When he opened his eyes, he found his brother wearing a knowing grin.
Mason could hear Magenta too.
Quake eyed his naked ass. “You finished already?”
“Just getting started,” Mason boasted.
“That makes two of us . . .”
2
Earlier that evening . . .
Rory looked in the mirror and checked her tassels. Her transformation to Magenta was complete.
“One minute!” Madam Belle’s last call echoed down the hall to the dressing room. Cinnamon was already gone. Turning off her phone, Candy pranced to the door, eager to strut her stuff.
Rory forced herself to move. Work paid her bills plus some. Every penny she could spare went in her savings account, drawing interest, bringing her one day closer to realizing her dream of being her own boss.
Stripping had paid her way through school. Sadly, after graduating with a degree in business and a minor in computer science, no one could begin to match what Madam Belle offered to pay. Being a red maned wolf—neither a wolf nor a fox—she was already a loner, an orphan with no den or pack. She answered only to herself, Madam Belle, and the men who paid top dollar to sleep with exotic shifters like her.
Wham, bam, screw you, ma’am.
Not that she expected to be thanked.
Or get off.
They paid for their pleasure, not hers.
Tonight would be no different, crooning in their ears, feeding their egos with lies about their tiny dicks and how good they felt. Granted, a few were bigger than others. Nothing like the Hell’s Fury bikers who paid for Candy’s time. She didn’t have dildos that big. She couldn’t imagine taking two of them at once, but Candy couldn’t get enough. She looked forward to when they’d saved up enough for another round.
Rory fell into line behind her.
“They’re here,” Candy whispered, almost giddy with excitement.
Rory arched a brow, pretending she didn’t know. “Who’s here?”
“Hell’s Fury, silly! Amos saw ‘em pull into the parking lot and sent me a text. He thinks it’s a shame none of those gargoyles swing both ways. He’d love a taste of gargoyle cock and ass. He’s got the hots for that President of theirs. He was disappointed Stone isn’t here, just Mason and Quake.”
Candy’s favorites. Rory wished they could afford her time. One night is all it would take to satisfy her curiosity. See what all the fuss was about.
Why did all the guys with big money have such small dicks? It wasn’t fair.
“You’re on!”
Madam Belle pointed a finger, sending a shower of fairy dust into the air. It bathed them as they walked through it, heightening their senses and making them irresistible to the patrons who’d come.
Cinnamon took the stage to her left. Candy was to her right. The two of them started their routine and got the crowd pumped before Rory stepped onto the center stage, walking down the middle like she owned it. She danced. Stripped. Tried not to let curiosity get the better of her and see how the gargoyles were enjoying the show. She made love to the audience. Made love to the stripper pole, pretending it was a gargoyle or centaur cock that she was riding.
Yeah, she liked them big. Big and hard and needy.
She was down to her tiny excuse of a thong when their number ended. Working the stage, she let men stuff money into it, pulling back when they tried to steal a feel. She made it three-fourths of the way through when a guy in a custom-made suit pulled out a wad of bills as thick as her thumb and tucked it by her twat.
“I’ll see you later,” he rumbled. “I booked the VIP treatment with Belle. Get ready, sweetheart. What you need is coming your way.”
Rory felt her eyes roll. In one form or another, she’d heard that line hundreds, maybe thousands of times. But business was business. A quick look at Madam Belle confirmed that this was her john for the night.
Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.
She’d give him a half-hour at best. A fake orgasm to hasten his finish and a pat on his ass when he was done. As soon as he left, she could finish herself off with her vibrator. Most of the men who paid for her time didn’t bother touching the devil’s doorbell. Vaginal and clitoral orgasms were an abstract for them. For once, she’d like a man who knew how to use a goddamn dental dam to give her oral pleasure.
Chances were, he wasn’t it.
Sigh.
She smiled at him anyway, looking at him like he was the most important man in the world. As far as Madam Belle was concerned, he was. Men like him paid the bills and helped The Pole Barn stay in business.
