by Penny Dee
Lulu is gorgeous. The type of gorgeous that stands out from the rest of the club girls. Strawberry blonde hair. Big tits. Full lips. The kind of sexy legs that belong wrapped around your waist as you drive into her beautiful body with long, hard thrusts. She’s a dancer at Candy Town and comes to the clubhouse to let off some steam from time to time. In the past, we’ve shared a couple of looks, hers were inviting and seductive, mine were noncommittal and disinterested. Now we’re sharing a chair on the far side of the clubhouse as she rocks her body against my lap in time to Rock Mafia’s “The Big Bang.”
Dressed in a tiny pair of shorts and a bikini top that barely contains her double Ds, she’s giving me the kind of lap dance that should have me hard as fuck and dying to give it to her, but my dick isn’t participating. It’s giving zero fucks about the hot babe sliding up and down, and all over my body. I’d like to say it’s whiskey dick. That I’ve consumed enough tequila shots since spilling my guts to Dolly earlier, but I’m barely feeling the effects of the liquor.
No, this isn’t because of tequila.
This is because of her.
Bronte.
The woman I’m aching to touch.
To kiss.
To bury myself so deep into.
Fuck.
This is a mistake.
I am just about to push Lulu away when Bronte walks into the clubhouse, a flustered prospect running in after her.
Frustration sends the hair on the back of my neck on end. I’ll deal with him later.
But for now, I watch from the shadows as Bronte scans the room for me. When she finds me draped in Lulu, she pauses, and her jaw tightens. I go rigid in my chair as hurt ripples across her face.
I don’t want to fucking hurt her, and every cell of my being wants to go over there and kiss that hurt from her lips.
But this is a good thing.
Let her see me as the bad guy.
Let her hate me.
Not just because I deserve it, but because she needs to find another way to feel about me.
I want you to kiss me again, Jack. Her words echo in my mind, and my body aches to do just that.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
She fixes her eyes to mine, and for a moment I wonder if she’s going to cross the room to confront me because Bronte has always been one not to shy away from confrontation. She won’t let anyone treat her this way. She’s usually sassy and fierce. She has balls.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she turns her back on me and walks over to the bar where she slides her perfect ass onto a stool.
Within seconds, Merrick is by her side.
Merrick, our very own Prince Charming.
He’s a good-looking kid with bright blue eyes and the kind of body you see on the cover of a romance book. The club girls flock to him like seagulls on a fucking French fry. Dolly says he looks like a young Elvis Presley.
All the girls fall for his pretty-boy looks, and I wonder if Merrick will have the same effect on Bronte as he does the other women. Will she be seduced by his too-blue eyes and model looks?
The biting heat of jealousy nips at my guts until I can barely stand it. My fists tighten at my sides.
Lulu brushes her lips to my ear. “I’d really like to suck your cock.”
Her words barely register because my eyes are fixed firmly on Bronte across the room. She laughs at something Merrick says, and her sweet curves turn toward him, her eyes shining up at him.
Anger pours viciously and unexpectedly into my chest.
“How about it, Jack? Want to take me to your room so I can fuck you good?”
Again, Lulu’s words don’t compute because all I can see is Bronte flirting with Merrick. When he pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, it’s about all I can take. I stand up so fast, Lulu has to jump out of my way to steady herself.
“What the hell,” she yelps.
Ignoring her, I storm over to Bronte and Merrick. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Merrick gets the message real quick and disappears faster than lightning.
Bronte glares at me, her eyes roaring with wildfire. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why?”
“The clubhouse isn’t for you,” I growl. My tone is rougher than I intended but completely indicative of how seeing her with Merrick made me feel.
“Why? Am I cramping your style?” She looks over my shoulder to where Lulu had given me a lap dance. “Looked like you were seconds away from taking her to your fuck room.” She shrugs. “By all means, don’t let me stop you.”
“That wasn’t going to happen.”
