Vegas Strip

Vegas Strip By Lisa Perry 2

Dedication

For the ones who support, sacrifice and share in the ride – my family.

3

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Vegas Strip by Lisa Perry Red Rose™ Publishing Publishing with a touch of Class! ™ The symbol of the Red Rose and Red Rose is a trademark of Red Rose™ Publishing Red Rose™ Publishing Copyright© 2009 Lisa Perry ISBN: 978-1-60435-387-7 Cover Artist: Emmy Editor: Belle Line Editor: Zena Gainer All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or give any ebooks away. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. Red Rose™ Publishing www.redrosepublishing.com Forestport, NY 13338 Thank you for purchasing a book from Red Rose™Publishing where publishing comes with a touch of Class!

4

Vegas Strip By Lisa Perry 5

Chapter One

“He wants a guy…” An array of eyebrows was on the rise as Samantha Monroe entered the staff room of the massage parlors‟ building and threw down her towel. “…Says I don‟t go deep enough…” A heavy throat cleared. A chuckle and guffaw emerged from deep in the corner. Sam‟s manager sidling up next to her, gurgled an abrasive, “Give the man what he wants, Sam, you know the rules.” The room spoke up in unison, slowly, as though Samantha was a toddler, “The-customer-is-always-right.” Samantha raised her arms and folded them angrily across her breasts, stuck her chin out and stated, “I go plenty deep, thank you very much.” “Apparently not.” Tim Wyland snickered back. She gave him the death stare. “Well, go ahead, Mr. Sports massage. Show him what a real man can do.” His snide smile fell away, his face turned to stone as he snarled back, “Not funny, Sam.”

6

“You started it, Tim.” She spat back, debated sticking out her tongue and decided against the juvenile act. “Children, children!” Sam‟s boss, Hilda Sandoval, clapped her hands as though at a Catholic boarding school for the delinquents of Las Vegas. “Really, we have a client on the table waiting for a professional masseuse to go in there and give him his money‟s worth.” Another round of laughter echoed throughout the room. “Tim, go take care of him, please.” Hilda looked exacerbated, shook her head and waited for Tim to leave before turning back to the group of massage therapists. “Yeah, go get him, Tim. Give it to him, Tim.” “He wants it deeeeep, Timmy.” Samantha Monroe turned to her stocky, yet slightly handsome co-worker and his sidekick, a petite blonde from Kazakhstan, wanting to high-five them both for sticking it to the arrogant know-it-all, Tim Wyland, but instead feeling the weight of defeat on her shoulders, slumped down into a plastic chair and sighed. The room held a refreshing scent of body oils and snap dragons, with the random assault of candy bars and corn chips during break time. Hilda placed a hand on her shoulder, a reassuring touch much like a mother would, and spoke softly, “You‟ll get there, hon. Takes years to perfect the art of

7

massage. You‟re just starting out. You‟re new to Vegas and need some time to adjust to the lifestyle out here. People come to get the best. One day, you‟ll be the second best.” She concluded her pep talk with a short squeezing motion. Sam raised her head, angled her neck to face Hilda side-on and mumbled, “Second best?” Hilda laughed long and loud. “Honey, nobody is better than the Great Hilda.” Blowing an air of frustration, she peered around the room. She was the youngest of all the staff at Heavy Hands. Straight out of Natural Therapies training school, and fresh off the bus from Nowheresville Nebraska, she had come to Sin City for a change in pace. An adventure. Hell, life experience she wasn‟t likely to get in freaking cornhusker country. She was twenty-four years old, and had only ever had the one boyfriend who dumped her without a second thought the day he left for college. She had remained a drought since, and refused to continue life as she knew it. She wanted to live a little. “This city is different, Sam, takes some getting used to.” Chimed in the dirty blonde from the far window of the room. Sam had yet to learn her name, although had overheard her nickname as bubbles, or busty, or was it Barbie? Anywho, they all fit, she looked better suited for sliding her Stacy Keibler legs and Pammy

