned into him. “Had problems with paparazzi making up stories.”
Russ was no stranger to being tabloid fodder back in Australia. See and you were worried you had nothing else in common besides mind-blowing sex. He didn’t care about the rumors, but he was curious enough to ask, “What kind of stories?”
His hand closed around her breast, though the texture of the sweater prevented Russ from getting a good hold.
“Do you want to talk or have sex?”
His hand slipped under her shirt. “Is that a trick question?” Since she obviously did not want to tell him, he decided it would be simple enough to Google her later. Much later. Russ bent down to kiss her, his lips meeting hers in a smash as Victoria attacked his mouth like she was out of air and needed to steal his breath away. Kissing her with the same passion, he fumbled to find a wall, chair, or table, anything, so he could make love to her. Her need turned him on, generating a powerful force within him to take her now.
“Ouch.” Victoria bumped into a counter.
“Sorry,” he mumbled into her neck as he kissed her in that spot that made her squirm in delight.
“Do you think we can make it to a bed this time?”
“A bed? I knew you were high maintenance.” Easily lifting her, though he made a face like it was a great chore to do so.
She laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist. “So says the man with the sequined thong.”
The warmth from her body pressed up against him. He couldn’t wait to dive into her heat. “Not my idea. Standard issue.”
“Well, there’s nothing standard issue about what’s behind the razzle and dazzle.”
“Why, thank you for noticing.”
“Kind of hard not to.”
Russ enjoyed her naughty humor. When he sat across from her in the conference room he’d bet his bank account she didn’t have a funny bone in her luscious body. Why the act? Why didn’t she want the world to see the Victoria he was coming to know? What was Victoria’s secret? Hmmm, men have asked that question ever since the advent of the catalogue. Which made him wonder what she was wearing underneath her clothes. He stumbled. “Whoa.”
They reached the steps. “You can let me down.”
“I got you.” At least he hoped he did. She was light as whipped cream but maneuvering up the steps while she nibbled on his ear made him want to take her on the stairs. They reached the top and she opened the door. Curious to see how the diva designer designed her own home, he gently placed her feet on the floor as he noted the décor of the open living space. While not Architecture Digest ready, the living area was sophisticated, but comfy with soft cream walls making it the perfect backdrop for the large artwork hanging on the walls. He wondered if the paintings were her creations. The space was tastefully done—that is if it weren’t for the mess strewn about. Not at all what he expected. He had to stop filtering everything she did by his first impression. “Bonzer.”
“Thanks. But the boudoir is this way.” Victoria tugged on the band of his jeans and walked backwards leading him down a short hallway as she eyed him up and down. “There’s something I need you to fix.”
“At your service.” They entered the bedroom. The queen sized four-poster bed beckoned. A vision of her tied up, spread out before him, at his mercy invaded his already erotic thoughts. But it looked like Victoria had her own agenda.
She helped him off with his shirt and she tossed it, adding to a pile of clothes in the corner. If she was trying to create a new design trend called Slobby Chic she succeeded. “Looks like you need a maid, not a handyman.”
“Do you want a maid or a lover?” Victoria pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs.
It was one of the questions that didn’t need to be answered, but he couldn’t help teasing her. “Are you wearing a French Maid outfit?” He pulled off her shirt. Ah, a pink lacey push up bra. To match the sweater. Did she always color coordinate?
“No.” She went to work on his belt.
“One of those topless maids?” He unhooked her bra with an expert single flick of his fingers. He preferred skin-to-skin contact.
“Not happening.” Button undone, zipper down.
“Blonde wig?” That earned him a smack to the chest. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m kidding. I prefer the real you.”
“No need for such flattery. You had me ‘at your service.’ Now shut up and lose the pants.” Victoria’s eager hands helped him with the task. “Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“Your cock. Being confined in that torture sling called a thong.”
That dirty word coming out her hot mouth made said cock throb in agony. “I suffer for my public.”
“So very noble.” Victoria pulled out his dick that was hard and ready to go, but apparently playtime wasn’t over yet. Victoria smiled. “Very noble.” Her fingers wrapped around the base and squeezed softly up. “There, isn’t that better?”