“Looked like it to me. Seriously, go fuck your dancer. I’m sure I’ll find someone to keep me company while I’m here.”
“You need to go home, Bronte.”
Her eyes gleam with fire. “Oh, it’s Bronte now. Is Mr. President getting all serious on me?”
“I’m only going to say it the one time,” I warn.
“You’re not my father.”
“No, but I’m old enough to be him.”
Our eyes lock, my words driving home the point that I’m too old for her, and that neither of us has any business thinking otherwise.
“I’m not a damn child,” she snaps.
I look at Dolly. “Call her a cab. She’s going home. I’ll make sure one of the prospects rides out behind it and makes sure she stays at home.”
“I’m not going,” Bronte says.
I ignore her statement. “And make sure she gets in the goddamn cab, will you?”
Without another word, I storm away and disappear into the shadows of the clubhouse.
BRONTE
Humiliation burns in my cheeks as I watch him walk away.
He thinks I’m a kid.
But I’m not.
And the sooner he realizes it, the better.
I turn back toward the bar and slap my palms onto the polished timber. “A shot of King’s Pride. Thanks, Dolly.”
She raises one perfectly drawn eyebrow at me. “You sure, honey?”
“I’m over twenty-one, Dolly.”
“The cab Jack wanted me to call is on its way.”
“Well, then, we’ll have to make it a quick one, won’t we?”
Reluctantly, Dolly pours me a shot of the white lightning, and without hesitation, I throw it back. Unfortunately, I’m not used to hard liquor, and the fiery liquid burned a flaming path down my throat and into my gut. I wheeze out a cough. “Fuck!”
Dolly barely suppresses her smile. “You want to tell me what’s got you so hot and bothered under the collar you’re prepared to wipe it from your temporal lobe with a shot of white lightning?”
“You saw how he spoke to me, Dolly,” I say through another wheeze.
“I did.”
“He thinks I’m a kid.”
“You are a kid, honey. Why you in such a rush to grow up?”
“I’m not rushing anywhere. I’m twenty-five.” I let out another cough. But the moment it passes, the magic of the white lightning hits me, and it hits me real hard.
It’s what King’s Pride moonshine is known for—the ball of fire that sets your insides aflame but leaves you feeling amazing afterward. And I’m not going to lie, it feels fucking amazing. It’s like warm sunshine oozing into every nook and cranny of my body.
A goofy grin spreads across my face. “You know what this night needs?” I slap my palms against the top of the bar again, feeling my spirits rise. “Music, Dolly. It needs music.”
Forgetting about the cab that’s on its way, I walk over to the jukebox, more than aware of Jack’s eyes on me as I cross the room.
Good. Let him watch me. Let him see that I’m not a kid anymore.
Spurred on by the magic of King’s Pride moonshine, I lean against the jukebox suggestively as I skim the song list. Finding one I like, I hit play, and SayGrace’s “You Don’t Own Me” fills the room. Immediately, the music washes
over me like warm water, and feeling good, I begin to sway my hips in time to the slow beat. I know Jack is looking, and it feels good because I want him to see me. I want him to see my body swaying seductively to the music. I want him to see the body that no longer belongs to a girl but to a grown woman with real wants and needs. A body that’s aching with hunger to be touched. By him.
Slowly, I dance back to the bar, throwing in a few sexy hip sways along the way, and nod to Dolly to poor me another shot. But before the glass reaches my lips, Jack storms across the room, his energy like a fucking tornado as he lifts me off the floor and throws me over his shoulder.
I struggle against him, but he is too damn strong.
“Put me down,” I demand.
“You’ve had enough,” he growls. “I’m taking you home.”
“Like hell you are!”
He ignores me, of course, and carries me out of the clubhouse and across the graveled parking lot to his truck.
