No, Ryan. Not her.
It would help if she'd stop hovering around me, but I can't abandon her in this place, either.
Bruce's cousin Todd leads the way up a spiral crystal staircase to a second level. This is a big strip club. Ordinarily I'd at least look at the goods as I walk by, but the mere presence of Julia walking next to me twists up my insides any time my gaze drifts towards the skin in my peripheral vision. She hugs herself and pulls in her shoulders the way embarrassed girls do, with a shy, forced smile locked in place on her pretty features. It makes me a little sick.
At least on the second floor it won't be so loud in the lounge and I won't have to worry about scummy random patrons thinking she's a hooker looking to sell an hour's company.
Todd follows the cocktail waitress into a private lounge area. She holds up a velvet rope and ushers us inside, gesturing to two bikini-clad models holding iced bottles of vodka.
Julia tucks in to the end of the long U-shaped couch and folds herself up, legs crossed, arms folded neatly under her chest, head down. I sit next to her and every muscle in my body seems to contract. I can almost feel her longing for me to relax as my arm rests against her and it hurts.
It was kind of lame and kind of cute back in the shuttle where she thought rubbing her chest on my arm would get my attention. She's so...not like what I'm used to. She's Karen's age, so she's almost two years younger than I am, but she is an adult. If I need any reminder of that all I need to do is rake my eyes along her long runner's legs, firm round ass and full breasts. It's the uncomfortable way she wears the cocktail dress and too-red makeup that trips me up.
It looks even more wrong in here. The flashing lights of the strip club make her pale skin contrast even more with her lipstick, so she looks like a vampire. The bad light is corrupting her somehow, but in a way that makes her beauty more stark. I feel like I’ve never seen her before. I want very badly to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of here before something embarrassing happens.
The bikini-clad waitress offers me a drink. Vodka, neat. I take it and knock back half of it, then the rest. It tastes flat and cold in my mouth and burns on the way down. Vodka just tastes like spoiled water to me, always has, but people like Todd think they're showing off by paying through the nose for a magnum of fancy stuff, as if there's any difference. I barely felt the watered-down drinks at the casino, but a pleasant heat swells through my chest now.
Julia accepts a glass and sips it, wincing visibly when it touches her tongue. She makes herself drain it anyway, the cords standing out on her neck with effort. When she puts the glass on the table in front of her, it comes away with a smear of her lipstick.
"You don't have to drink," I tell her.
"What?" she says, raising her voice over the pounding music.
"I said, you don't have to drink if you don't want to," I repeat, louder.
She scowls at me, insulted somehow. Probably thinks I'm babying her. The waitress comes around again and the boys all raise glasses, looking at Julia.
Are they trying to get her drunk?
I grab the drink and down it myself, shaking my head as it swirls down my throat and sends shivers through my muscles. It takes a lot more than this to get me well and truly hammered, but anyone can go too fast. Hopefully, Julia gets the message.
She sinks back into the seat, as if trying to hide. The others are already having a good time, half of them at the rail to gawk and holler at the girls working the stages on the first floor. I look over to my left and see one of the strippers muscling her way up a thirty-foot stripper pole that runs from the ground floor to the ceiling, before sliding down with it gripped between her legs.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Julia watching me watch and my stomach turns sour. I thankfully accept another drink and tip the girl with a twenty.
"Alright, alright," Todd bellows, "Sit down, ya'll, time for the private show!"
Julia's eyes open wide and she looks utterly horrified, but she steels herself and tucks back into the seat as if she can sink through it and hide. I shift towards the edge of my seat, hiding her behind me as the guys settle in on the couch. Not one but three women march into the booth, dressed in nurse, schoolgirl, and cheesy police officer outfits. I groan inwardly. This could hardly get more ridiculous.
The strippers spot Julia and one of them smirks. I've seen this routine before. Paying attention to female patrons gets them more attention from the guys and the guys have the money. This isn't my first rodeo, I've seen how places like this work.
The show starts.