“Much,” he managed to say.
Her feminine giggle barely registered. Her artist hands stroked instinctively like she was a genius creating a masterpiece. He looked down to see the results. Yep, a masterpiece of a hard-on. She was saying something but all he heard was the roar of blood rushing through his body. “Victoria, you can keep on … ahhhh man … talking but I can’t promise I’m listening.”
“Wet … massage … mouth.”
Now that he heard. Or at least those were the parts he heard.
Her lips trailed down the length of him then her tongue licked up. The sensation cause his hips to reflexively jerk up and his dick hit her in the face. “Sorry.”
She gripped him firmly with one hand and repeated the process—lips down, tongue up until he thought he would go mad. Maybe, that was what she was aiming for. To drive him mad. Her past boyfriends were probably in mental institutions babbling incoherently to themselves. Then her sweet mouth finally engulfed him and that’s when the real torture began.
To save his sanity, he stopped her; crazy, he knew. See, you’re already crazy.
Besides, if he came now, he knew he’d be no good for the rest of the night. He’d be done.
Toast. He pulled her off; drawing her up against him, then flipped her onto her back. He needed to be inside her now. To stop the madness. He pointed to her. “Clothes off. Me, condom.” He spoke like a caveman, but that was all he was capable of at the moment. Standing up the head rush hit him hard. He stumbled to his jeans. Russ was not amused when Victoria laughed. Soon she wouldn’t be laughing, she’d be moaning, she’d be the one to go mad. He pulled out his wallet, slipped the condom out of the fold and tossed the wallet in the same vicinity of his shirt. By the time he had the condom rolled on she had done as he asked. As soon he was inside her he knew he’d be better. Sane.
With a finger he tested to see if she was wet enough for him. She was. Thank God.
Still he’d enter her slowly so her body could adjust to his size. It amazed him that her petite body could accommodate him. Russ smugly knew his size threw the average off for penis length. Victoria cried out in pleasure and he reached the end of what he could handle. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she clutched him in a desperate embrace. They were both at the end of their limits. Finding a rhythm that didn’t tax his control was impossible but in the end it was Victoria, frantically urging him to go faster, that tested him. Increasing the pace to match the wild beat of their hearts, Russ was quickly, powerfully falling in l
ove but skidded at the edge of the precipice. He would not fall let alone jump over willingly. His body, he would give freely and but his heart would not be enslaved so easily. The rest of who he was poured into her as they climaxed together; their bodies glistening in a sheen of sweat.
He pulled her on top of him and she snuggled into his chest. His heart clenched. Stay away from the edge. In fact, take two steps back. No, run. Instead, he stroked the curve of her neck, stupidly happy that she didn’t try to pull away from him like she did the first time.
“I’ll be right back.”
The slight sway of her hips drew Russ’s gaze like a hypnotist swinging an object in front of his eyes. Except, he wasn’t getting sleepy. In fact, as he watched Victoria’s delectable backside disappear into the bathroom he realized he was already hard again. Damn, he’d used his last wellie. He hoped she had her own supply. Preferably an unopened box. For reasons he cared not to explore, he didn’t want to think of the last man who shared Victoria’s bed. Being the most obvious and convenient place for a condom, he opened the nightstand drawer and rifled through the contents. What do we have here?
He pulled out a large vibrator. No wonder he’d fit inside her, the girl had been in training. He smiled. Russ would’ve felt inadequate if he wasn’t hung like a porn star. Flipping the switch, it buzzed to life in his hand. Of course, his cock couldn’t do that. Frowning over the fact he was jealous over a battery-operated penis, he didn’t initially react as the door swung open.
What was worse, having your girlfriend catch you holding her vibrator or smiling at her when she did? Was there even a correct etiquette? He’d bet none of the men’s magazine had ever covered that topic.
Chapter 21
Victoria threw on the silk robe hanging from the hook in the bathroom. The material slid smoothly across her tingling skin. She tightly knotted the belt in hopes of stopping the throbbing of need in between her legs. It wasn’t enough. The more he gave the more she wanted. Russ’s cock was like a syringe filled with pleasure drugs and she needed another fix. Now.
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