8

Anderson tits down a stripper‟s pole, than leaning over some hairy gorilla‟s back sinking her fingers into hot, sweaty flesh. “This city is all about the gambling, drinking and sex. What was I thinking, bringing my massage skills here?” Her retort was rather testy and wished she hadn‟t blurted it out but couldn‟t seem to stop the flow, she addressed the room petulantly, “Unless Hilda turns tricks on her table, who the hell wants to come for a bona fide massage to a place that dishes out actual massages?” “Tsk-tsk, “Hilda chided, slapped Sam playfully in the back of the head and moved over to the bar fridge to grab herself a bottle of water. “Vegas has a reputation, a seedy one no doubt about that, but there are just as many tourists who come here with relaxation in mind. Vegas needs places like Heavy Hands to cater for all walks of life, yes even the morally driven folk, honey.” The room fell into a quiet lull as Sam‟s co-workers went about their business, stuffing their faces with food and murmuring gossip in each other‟s ears as they sat and awaited their next round of clients. Sam gazed out a window as she inhaled heavily. It was dreary looking outside. She spoke more to herself, yet loud enough for the other staffers to hear, “Maybe I chose the wrong career path? Perhaps I‟m destined to be something else.” “Maybe so. You‟re young, go try other trades. Just do it on your off time. I still need you here.” Hilda lowered her nose at Sam, who pondered her boss‟

9

words. “Should have gone to college,” she huffed. Stephie Logan, middle-aged mother of triplet baby girls harrumphed. “University degrees are so overrated. It‟ll be a decade before you pay off the tuition. Then you‟re too old to procreate, and slim-pickin‟s in the man department is what‟s in store for you. I have a Masters in a subject I don‟t even like anymore. I have twice the amount of kids I ever wanted because it was IVF or adopt, and my husband expects me to look and act and dress and screw like I‟m an 18-year-old co-ed all over again.” “Moral of the story…” Hilda said dispassionately to round up Stephie‟s emotional outpour. “Feel around and find what you like and what‟s right for you, hon. And remember, you‟re still on my payroll, so no epiphanies today. We‟re booked solid, and I know you need the cash.” “You say that like you pay us in gold, Hilda.” Kazakhstan‟s sidekick rolled her eyes while addressing the situation. “Should have taken up stripping.” Sam nodded as though it was a solution. Bubbles/busty/Barbie jumped in, “Pays the rent and then some,” garnering half a dozen questionable looks before sitting back in her chair crossing her endlessly long legs, and zipping her mouth. Hilda‟s upper lip curled into a half-smile as though she were thinking hard,

10

then stated suddenly, “Give it a shot, hon.” “What?” Sam reeled back, “I was joking. Totally kidding, Hilda.” Hilda‟s mouth spread wide, her voice lowered to a deep gravelly tone, “You came for an adventure, didn‟t you? Your job application states very clearly, „life experience brought you to slutsville.‟ So I offer you a proposition, Samantha Monroe.” “Ooh, you game?” Bubbly boobs crooned with her Angelina Jolie pout. Samantha scoffed at the ridiculousness of these people. But had to ask the question sitting in mid-air, despite being totally unsure she even wanted to know, “What kind of proposition?” Hilda pursed her bottle to her lips, drank and swallowed, before aiming the rim Sam‟s way as a pointer-stick, “One night at the Pole Position. You get onstage, one song. You strip down to a G-string and work that body you seem to insist on hiding under jeans and a baggy t-shirt. If you make more in tips in one night than I pay you in a day at Heavy Hands, I‟ll double your paycheck for the next six months.” Samantha‟s mouth gaped open. At the words, strip down to a thong on stage? Ironically, no. The idea of a doubled paycheck for half a year was all she heard, honestly, as she jumped out of her seat and screamed, “You‟re on!”