"There's the lucky bachelor," Todd, still standing, says as he points at Bruce.
Bruce, for his part, shrinks back and plants his hands firmly at his sides, tucked under his ass. From the red in his face, he doesn't look especially happy about this. He keeps looking over at me, and at Julia, in turn.
The booming music of another song starts, and through the haze of another two fingers of vodka, it all melts into a bass line, and I tune out the lyrics. It's all top 40 garbage anyway.
I try to unfocus my eyes and appear interested without looking. The other guys are hooting and hollering and tossing bills at the girls as they form a half circle around Bruce and shove their bare breasts in his face. One hops in his lap, straddles him, and grinds. I think she had the cop outfit, but she's already down to nothing but a blue g-string to justify that assumption.
At least they're making money. They quickly have the stringy waistbands of their costumes festooned with skirts of bills.
Ugh, one of them is heading this way. I pointedly ignore her, but there's nothing I can do to stop her wedging in next to me and mounting Julia.
Recoiling, she sinks back into her booth. If she pushed any harder, Julia would split the cheap pleather of the booth and be swallowed up by the foam padding underneath. The stripper doesn't seem to notice or care and starts an unsolicited lap dance. I'm trying to keep an eye on my sister's fiancé and her best friend at the same time, and I need a drink. I grab a glass meant for another guy and answer his complaint with a scowl that sends him turning away, then down it.
That's been what, four? I should slow down.
When I turn back, Julia is tied up in an involuntary motorboat, and the stripper has quite deliberately hooked her legs on Julia's waist in a way that hitches up her skirt, drawing the hem further up her thighs. Any more gyrating, and Julia's butt cheeks will pop out.
I can't stand it. I shove a folded sheaf of hundreds at the stripper.
"Here," I growl, just loud enough to be heard. "You got your money, now get off her."
The stripper scowls at me, but she takes the bills, hops off Julia, and stuffs the cash into a tiny purse she wears on a springy jelly strap around her wrist.
I shield Julia with my body so the rest of them won't see. Red faced and on the verge of tears, she roughly grabs at her skirt and adjusts herself, clapping her legs shut so hard it would take a bomb to spread them again. She twists in the seat and takes a hitching breath.
"You're okay," I say, grabbing her hand.
She shakes her head that she isn't.
"You didn't have to do that," she finally manages.
"Yeah, I did."
"Well, you could have done it with ones," she jokes, lamely.
I shrug my shoulders. I'll have that money back in interest before we leave. I don't care.
"It doesn't matter. Just stick close to me and we'll keep them off you."
She nods gratefully.
"You want to go? I'll get you out of here if you want."
She grabs a glass with three fingers of vodka from the waitress and downs it in one long pull, clenching her teeth violently and shuddering before she pushes the glass back at her.
"I'm fine," she says.
Karen, god damn it, how could you make her do this?
"Hey, what happened to the show?" Todd calls, looking right at Julia.
The horror on her face makes me grit my teeth. Todd notices,
the grin on his over-tanned face melting into a lack expression of guilt as he turns back to Bruce, who still has a stripper in his lap and is trying his best to stare through her like she's not there, even as she squeezes her biologically improbable h-cups together and pushes them into his eyes.
A different girl saunters toward Julia, looking for some more of that girl-on-girl tip action. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's instinct, but I snap my arm around Julia's shoulders and pull her against me.
The stripper gets the message and moves off, awkwardly dancing in front of one of Todd's friends.
Julia gets a different message. She tucks up against me, twisting her body so that as she crosses her leg, her calf goes between my thighs.
I can't help it, I look down. As she takes a deep breath, her breasts strain against her dress, filling my vision with cleavage. Her nipples are hard under the fabric and my hand involuntarily moves a few inches towards her before I stop myself. My gaze sweeps down lush curves to her strong legs, creamy and silky and a mile long. If she shifts her leg and bumps my rising hard-on, this could get awkward.
I don't want to push her off, either.