She walked off the stage several hundred dollars richer. Heading back to the dressing room with her discarded tassels in hand, she freshened up in the shower room, voiding, washing off, and brushing her teeth. He’d paid for Magenta. The makeup would stay.
Finding what she was looking for, she rolled on a pair of thigh-high hose and clipped them to her garter belt. A tawdry pair of panties and matching bra came next. Slipping on a see-through robe, she headed for the VIP room upstairs.
Just her luck, Candy’s room was next door.
Magenta was still waiting for her john to show when footsteps sounded in the hall. Candy’s door opened and closed. From the sounds of things, she was in for a good time.
A double portion of gargoyle meat was on the menu tonight.
Rory’s john didn’t bother knocking, not when he’d paid top dollar for her.
Away from the dim lights of the club, she recognized him as Franklin Worth, a charismatic trust fund baby who’d followed his daddy into politics. The tall, dark, and rather handsome thirty-nine-year-old senator was up for reelection next year. She wondered what his constituents would say if they knew he frequented strip clubs and paid for sex. Even if they learned it, they still wouldn’t know that The Pole Barn was owned and staffed by supernaturals.
They were careful to retain their human forms at all times while they were working. While shifters recognized each other and kept their secrets, their human customers stayed blissfully unaware.
Closing the door behind him, he loosened his tie and slipped it off. “You are so goddamn beautiful, Magenta. I couldn’t take my eyes off you tonight.”
Rory smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself.” From his muscles, she figured he worked out. Probably with a personal trainer, considering the money he had.
Lips lifting at the corners, the senator smirked. “When my friend suggested this place, I thought he was crazy, but I’m happy I took his advice.”
Sauntering toward him, she eased off his jacket and helped him unbutton his shirt. The quicker he was naked, the sooner this would be over. Hooking her fingers in the waistband of his trousers, Rory tugged him toward her. “Ready to have your world rocked?” she purred.
Eyes on her face, he licked his lips and nodded. “Hell, yes!”
Unbuckling his belt, she lowered his zipper, taking his underwear and trousers down to his knees in one go. He was surprisingly on the big side as cocks went.
When his hands settled on her shoulders and pushed down, Rory shook her head.
“You need to wrap up first,” she told him, nudging her chin at the foil squares on a table within easy reach.
“I’ll pay you extra,” he offered with a wink. “Five hundred dollars if you take me bareback. Okay, a thousand.”
Rory resisted rolling her eyes. Why did every rich asshole think they could bribe her with more money? “Not an option, sorry.”
His disappointment was short-lived when she grabbed a condom, ripped it open, and rolled it over his length. The senator hissed out a breath, hips jerking forward at her touch. If she was lucky, he’d explode before her jaw started to ache.
Giving him a sultry look, she cupped her lace-covered breasts and sank sexily to the floor. Keeping eye contact, she wrapped a hand around his girth, feeling the weight of it in her palm. Anticipation and lust burned in his gaze. Giving him one long lick to the tip of his cock, she worked his length wi
th her hand.
Fingers fisted in her hair, guiding her head where he wanted it. Caressing his balls with her tongue, she gave them equal attention. Once she figured out what turned him on the most, it would be easier to please him.
“Take it all,” he grated. “Swallow it, slut. You dirty, filthy bitch.”
Giving him what he wanted, she took him down her throat all the way, watching his eyes roll into the back of his head. Moaning, he jacked his hips, fucking her face with increasingly violent thrusts.
Gripping the backs of his thighs, Rory let him use her. He wasn’t shy about what he wanted.
“Yes, yes,” he hissed, pulling her face to his groin and holding it there while she gagged. “Bitches like you love to be dominated. Brought to heel.”
The guy was trying to be an Alpha asshole. He’d piss in his pants if he came face to face with any of the real Alphas who’d been in the club tonight.
Ignoring his braggadocio, she focused on getting him to finish.
But he had more control than she hoped. When he forced her away, ripped off her clothes, and threw her onto the bed, she understood he intended to get every penny he’d paid for.