11

Chapter Two

“Holy crapola! What the hell was I thinking?” Samantha stood in front of her full length mirror in nothing but tittie tassels and a thong and groaned aloud. She wasn‟t opposed to how her body looked. Really hadn‟t been vain enough to care she wasn‟t perfect as a runway model, but also hadn‟t ever thought getting onstage at a strip club was likely to happen in this lifetime either. She wasn‟t one for working out, although she had a naturally good metabolism. Her hips were too wide for the stripper garb. Her tits would be virtually nipples on a pancake in the darkness of a nightclub, and her body had no rhythm whatsoever. How was she going to dance her way to richness when she looked like a pear with a kebab stuck up her ass? Drunken men. She would ask Gerald, the stage manager if she could go last for the night, figured the men‟ll be floating in liquor at that point. She‟ll practically look like a darker haired Bubbly Barbie up there. Smiling to herself, Sam ran over to her CD player and sifted through dozens of CDs until she came up with her favorite song

12

of all time. She dropped it in and pressed play. Sam quickly moved to her dresser where she fished out her shirt and mini skirt and put them on, ready to slow strip. Taking a deep breath she took her spot in front of her mirror and listened for, „Hit me baby, one more time‟, to begin.

“You are not playing that song. And we already have a Britney out there, and for fuck sake, get an original costume, will ya‟? Jesus Monroe, don‟t make me regret doing you this favor. I got a reputation to uphold „round here.” Sam bit her lip, frowning at Gerald‟s overly anxious attitude. Ok, so she wasn‟t the most original person on the planet. She could do this. She had to do this. Her pathetic looking bank account and sleazy landlord were counting on this night to go well. She searched the dressing room from head to toe, tried on wigs and costumes and played around with music for the remainder of the evening. Once the sun had set, the ladies arrived and began the lengthy procedure of suiting up and slathering on the make-up that turned them from college students and common housewives, to super-sluts and wonder-whores. Hey, even males desperate for a hard-on this side of Hoover Dam needed a hero. Samantha settled on a cat-suit she would unzip and slip out of. Her long

13

black hair worked perfectly. She would simply turn her kitty-cat ways into an onstage tigress. She purred at the mirror before her as she joined the women who had perfected their routines and went through the motions of gearing herself up for greatness. Samantha felt her heart rate accelerate beyond what she figured to be safe levels for any human being and took one last look through the side curtain and saw a very busy floor. Men were everywhere. The few scantily-clad women spread around the room didn‟t aid Samantha‟s anxiety any, but she had nowhere to turn. She was up next. Quitting was no longer an option.

Brady Buchanan sat among his football buddy teammates in the stuffy nightclub. Strip-club, Brady, your friends dragged you to a fucking sleazy girlsgone-wild joint you vowed never to attend. Sure, it was their week off. Time to let loose a little. But half these guys were married, with kids no less. What the hell were they thinking? Bringing his bottle of beer to his lips, Brady guzzled heavily, felt the icy-cold rush of potent brew scale his esophagus. It felt damn good going down. If he finished off the case, he‟d be good and ready to sit with his eyes half-mast, his tongue hanging out, and his dick soaring for the skies as the girls onstage degraded themselves for reasons unknown to him.

14

Fuck, he‟d kill his little sister if he ever found her in a place like this. As the music to „What‟s New Pussycat‟ started, Brady almost choked on his beer. Raising a fist to his mouth, he cleared his throat and watched as the woman appeared from behind the curtain, clad in full-body cat suit. “Fuuuuuck me!” he drawled with disbelief. His buddies cracked up laughing around him. He looked around and saw nudging and ribbing along the rows of fellow football players as the lady in black leather feline attire took the stage and awkwardly prowled the front row. Brady cringed as she stumbled along in spiked stilettos, her legs gangly as she swayed her hips out of tune to the horrendous music. Brady half-seriously waited for Ashton to lunge from his hiding spot hollering, „punk‟d‟. This had to be a dare. As she clumsily made her way to the edge of the stage she began to unzip her suit. Her fingers were slow and hesitant. Yeah, it was a dare alright. Stupid lady. She managed to bare herself from collarbone to navel and shimmied two narrow shoulders from the tight leather. Brady felt a pull in his crotch as the guys around him whooped and laughed hysterically as she exposed herself. Her tits were tiny, but her nipples were perfectly rounded, tight little red balls of suction, er seduction. He coughed aloud, moved his lower body to a different position to shift his heavy sack and throbbing