When he puts me down, I bash his ridiculously hard chest with my fist. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
He yanks open the truck door. “I’m the guy who’s making sure you get home safe. Now get the fuck in.” The look on his face sends a thrill through me. It’s thunderous. His eyes are dark and stormy. His jaw is tense. His beautiful lips are snapped closed over gritted teeth.
I climb in the truck, and he slams the door closed.
With a skid of tires, Jack tears out of the clubhouse, kicking up a plume of dust and gravel in his wake, and we drive home in silence.
The moment his truck pulls to a stop, I’m out of the truck’s cab and storming toward the front door. But Jack is at my heels, stomping up the front steps behind me, and once we’re inside, he swings me around.
“What the hell was that all about? You got something you want to prove, little girl?”
“I’m not a goddamn little girl.”
“Then stop behaving like a brat.”
“Only if you stop acting like an overprotective jerk!” My hands fist at my sides.
“You came to the clubhouse looking for trouble.”
“No, I came to the clubhouse looking for you. And what I found was you getting a lap dance from a hot blonde with big boobs.” I hate that my lips quiver at the memory, so I cling to my anger to stop me from crying. “Fuck you, Jack.”
I turn away from him.
Hating him.
“Nothing happened.”
Jack grabs my hand to stop me from turning away, but I yank it back. “But it would’ve.”
“No, it wouldn’t have.”
“Why?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Tell me why, Jack?”
“Who I’m with or not with is none of your concern. And it shouldn’t be because I’m no good for you. You got that, kid. I’m too old and jaded for you.”
“No, you’re not. You’re exactly who and what I want. But you’re too goddamn stubborn to see it. You say nothing was going to happen with Lulu… tell. Me. Why?”
“I said no.”
“Tell. Me!”
“Because I fucking want you!” he suddenly blurts out, his eyes wild.
I stare up at him, wide-eyed, wondering if I’ve heard him right. But in the next breath, he takes me by surprise and slams his lips to mine, kissing me with the hunger of a starved man.
I kiss him back with equaled fervor, just as desperate for his kiss and for him to quell the pulse drumming between my legs. It’s the kind of kiss that lifts you off your feet and sends you straight to heaven.
With a guttural growl, he backs me up against the wall, his big hands cupping my face, his mouth fierce and demanding as he kisses me possessively, almost savagely. I’m caught in the storm, lost to the sweetness of his mouth and drunk on the taste of his lips. He groans, and it’s the sound of torture and desperate need as he continues to kiss me breathless.
Lifting me into his big arms, he pins my back to the wall, and I wrap my legs tight around his hips, my moan falling between us when the hardness in his jeans brushes against the damp satin of my panties.
I want those jeans and those panties gone.
And going by the needy groan that rumbles from his throat, so does Jack.
It’s the ringing of his cell that breaks the spell—a traitorous shrill coming from inside his cut.
“Don’t answer it,” I beg against his lips, even though I know he will. He is the president.
Reluctantly, Jack pulls his mouth away to answer, his lips swollen and wet, his body still pinning me to the wall.
Lust smolders on his face, making me want to kiss him again. I watch through hooded lids as he speaks into his phone, the echo of his kiss singing in my blood. It’s a quick call, no more than a minute, but long enough to cool what was about to happen between us.
Jack drops his forehead to mine and exhales deeply. “I’m sorry, baby, I have to go.”
Drowning in disappointment, I brush my lips against his. “Are you sure?”
He unpins me and eases me onto my feet. “You have no idea how badly I want to stay.”
I drag his hand to the warmth of my panties and feel him flinch when his fingers find the wetness between my thighs.
A ragged breath escapes his swollen lips. “Goddammit, baby, you trying to kill me? I gotta go and you show me this?”
“It’s just a reminder,” I say with a wicked gleam in my eyes. “Of what’s waiting for you when you get home.”
JACK
I’m going to kill my sister.
One of Pinkwater’s deputies has arrested her for assault. Apparently, she’s gotten into an altercation at the drugstore with another woman for God only knows what reason. I mean, it’s a fucking drugstore for crying out loud.