“On all fours like a good bitch,” he growled, climbing between her legs. Notching his glans in her opening, he shoved his length inside, not caring that she was too dry. He forced his way in, taking every inch with calculated precision until he was balls-deep inside her. He started moving, hanging onto her hips, then her shoulders, anchoring her in place while he pounded into her. Ruthless. Relentless.
Senator Worth grunted, testing the bed springs while she was hoping for a fast finish.
Next door, Candy was just getting started. With her supernatural hearing, Rory could easily imagine what was going down.
“Fuck,” Mason grated. “Feel that, bitch? Feel me filling your cunt? As soon as I get you stretched out for Quake, I’m reaming out that ass of yours.”
Rory could see Quake fisting himself, watching them go at it, ready to join them as soon as Mason did his thing.
She wished Quake was the one inside her, fucking her instead of a corrupt politician with money to burn. Closing her eyes, she pretended it was the Hell’s Fury Enforcer banging her and making her breath hiss between her teeth. “Oh, yeah, fuck me,” she crooned. “Fuck me just like that.”
Rory kept up a string of dirty talk that thankfully seemed to turn Franklin on. She begged, whimpered, moaned, wishing he’d finish the fuck up and go so she could get herself off.
Next door, Mason took a second from drilling Candy to check on his club brother. “Quake, did you fall asleep on us?”
“You finished already?” Quake wondered.
“Just getting started,” Mason told him.
“That makes two of us.”
Quake asked for a dental dam. A goddamn dental dam.
Lucky bitch.
Rory could hear their every move. Sticking it in Candy’s backdoor, Mason flipped over with her and Quake went to town, making her shriek like a banshee when she came.
“For Christ’s sake,” Franklin muttered, disgusted to hear it through the walls.
Hoping to distract him, Rory faked an orgasm.
“Not so fast, bitch.” He pulled out and shoved his cock up her ass hard enough to make her squeal. The sound excited him. He started pumping in earnest, tunneling in, dredging her channel, chasing his pleasure at her expense.
“Too much,” she whimpered, only to have him give it to her harder. Listening to the roar of the gargoyles next door, he came, jacking into her and filling the end of his condom. Still joined, he rolled them to their sides and tortured her nipples, pinching and twisting them hard enough to make tears spring in her eyes.
“Fuck,” he rasped, his breathing still labored. “I don’t know that the VIP treatment was worth it, but you’re the best fuck I’ve had in a while. Give me a minute, and I’ll be ready for Round Two.”
Rory stopped breathing. He’d paid for two hours. Had paid to use every orifice. He might not have gargoyle stamina but he certainly had more than her other human clients. Most johns stopped at one trip around the world. This guy sounded like a seasoned traveler.
Quake and Mason were long gone before the senator decided he’d gotten his money’s worth.
She still hadn’t gotten off.
Franklin didn’t say a word when he got dressed and slipped out, leaving her on the bed. Rory didn’t move until he was gone. She was going to need a long shower after that to wash away his touch.
Putting on her bra, panties, and sheer robe, she slipped from the room. Needing to clear her head, she padded to the rear door and stepped into the night air. Music was playing from inside, drifting from the front of the building. Out here in the back, things were quieter, steeped in darkness and starlight. Pressing her spine to the wall, Rory dragged in a breath, filling her lungs full of cool night air.
She couldn’t wait for the day she wouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that. She’d finally be free of men just wanting to fuck her.
A noise to her left made her turn her head in surprise. Someone was out here and she hadn’t sensed it. Not many supernaturals could do that. Straightening warily, Rory tightened the belt of her robe around her waist.
Spreading up into the dark, a white puff of pungent smoke swirled into the air. From the smell and orange glow, she knew it belonged to a joint.
Maybe they’d share . . .
“Hey, can I get a hit?” she called out softly.
A form emerged from the shadows.
Quake.
Gaze slowly stroking down the length of her, he held out the blunt. “Sure.”