15

dick. He tried to avert his discomfort by concentrating on her face and noticed she was actually quite beautiful. Her eyes were deep and brown, big circles of pure timidity. She looked on the verge of tears, as she locked sights on the rowdy bunch of football players laughing hysterically at her, but her mouth curved slightly as she attempted to swab a tongue across her upper lip. Brady felt his gut clench at the sexiness of the simple move. Her nose was short, cute. Her face, kinda wide and plain, but her eyes shone heavy and he felt, he didn‟t know what he felt exactly, but it was something jolting to his sensibilities. The howling laughter of his teammates made him antsy to turn around and swat them as she hopped from one leg to the next and discarded the suit altogether. Her hair was long and sleek down her back, wisps hung erotically over her shoulders and around her nipples. He berated himself for looking again. Jesus Brady, she‟s a stripper, and not a very good one at that. And why wasn‟t anyone stopping her? Surely she had gone far enough to satisfy a dare? He turned his head, angled his view around the room and saw a sea of unimpressed faces on the men who made up the majority of the customers. Not able to take anymore, he stood from his seat, ready to flee the floor. He took one final look her way and saw her tackle the pole. Her G-string was a tiny thread of material that caused his cock to sky-rocket. A hard liquid heat flooded

16

his bloodstream and perspiration broke out of every pore he owned. Aww hell! He wanted to slide his penis between her legs and pump her hard, her hips were wide enough to hold onto as he made love to her from behind. Made love? No, his current thoughts were too damn dirty for such a sweet supposition. Her long elegant back was very appealing. He pictured her hair cascading down along the spine as he ran his hands over the bare skin to reach around her front, cup her tits in his hands and squeeze until she came. The imagery he depicted of pounding into her as her tits bounced up and down got Brady harder than he‟d been in a hell of a long time. As she hooked a leg around the pole and slid down, the room erupted into fits of laughter. Brady cringed as her sweaty legs added speed and had her spinning like a top to fall flat on her face. She gathered herself in the most unladylike way Brady had ever had the displeasure to see, and began to panic, possibly from her tumble head-first into the stage, or more probably the laughing jack-asses in the front row causing a scene. Hell, it was embarrassing to him. He could only imagine her mortification. She got her legs beneath her and fled the stage as fast as her heels would take her. The curtain swooshed around her and she was gone. Brady turned, forced his strong lean body towards the bar, scooted around

17

waitresses with drinks piled high on their trays, and continued on his hasty exit. Then stopped suddenly before he made it to the bar. Shit, Brady, just go. Pivoting on his boot heel, he steadied his weight as if actually debating his next move. He inhaled a frustrated breath, ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension which had settled uncomfortably. Shit, shit, shit! He couldn‟t leave things like this. He shook his head, figured it could prove more damaging than helpful but couldn‟t live with himself should he simply walk away. He followed the path to the backstage arena and hoped like hell she‟d still be in the dressing room.

18

Chapter Three

Samantha came out of the shower and entered the living room in a pair of satin boxer shorts and oversized t-shirt. She was scrubbed clean and although she figured she must look pretty mediocre, she felt comfortable in her skin again. After tonight‟s performance, regaining her confidence and a shred of dignity was all that mattered to Samantha. She sat on the opposite side of the couch as Brady and pulled her feet up under her. “Thanks for waiting,” she gushed apologetically as he sat slumped in her old furniture, legs spread wide. His jeans were the norm but his boots and the shirt he wore looked very expensive. Not to mention the glimmering silver Rolex dangling from a tanned wrist. Hello! He smiled at her, which surprised her since he had just witnessed the most embarrassing moment in her life. Hands down. Ever! His voice was calm, his face offered a casual air of confidence. “No problem. I kinda need a shower myself after being in that place.” She smiled wide, grateful for his ability to dismiss her awful attempt at a strip show. She didn‟t know whether to laugh or cry at her stupidity for thinking