Julia points at the waitress and makes a come-hither motion for another drink. After mixing one with cranberry juice, she passes it to Julia, who drinks it too fast, her throat bobbing as she forces it down. The waitress offers me another one, too.
My mouth is getting dry and my cheeks feel a little numb, just in the spots where the skin tightens over my cheekbones. I try to feel out what would happen if I stand up. I'm not that drunk. What am I, some kind of lightweight? I grab it and down it and put the glass back on the tray.
The world starts to blur. The strippers switch out for another trio. I have to do the same thing to push another one off of Julia, and she takes more drinks. So do I. I should stop, but when has that ever mattered?
Before I realize what's happening, there's someone on my lap. For a brief half second, I think it's one of the strippers and so I put my hands on her sides, but it's not one of them, it's Julia, sitting on me, head pillowed on my chest.
She's hammered.
Turning, I see Bruce, still as a statue as he endures this. He's not going to fuck around on my sister. We can go, and I'm getting Julia out of here before she makes herself black out.
When I stand up, I almost fall back into the booth myself. Julia stumbles but keeps on her feet, and I'm glad she's not wearing heels.
In the chaos around us, I move her to the stairs, holding her by the waist from behind, then move in front of her to keep her from falling as we descend. On the first floor, it's worse. Tension crawls up the back of my neck as a crowd of patrons and wandering strippers looking for lap dances fills in around. I push two of them off and finally, harshly demand the location of the exit from one of the bouncers. The big man shrinks back.
Outside, the air is chilly for Las Vegas, and Julia rubs her arms.
"What now?" she says.
"Hold on, I'll make a phone call and get us a limo."
"A limo?" she says. "Really?"
All it takes is a slurred phone call to the concierge at the hotel, and we wait. Julia shivers and tugs her skirt down, only to twist and pull the chest of her dress up in an endless cycle, trying to cover her legs and her breasts.
"I hate this dress," she mutters.
I don't know if it's an honest expression of opinion or she's fishing for compliments, but a dozen dirty replies leap to mind.
"It sure likes you," I say, lamely.
She busts out laughing and turns to me, pummeling my chest with her tiny fists.
"Ow!"
"I'm not hurting you, you big baby. Hey, should we go get Bruce?"
She starts back towards the entrance and I gently pull her back.
"He's going to be fine," I say. "He didn't look any happier to be there than we were."
She nods, brushing loose locks of hair back from her eyes. The way she does it, drunkenly fumbling her hands and blinking to stare at her fingers as if surprised by them, makes me feel weirdly warm inside. I pull her close and she falls against my side, giggling.
The limousine pulls up, and the driver leaps out.
"Mister Avery?"
"Present," I say, and Julia bursts out laughing.
I wish I knew why that was funny.
"If you'll step inside," he says, opening the door.
Julia almost faceplants as she tries to crawl in through the door. I have to grab her waist and pull her up and almost lift her inside. She flops on the seat and splays out, heels resting on the floor. I climb in next to her and slide towards her. Sitting up straight is a little hard.
"Back to the hotel, sir?"
Yes, we need to go back. I should tuck her into bed, make sure she won't choke on her own puke when it catches up with her, and go to bed. I have a flight to catch tomorrow, and this sweet girl does not need me in her life.
Then she gives me a smokey, lidded look with her astonishingly blue eyes and I turn to the driver and say,
"Just drive around. We need some air so my friend can sober up."
He gives me a knowing look and nods curtly, closes the door, and disappears. The partition is already up, so I can't see him.
We're alone. No one will see what happens now.
Carefully, I pull Julia into an upright seated position, and help her lean her head on the head rest. The whole time, she looks at me like she can't believe I'm real.
I am not going to take advantage of this girl.
Is it taking advantage if she grabs my dick?
Julia flops on me, grinning, and runs her hand down my stomach and between my legs, gasping as she pulls her fingers along the straining length of my erection, hard and urgent in my slacks. I shudder all over like a teenage boy getting his first handy in the back of a rusty Honda, and she lets out a low purring sound.