Rory accepted it, her pussy gushing when she remembered hearing him with Candy in the next room. Bringing it to her mouth, she took a puff, aware his lips had been wrapped around it only moments ago.
Nostrils flaring, the big biker stepped closer. He didn’t say a word but watched her with hooded eyes.
Taking another hit, Rory held it out. “Thanks.”
Moving in, Quake rested his palm against the wall beside her head, deliberately caging her in. Rather than feel threatened, Rory felt her body respond to his nearness. A raw animal magnetism radiated from him. He was a real Alpha male. Not like the piece of trash she’d ended up with tonight. Quake didn’t need to fake it and neither did Candy when they were together.
Rory felt a jab of jealousy.
Relieving her of the joint, Quake brought the end of it to his lips and inhaled. Transferring it to his hand resting against the wall, he reached his free hand between them. When his finger found her clit, Rory gasped.
She should say no. Should push him away. Instead, her pelvis tilted forward. Her feet shuffled wider.
Mouth tugging up in a ghost of a smile, he slid his thumb up and down, working the sensitive bundle of nerves. Using the wall for support, Rory moaned. The friction of his practiced touch through the thin material of her panties only heightened her excitement. Quake teased and stroked, watching her expression until everything inside her tightened and she fell apart. Lifting her face to the sky, Rory gave a little cry, coming hard and fast.
Dazed, her body still pulsing with pleasure, she met the biker’s eyes. He didn’t say a word, just stared back for a moment before giving her a wink and slinking off into the darkness.
The back door opened. Madam Belle stepped outside, oblivious to what had just happened.
“There you are,” she sang. “Your next client’s waiting.”
Magenta returned to work, but no one else that night touched her like Quake had.
3
Quake barely heard the roar of the crowd around him. His mind was still on the night before and the beautiful maned wolf stripper. Getting Magenta off with his hand had been the highlight of his whole fucking day. The way her face had flushed, with eyes wide and lips parted, was etched into his brain. He’d jerked off to the image in bed that night, wishing she was seeing to his cock rather than his hand.
&
nbsp; It had been obvious she needed release. After listening to her fake orgasms with that rich bastard, Quake was more than happy to oblige. All he’d wanted to do was give her the pleasure she’d been denied.
He had licked his finger clean. He knew how her pussy tasted. Knew her most intimate smell. None of the girls were allowed to kiss, but the taste of her lips on his joint had left him craving more. It was a poor substitute, but it was as close to a kiss as he’d ever get with her as long as she worked at The Pole Barn.
Rock nudged him. “Stop daydreaming. Eyes on the blonde.”
Blinking, Quake surveyed the spectators here for the illegal shifter fights. He was supposed to be watching for trouble. Across the room, their President, Stone, was closest to the undercover ATF agent their club had been keeping tabs on for their brothers in New York. A tall, sexy blonde with cool blue eyes, Casey Andersson was posing as an armpiece for her Hispanic partner, both of them focused on playing their parts.
The fights tonight were in a converted warehouse owned by the Death’s Head MC. Located behind their biker bar, it was the main venue for underground shifter matches. Several of their members were on the card. Maverick and Mason were up early, fighting each other—the Death’s Head MC’s revenge for bouncing them last night. Chaos and Beast were pitted against other opponents in the last two matches of the night.
Unfortunately, they never made it that far. The Death’s Head MC interrupted Round Three of Maverick and Mason’s bout to seriously change things up. Announcing a fight to the death, two injured humans were tossed into the ring with a pair of knives.
The blonde across the way stopped breathing.
Quake’s cell buzzed with a text message from Stone.
Undercover ATF agents blown
Need extraction
On my mark
Jesus. Just what they didn’t need. Tested in front of the whole shifter community.
The Death’s Head MC would have shown them no mercy.
Quake looked across the way, seeking out Stone. Phantom, who had resumed his role as the Death’s Head Sergeant-at-Arms, was close by, smirking, enjoying his little show.
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