19

she could pull off such a stunt in the first place. She grew up an only child and as a youngster, she loved to dress up and dance around the house for her parents and their friends. But this wasn‟t small-town Nebraska. She was way out of her league. She looked at the man across from her. Brady. Nice, strong name, she mused. Why was it he didn‟t find the overwhelming humor in her that his group of friends did? She studied him awhile before speaking. His hair was neat and trimmed around his face. As he smiled, he revealed a beautiful row of bleached teeth—ok, he definitely had money. His eyes were green. She hadn‟t been able to tell earlier in the club or on the short ride home as he drove her car for her. She had wanted to get out of that place as quickly as possible and he was all too accommodating to aid in her escape. She was too mortified to take the wheel and he was all too willing to stuff his long legs and broad shoulders into the front seat of her mini and get her the hell out of Pole Position‟s parking lot. They had exchanged names, but that was as far as the conversation went. “Why were you there then?” Samantha stated the obvious for lack of anything better to say. He leaned forward, braced his tight tanned biceps onto his knees and blew out a deep breath, “Peer pressure, I guess.” Samantha nodded. She had certainly noticed the group of men and assumed

20

their physiques were those of professional athletes, not that she followed many sports. It piqued her interest enough to ask, “Where are you all from?” “South Carolina.” He drawled. She assumed it was for her benefit, as he didn‟t have a southern accent prior to that moment. “Ahh, the deep south.” His smile halted as his eyes locked in on her. Samantha felt her tummy flip over at the intensity of his stare. He was gorgeous to look at. His body, pure strength, and she was having really dirty thoughts of what he was capable of doing to a woman in bed. It had been a long time since she had taken a guy to bed, years in fact. Hell, she had practically turned back into a full-blown virgin and was itching for a taste of Brady‟s sweet breath on her skin, the taste of his mouth as she curled her tongue around his lips and felt the heat ignite from his hungry, aggressive tongue as he bathed her mouth in kisses. Her pulse quickened as she allowed her eyes a feast of his firm, prevalent body sitting on her couch merely two feet away. At the ridgeline of his lap she focused on the bulge beneath his jeans. It was huge and appealing. She wanted to go over and straddle his lap, rub her clit along the length until she burst, slide onto him, wet and tight and make him come while calling her name. Whoa, girl!

21

Samantha swallowed as she tried to shake the image. She shouldn‟t be envisioning such a scene with the guy who got her away from the sleaziness of Pole Position as it was. The guy was clearly—somewhat—decent. Dragged to the strip club for a guy‟s night out by, like he said, peer pressure. She imagined it was worse for a guy amidst the testosterone-fueled world of sports. “Um, what do you play? I assume a sport of some sort.” She hesitated saying anything at all, but pouncing on him wasn‟t an option. Well, a decent one anyway. “Football, my first year pro. It‟s been an adventure alright,” he gruffed, then nodded his head towards the kitchen. “Got anything to drink?” Samantha, thankful for something to do, leapt from the couch and sprang forward to take control of the situation and make the guy a drink. Get him drunk, he may forget the pathetic performance you just subjected yourself to. “Sure thing. What do you like? I‟m not much of a drinker, but I have some beer and spirits stocked for when people that stop by or friends come over.” As she turned to hear his response, she almost head-butted him when he came up behind her. She felt the wind being knocked out of her. His cologne was sweet and enticing, giving her a head spin. His hands were warm and large as they caught her around the waist. “All of it.” He murmured as he slid his hands over her hips and rested them at the base of her breast. “Every damn thing about you,” he moaned before pressing

22

his mouth to hers. She allowed the moment of numbness to take over as she kissed him back, soft and slow. He pulled back slightly and looked down into her face. To her surprise, she was nowhere near ready to end his bone-melting touch. “I, uh…” His smile seemed genuine as he answered for her, saving her again from an awkward situation. “You taste as good as you look, Samantha. You should feel relieved you‟re out of that feral club and away from assholes who‟ll use and abuse you as quickly as a Kleenex. But you are a very beautiful woman. You must know that, too.” She swallowed hard, tried to keep eye contact without losing herself in the deep pools of lust glaring back at her. “I‟m a total dork…” He leaned forward, pressed two fingers to her parted lips to silence her, and growled, “You did something to me, like a bolt of lightning. I just can‟t shake it. I look at you, touch you,” he rubbed his other hand gently up her bicep to rest on her shoulder, massaging lightly to recoil the kinks, “and I desperately want to take you to bed, but I‟d be just as satisfied holding you all night as I would fucking you from every angle.” She scoffed at his attempt at gallantry. “Well, that‟s awful sweet of you,