The car is moving, so it feels even weirder when Julia mounts me. She pulls the hem of her dress up over her ass and straddles my legs, sitting in my lap. Staring into my eyes, she leans in and lightly teases her lips along my chin.
Two competing impulses war in my brain.
She's too innocent to do this. She doesn't need you in her life. You'll ruin her. She'll never get over it. You'll screw it up somehow and crush her so you can get your rocks off. She's not another one of your pieces of arm candy. Put her back in her seat, take her home, and put her back to bed.
Then the other impulse.
You can feel her pussy grinding on your dick and holy hell is it hot. You should totally fuck her.
While I try to parse out which one to listen to, slowed by the booze, she takes my head in her hands. Her fingers are long and delicate, though her hands are small, and the skin is as smooth as silk except for rough, sandpapery pads of callouses on her right fingertips. Is that from drawing? Holding a pencil maybe?
Cool, silken smooth skin glides under my hand and she moans softly, her eyes widening just slightly. Somehow, I don't realize I've cupped her ass in my hands until I squeeze, feeling the softness of her skin and the hardness of muscle. Is she wearing a thong?
Yes. Yes, she is.
She grinds against me, squeezing her tits against my chest, and puts her lips to my ear.
"The first time I ever came, I was thinking about you."
If I was hard before, I almost explode now. Does she have any idea how sexy she is? She could make a statue drool. She keeps hinting at my lips, urging me, daring me, and finally I kiss her. I don't know if it's something she ate or my imagination, but she tastes like berries, light and sweet. Her lips are terribly soft and her mouth warm, and she responds eagerly to my tongue, quivering at the same time, a weird and enticing blend of innocent and slutty.
My arms leap up and lock around her. She grinds on me, rubbing us together through our clothes. Her hands slip under my back, start tugging at my shirt until her fingers find bare skin, and she moans again, only for me to swallow it with another kiss.
Without thi
nking I pull her and lift her up and yank the top of her dress down as she shifts the straps to the side. Her breasts now free, I bring her to my mouth and suck hard on a nipple, almost trying to scare her, make her think I'll be too intense for her. Instead of pulling back, she presses into me and tangles her fingers in my hair, moaning softly.
I didn't even realize I had my hand between her legs until I'd yanked her underwear down to her knees. As soon as I touch her, urgent, rampaging heat crushes through my body. I've never felt a woman get this wet before. When I touch her, her stomach quivers, and she thrusts against me, legs twitching. She cries out softly when my finger presses inside her, sinking deeper, deeper, and she sinks down to ride my hand. The thought of that tight slick heat gripping my shaft could kill me.
Yanking her dress up and her panties off, I throw her into the seat on her back and she curls up, throwing her legs over my shoulders as I dive between them and taste her. One hand pulls my hair, the other grips the seat so hard her knuckles go white, and she chokes and sputters with strained squeaks and cries and moans trapped in her throat. I grab her ass with both hands and attack her with my lips and tongue, pleasuring her as I fight the irresistible urge to yank my pants down.
All I'd have to do is pull her to me as I rise and I'd be inside her.
I want her so bad it physically hurts. She arches and shoves her pussy in my face, grabbing my head now with both hands. I look up to see her covered in sweat, shining wetly and flushed as she writhes and moans.
At the last second, she draws back, squeezing her legs to force my head away from her. For a terrible, heart-freezing second, I think I've hurt her somehow, but she stopped me so she could lunge. All at once we're on the floor, and she's tugging at my belt and my fly.
"Julia, we should—"
"Please please please," she murmurs, staring at me as if she'll die if I don't take her.
Any thought of resistance melts in another kiss and the feeling of her calves on my back as she locks her legs around my waist and draws me in. I cry out as she envelopes me at the same moment she arches her back and rakes her nails down my back, biting her lip with her eyes pressed tightly shut. I start to say something stupid but she just nods, chin quivering, and rolls her hips.
Unexpected Bride Page 3