Wrangler (32 page)

Only a few inches more. I grazed the outside of her panties, feeling her body jerk and twitch as my fingers opened her legs under the white linen tablecloth.  She was shaking, and I looked up at her face to see her dark eyelashes flutter over her round, brown eyes.

“Open your legs,”  I hissed in her ear, knowing she would do whatever I asked. “Farther.”

“Ryder...”  My name on her lips only made me detach from reality even more as I could feel the moisture even on the outside of her panties.  The sweet, white, cotton lace trimmed panties that I had bought her yesterday just for tonight.  If it wasn’t going to be my face, I wanted to know something from me was up against that sweet little pussy all night. 

I rubbed softly on the outside of the crotch of the panties, watching her closely. She swallowed hard, and I knew I had to get my fingers up inside her and make her cum while she sat there, looking out at her evil sister and drunk parents dancing like they were riding the wave at Chateau Marmot.

So much for getting my cock under control on my little walk, that beast was back with a vengeance, and I was thankful for the low light in the banquet hall.  I could have fucked her by now. There have been plenty of chances, plenty of time together over the couple weeks or so since I’ve been back.  But my girl wasn’t ready.  She had some fucked up idea that because she wasn’t a bulimic skeleton like her sister and her friends, that if I saw her naked I would run.  Jesus, I had to teach this beauty her true value. I planned to.

She sat there like a glorious diamond among the sewage of the room.  I still couldn’t wrap my head around the enigma that was Chloe.  Beautiful, fuck yeah. And she was sexy as hell with those lips, that sweet round face, those brown eyes that looked right through me. 

But it was more than just her looks. She had the spirit of a broken colt, but the brain of a scholar and the talent of Raphael.  Only, her family didn’t value any collateral other than the color green and some fucked up version of fake pageant beauty.

I thank Christ they had left her alone for the most part, so she could at least be herself. Sure, she needed me to help her remember how valuable she was, how inherently beautiful, but that would come in time.  She was natural and there was nothing make-up, some diet, hair color or silicone could ever do to improve on her.

“I want you to cum...” I whispered into to her ear. 

“Ryder, please...” Her voice rose into that sweet higher register.

“Shhh, open...” I instructed.

She obeyed, thankfully, because I was about to scream “Fire” and get everyone the hell out of here if she held back any longer. 

The feel of her slick wetness wrapping around my fingers had my cock tall and tight, ready to shred metal.  But my sweet angel needed this, and I had to fight my own dog like nature to bring her the pleasure she deserved, letting my own needs wait. 

She was getting close to being ready for me to take her for real, and after what was going to go down tonight, I was fucking positive she would finally understand there was never going to be anyone else for me but her.  She was the one hung up on how she looked, I told her every chance I got how fucking sexy she was, how hard she made my cock.  I wanted her to feel like she was the only person in the world when I was with her. 

“God...” She closed her eyes, barely able to keep her voice in check.  It was just what I was looking for.

“You want my fingers inside you don’t you baby?”  I whispered, keeping a scout eye out on the dance floor for the trio of trash to come sloshing back to the table.  What I saw was a drunken mass of human waste pulsing and slipping on the slick wooden floor.  Whatever they were laughing at was unclear to anyone that had decided to remain sober.

“Yes, here.  You’re creaming all over my fingers, so just let go, babygirl.  Tell me you want my fingers...” 

Watching her cheeks turn into crimson blazes of heat made me only want to see and hear her cum that much more.  Luckily, our table was in the back corner of the banquet hall. There were a couple drunks sitting at another eight top next to us, but they were oblivious.

She needed a push.

“Fucking say it...”  I used my Sargent voice.  I slid the tips of my fingers up and over her engorged little hard nub, giving it a good flick while watching her eyes fall to half-mast and her mouth make a little gasp.

I felt her hips take a quick hitch lower, giving me the access I needed to get into the deeper center of her heaven.  If I was being honest with myself, what I really wanted to do was throw her down on the table and feast on her for supper, but instead I had to settle for making her cum all over my hand.

“I want your fingers inside me ...”  She cocked her head lower, whispering in that babygirl voice that made me lose my shit.

Her hips shifted again, and I knew I had her.  She couldn’t pretend with me, and I couldn’t with her.  There were no hard edges between us; it was lightening bolt energy, like invisible fibers had sewn us together somewhere along the line. 

My only frustration was her own lack of confidence in herself, but, like I said, the fucks that raised her had done that, and it was going to be my job to undo it.

Taking another quick look out at the trash trio, I took my middle finger and followed the hot, wet folds down until I felt that heavenly spot and pressed inside her innocent body.  If I didn’t have my fingers stirring inside my precious angel, I would have been filled with rage watching those fucks out there making assholes of themselves, but lucky for me, my baby was here and at least part of me was inside her.

She was purring next to me, and I felt my cock pushing painfully up against the waist of my pants.  It took a special part of my brain, something deep inside from my SEAL training to give me the discipline I needed to not ravage her right here and now.

I pressed inside, just beyond my first knuckle, letting the clutches of her virgin walls tense around my finger.  She gushed as I palmed her open slit, grinding against her engorged nub, back and forth, slipping in just far enough to tease her and give her a little jolt as I toyed with that special spot just inside.

Never had I dreamed I could actually have this ravenous feeling of possession and protection over a girl.  No other girl had ever made me want her, not like this.  I felt like she was born just for me and it was my job on this planet to take care of her.