23

Brady. Quite the romantic, aren‟t you?” He matched her smile and replaced his fingers with his mouth, where it roved over her lips so slowly without prodding. It drove Samantha insane. She leaned into him. He was a mystery alright. One she wanted to unravel. Right now! On a moan, Brady pulled back again, murmured against her cheek, “Have dinner with me tomorrow night?” Samantha reeled back in shock. “What, like in a date?” The word had become a rather foreign one to her over the past few months. Brady chuckled lightly. “Yeah, that‟s the idea. I want to see you again.” He shrugged a huge shoulder at her. “Oh, well, sure, I guess I could manage that.” She gnawed on her lower lip. Manage that? That sounded terrible. She wasn‟t much of a dater, and frankly, how many single people in Vegas actually dated anymore? She was under the assumption they got drunk at a bar, hooked up and went someplace to screw the night away. That may have been a tad exaggerated now that she lived here and had gotten to know a few of the locals, but wasn‟t that what had drawn her to the city of sin in the first place? To live a little. Jesus, she couldn‟t win for losing. She was now under the assumption she wasn‟t built for this city, but

24

damned if she was a quitter. She would make a go of a life here if it killed her—or shamed her in the process. She took every challenge and gave it a hundred percent, always had. It was ingrained. She would damn well get screwed before she tucked tail and went home to Nebraska, where she would likely die a dried-up old prune. Of all the luck, she would meet Mr. Chivalry, who would more than likely take her to dinner, possibly a movie or show before heading home to the other end of the country. Well, she wasn‟t one to back down from a challenge. And Brady Buchanan had just become a worthwhile endeavor in Sam‟s book. She was desperate to get laid, and the football player with the sexy green eyes was damn well going to sate her suppression. He was her hero after all. The guy had saved her from a pack of hysterical hyenas and offered to drive her home. A modern-day knight. She figured she owed him a debt of gratitude, and what better way to say thanks than giving a man what men love most… sex. She smiled saucily at him. “I‟m free tomorrow. Pick me up at six?”

25

Chapter Four

“When are you headed back to South Carolina?” Samantha pressed the glass of merlot to her lips and sipped, her eyes peering over the top at Brady as he set his silverware down and picked up his napkin. She didn‟t need a response. He was here for the night and that‟s all she needed for now. Living for the moment, she had a very sexy pair of panties on under her dress. She had gone on a shopping expedition during her lunch break and asked the lady behind every counter what would work best. She had garnered the same response every time. “Honey, a man is a man is a man. Take your pick. You even indicate what lies beneath the dress and he‟s yours.” Wow, she really had been living the life of a naïve flatlander. She let the rich fluid slide effortlessly down her throat, pooling a deep heat in her belly where she felt the delta between her legs moisten with arousal. “A couple more days.” Brady also grabbed for his wine, kept his eyes on Samantha and drank until it was all gone. Samantha‟s tummy fluttered over and she uncrossed her legs as she felt the ache deep inside. Her heartbeat picked up and she felt the heavy throb of blood

26

flow coursing through her entire body. Oh God, she wanted it. Wanted him. As though he could feel her discomfort he added, “Wanna go check out a movie?” His brows rose and she felt deflated. He didn‟t want to rush her off to bed. She knew it. She was no good at this seduction shit. Samantha replaced her glass gently, let her eyes wander to the tablecloth and fingered the stem of her glassware. “You know one of your football buddies would probably have been more fun to go…” “I don‟t want to go to a movie with any of them. I asked you, because I like you and want to spend as much time with you as I possibly can before I leave.” Samantha, stunned at his sharp tone, lifted her head and looked him headon. Opened her mouth and simply uttered an, “Oh.” She felt giddy like a schoolgirl all of a sudden. Wanted to scream, “He likes me, he really, really likes me!” but held back due to the aforementioned dorkiness she already owned. She changed her tune and said with a happy sigh, “A movie sounds good.” “Think of it as foreplay,” he crooned as he flagged down the waiter for the check. Sam swallowed again, snapped her mouth closed in fear of saying something stupid. Her body was on fire for this man and as his gaze clashed with hers again, it held it for only a moment before dipping low to slowly scan her upper body.