Now I have to leave Bronte’s hungry little mouth to go bail her out, and every cell in my body is drowning in disappointment.
I hate riding away from her.
Not to mention, it’s going to give me a serious case of blue balls.
Then again, let’s face it, my cell ringing might be the best thing for the both of us. Because Bronte doesn’t need what I was about to give her.
Fuck, the things I want to do to her—it just isn’t right.
I’m beyond restraint now.
If the phone call hadn’t interrupted us, I’d be making her come this very second, and I’m still not convinced it’s a good thing. It kind of feels like I’m buying myself a one-way ticket to hell, corrupting something so pure and wonderful as her.
At least it’s a fifteen-minute ride to the county jailhouse, enough time for my body to calm down. I pull up out front and have to adjust the front of my jeans before climbing the steps.
Inside the century-old jailhouse, Pinkwater is enduring a lecture from my sister as she sits in her cell, tormenting him with her argumentative nature, and a pair of long legs crossed as she leans back seductively and glares at him with a face that dares the sheriff to keep her there one second longer.
Pinkwater has been in love with my sister for as long as I can remember.
Mention it to her and she’ll make some sarcastic comment and pull a face. But secretly, she loves it.
“Finally!” she wails when she sees me, and she stands. “Five more minutes talking with present company, and I was about to die from boredom.”
Pinkwater, who is leaning against his desk with his arms folded over his chest, gives her a worn-out look. “Believe me, Faith, I want you outta here just as much as you wanna be outta here.”
“I doubt that very much.” She clutches the cell bars, her black eyes shifting from him to me. “How’s my baby brother doing?”
“A lot better than you considering you’re on that side of the cell door.” I hold her gaze but speak to Pinkwater, “What did she do this time, Sheriff?”
“Oh, you know, the normal… public nuisance, assault.”
“Nice,” I mouth to her.
“She deserved it,” Faith mouths back.
My eyes narrow at my sister as I speak to the sheriff, “What happened?”
“Belinda Mangina wants to press charges,” Pinkwater replies. “Said Faith tipped an entire jar of jellybeans over her head.”
I raise an eyebrow at my sister. Jellybeans? Really?
“Belinda Mangina deserved everything she got. She was behaving like an entitled bitch. Probably because her name is Belinda Mangina, who knows. And why should she get away with that?”
“Being an entitled so-and-so isn’t against the law, Faith. But assaulting someone with a jar of jellybeans is,” Pinkwater reminds her.
“Belinda Mangina was being rude to Lizzie, who works behind the counter. Called her slow. Started blathering on how she was wasting her time, then started in on her about her appearance. You know Lizzie suffers from terrible acne and Belinda-fucking-Man-Pussy made her cry. What choice did I have? I wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen, so I told her to shut her goddamn mouth or I would shut it for her.”
“How did the jellybeans get involved?” I ask.
“The old hag got right in my face. Got up real close and that bitch has terrible breath. So, I warned her… I told her if she didn’t step back, I’d make her step back. When she didn’t, I grabbed the jar off the counter, and as they say, the rest is history.”
“No, Faith. They say it’s assault,” Pinkwater replies.
To which she promptly rolls her eyes. “God, this is sooo boring!”
“Can I take her home?” I ask Pinkwater.
“Please,” he begs.
My sister’s black eyes burn into Pinkwater as he unlocks her cell door, and they side-eye each other as she walks past him.
“Sheriff.”
“Ma’am.”
I roll my goddamn eyes and follow Faith down the stairs to her car outside.
“When are you going to put him out of his misery? You know he’s had a crush on you since high school.”
“I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a spoon.”
“I think you like it.”
“Like a hole in the head.”
“You know, you’re going to have to start playing nice with other women, Faith.”
She stops walking and turns to face me. “It had nothing to do with her being a woman and everything to do with her being a cunt.”