Baby’s juices were streaming over my fingers. Her breath was coming in short little gulps. I felt the clutch of her walls grab me like she was hanging onto my probing finger for life itself.  I gave it everything she needed, my hand making circles in time with my slick finger pulsing in and out.  She was close; I could feel it like a magnetic pulse flowed between us.

“Mmmm...”  She moaned, her hips cocked and her opening gushed all over my hand. 

“That’s my girl...cum baby...”

I knew it was all she needed, to hear me whisper that magic in her ear. 

Her tiny hand fell low under the table to dig her nails into my wrist as I worked up under her skirt, her mouth opening and the most beautiful noises fell from her candy sweet lips.  Feeling those little convulsions and the river of juice that came out of her almost made me fucking jizz in my pants.

There wasn’t anything I had been through, even during hell week, even all the missions that had left us running for our lives in caves and dirt all over the world, that trumped the kind of control I had to show right now over my own desire. 

“Oh my god...” Her face dropped.  Long, shimmering waves of her dark chestnut hair fell over her pink cheeks, and she shook and came all over my hand.

I gave her a second to gather herself, then I slowly slipped my dripping hand out from inside those sweet white panties.  I could smell her on my fingers, and I knew I had to take a break to spread that sweet slippery juice over my own granite rod in the men’s room and give myself some relief or the rest of this shit evening was going to be hell.

“I’ll be back, babygirl.”  I gave her a quick peck on the cheek.  We’re done hiding.

Her hand reached up to grab my wrist. Those wide eyes had nothing on a baby doe, and my heart seized up in my chest.

“Thank you.” 

My balls threaten to heave right there. She fucking thanked me for making her cum, doesn’t she realize that every orgasm she has is her priceless gift to me?

“Baby, I love you. I just need a minute.  Don’t move. I’ll be back, and then we’re going to light this shit up tonight.  Okay? 
Don’t move
.” 

I looked down at her from under my brow.  She didn’t always listen and we needed to work on that, but for now, I just needed to her mind this one thing while I took a minute to stroke her effect on me into some tissue in the bathroom.

Want more of ‘BABY’?

Sign up here and you will receive each chapter FREE.

SUBSCRIBE HERE!!

http://eepurl.com/bubxzz

C
hapter 1

Decker

“It was just a handjob.” Claudia rolls her eyes like this is a joke. “That’s barely even anything. I didn’t even kiss him, for chrissake.”

She’s looking everywhere but at me as if avoiding my eyes is going to change the outcome for her. “You know the rules,” I say.

Believe it or not, it hurts me every time this happens. I want to help them all, but in the end, they have to help themselves too. I can’t do it for them.

“I’m
great
at handjobs. I got him off in like
twenty seconds
. I mean,” Claudia attempts to look pitiful, “it’s almost like shaking someone’s hand. Would you fire Allister for shaking hands with one of the guys?”

Allister, my right hand man, pipes up. “Congratulations on your skill set.  And no, it is not like shaking hands.” His sarcastic answer doesn’t hide his own disappointment. His voice has always been low, but when he’s disappointed it takes on extra weight, extra gravity. It’s a bit like if a bass drum was suddenly able to speak.

He’s more pissed off this time than usual, and he hates firing girls as much as I do. It’s because he’s the one that talked me into hiring her – even when I expressed my doubts that she would take the opportunity seriously. Looks like I was right, but I don’t take any pleasure in that.

It’s too bright in here. The light and the situation drives ball-peen hammers into my temples and I rub them with my middle finger.

I look at the file open on my desk, then glance around the room. I can’t make an exception for her. The rules are the rules, that’s why we’re all in here. It’s my job to deliver the bad news.

I’m momentarily distracted by the surroundings of my office. They’re far from interesting. White gloss, cool air. Actually, the temperature in here is fine, but it feels cold. My office at the back of the club needs some warming up and organizing. I despise disorder.

The white gloss paint is there because that’s what I like. Clean, pure and without blemish.  Neatly stacked pillars of white boxes, labeled with their contents and color coded by unpacking priority, line one wall. My new office furniture was delivered last week – at least it got me out from behind the folding banquet table which had been my temporary desk for a month. The place needs artwork and some other touches, but I just haven’t had the time.

Seems that’s a theme with me because my house looks the same way and I’ve lived there for five years.

I listen as Allister heaves a deep breath in and out.

Allister is my General Manager. He’s also my best friend. If you saw him on the street, you’d probably cross to the other side. But he’s one of the best people I know. Heart of gold and the size of Texas.

He’s shaking his bald head, running a hand back and forth over it while he stares at Claudia. It’s unusual for him to step in, to try to persuade me to take on a girl against my better judgement. But I guess he took pity on her – early twenties, brunette, streetwise attitude. Maybe she reminded him of someone, I don’t know. I didn’t push it.

As for her, she’s glaring back and forth between us like she can’t understand what she’s done wrong. And that is exactly her problem.

But this is my club and I have to work damned hard to keep it.

It’s one in a chain that I own. Monarch night clubs. They are a mash-up of trendy, urban bar with a side order of gentleman’s club. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not seedy at all. I’ve made my name in this industry by keeping the seedy element away and that’s the way I intend it to stay. Which is why I have to be strict with the girls. Today it’s a handjob, tomorrow a blowjob. Once you start down that road there’s no turning back.

I suppose “gentleman’s club” isn’t really the right label. I mean, I do have dancers, but they don’t take their clothes off. They don’t wear a whole lot to begin with, but they also don’t take anything off.

They dance, and they do it well enough that they don’t need to show their bodies. Are they sexy?  Yep. Do the men in the clubs wish they were dropping clothing? Of course. But while they work for me it’s not happening.