27

“I went shopping today, bought the dress,” she blurted out, not able to hold her breath at his torturous gaze. “I like.” He murmured as he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, his eyes never wavering from her breasts. “Oh, well I‟m glad you do, I thought it was a little…” “Foreplay, Sam. It‟s called foreplay, and I‟m going to be busting a kidney to get inside you by the end of the night, so you better start thinking about how you want me to get that dress off you if you want it left in one piece.” She opened her mouth again in a large “O” only to whisper an incoherent, “Oh, well, ok then.”

Samantha felt weightless, opened her lips and tasted him back. Her tongue took on a life of its own as it delved deep into his, lapped against him, not able to get enough of his salty taste. She rose onto her toes to get higher, closer, and he pushed his body against hers. They walked backwards to the counter where he lifted her onto it, spread her legs and positioned his body between her thighs. “Oh God,” she sighed aloud as he angled her face and meshed their lips together. It was a hot, hard kiss. Samantha could barely breathe, and held it in for fear of stopping him. It was incredible. She was on fire and wanted so much more from him. The slight grazing of stubble on his lower face was like sandpaper to a

28

match. He pulled back slightly and tackled the top buttons of her dress. Once it was slid off her shoulders, he ushered it down her torso, lifting her ass as little as possible to pull the fabric from under her where he carelessly flung it to the floor. He unclasped her bra and peeled it away at a slower pace. His eyes scanned her bare chest, she felt the heat rise in her body. Her breasts ached to be touched, and on instinct she curled her back and pushed them out towards him. Her head screamed a silent, “touch me, touch me.” Brady needed no coaxing. As he lowered his head, he took a nipple in his mouth and suckled gently. Samantha writhed beneath him as she felt her body hum in delight. Her pussy throbbed at the blood flow as she parted her legs wider, rubbed up against him until he stopped and looked into her face. “You taste good, Sam, but I need more.” “What do you want?” she asked on a stammered breath. A tad confused at his not wanting to devour her like a ten-ounce rib eye. Foreplay had been going on forever, and she didn‟t know about him, but she knew damn well she was on the verge of exploding. “What do you have?” he turned his attention to the fridge, and her eyes widened at the prospect. “Uhh, don‟t know.” She was dizzy, about to slap herself in the head for

29

stuttering at him and blurted, “Can‟t remember. I seem to be drawing a blank.” He emitted a deep chuckle, eased up on her and reached sideways for the refrigerator door. He yanked it open and searched the shelves, before holding up a container. “What‟s this?” Samantha frowned, “Guacamole.” He pondered it a moment and then put it back, came out with a tub of whipped cream. “Perfect.” “A can would be perfect. Cliché, but perfect.” “I can work with a tub, believe me Sam. Tonight, I can work with just about anything.” His eyes shone sexily, caught hers and locked into place. Samantha‟s heart skipped a beat. Oh God! She grabbed his shirt front and pulled him against her, ran her lips over his mouth and murmured with carnality, “Prove it.”

30

Chapter Five

Samantha leaned back, her hands splayed on the countertop as Brady sent his tongue swirling along her heated skin, lapping up the cold cream he‟d slathered all over her upper body. They had rid each other of all clothing and were enjoying the tastes and scents and movement of hot, aroused bodies. As Brady traveled down her stomach and over her belly button, he hunched down and placed his head between her legs. Samantha leaned further back, angled her hips higher and spread her legs wider. Felt her muscles tense as the touch of his tongue teetered at her labia, tickled her clitoris, and nipped at her inner thighs. Sam panted as her breath became stronger, heavier, suffocating. She moaned louder as he stroked her gently, his fingers applying slight pressure up and down her thighs while he devoured her with his strong mouth, a suctioning motion, his tongue sliding up and down the flesh and causing friction across her clit. She came hard, a gushing of sweet release as he ate her up. Her body was a series of tight convulsions as the aftermath rocked her to the very core of her being. She exhaled short and choppy screams of euphoria as she steadied herself, raised her head and glanced down at Brady. Liquefying like warm caramel, she was ready to slide to the floor. .

31

“Christ, I could suck you all night,” he said as he made his way back up her body. Samantha grabbed him around the neck and plastered his mouth against hers, licking her juices from his lips, reveling in her own climax. Brady groaned, stepped back slightly as he shifted his cock between her legs and probed her moistened center. Leaning forward, she pushed against him. “Get inside. I want you inside me. Deep. Hard.” A smile curved his lips as he pushed back, not willing to give in to her request. “Look at you turning all mighty minx on me.” “You bring out the best in me,” she smiled at his softening eyes, his hardening face. He used his hands to mold her breasts, his fingers toying with her taut nipples as she felt her body ignite all over again. He wanted her, all of her, and she‟d be damned if she didn‟t give him all that she had. “Tease me some more, Brady, make me come again.” She purred, pulling him closer, wrapped her body tightly around him.

Brady felt the purr like a slap on the ass. Maybe she wasn‟t as inexperienced as he first thought. Perhaps it was her decision to get onstage and strip down to practically nothing? He would play along. “What are you willing to do,

32

Samantha?” He grabbed her around the waist and scooted her towards the edge of the counter, helped her off and cooed in her ear, “How far does your fantasy go?” She lowered a hand and cupped his crotch. He felt his erection pulse at the feel of her warm skin as she used her hand to pump his shaft. His balls ached with a dire desperation to release, but he wanted more tonight. He watched as she closed her eyes and sifted her fingers through the dense dark patch of hair and pulled her lower lip through her teeth and groaned as she massaged him. “Fuck, Sam, you do this for a living?” he croaked as his head went fuzzy, his cock about to explode all over her fist. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Let‟s see what else I can do.” She bent down on her knees and took him in her mouth. Brady threw his head back and clenched his teeth to keep from finishing. He tried to think of anything but Samantha‟s luscious mouth slow-suctioning him. Those beaded nipples on soft, silky breasts. That sweet juicy pussy erupting in his mouth. It was all futile. Samantha was all he had on the brain. She was all he wanted. He reached down and clasped her shoulders, indicated she stand before him, which she did. She reached to the side cabinet, gathered a condom and went about expelling it from its wrapper and rolling it along his rock-hard shaft. Hastily he turned her around, bent her body over the counter while he dipped his hand into the large tub of whipped cream and slithered it down her

33

spine. Slowly he moved his fingers, swirls of white over her olive complexion gave a cream and coffee contrast down the narrow line of her back. He continued his path over her plush ass and down her thighs, where he followed shortly with his tongue. Tasting her inner thighs, he licked upwards, along her cheeks and slid his tongue along her anus. He felt her tense, clenching her muscles as he continued his ascension to her lower back. Where he pressed his rigid body against her, he fit snugly between her legs and his poking caused her to spread them even wider. “Sam, I want to fuck you now,” he growled in her ear.

Sam felt a shudder escape along her skin; his body was hot and heavy behind her. Masculine and desperate for her. She obliged, angled her ass back and reached an arm around, clasped him in a fist and guided him to her throbbing pussy. He sunk in, groaned and stopped deathly still. “Not so fast, I want to feel you from the inside.” His breath was ragged, hoarse and deep. Sam felt a hand rub the flesh beneath her breast, his other hand sliding against her clitoris. His hip movements were slow as he allowed his fingers access to her most sensitive of places. She gasped at the electrifying touch and her body reacted. She grinded her ass further against his cock and called out as the friction

34

against her nub hit another high. Brady pushed forward, grinding into her fully. His groan of release matched hers as she felt his penis stretching her, lengthening inside her, and the eventual torrent of hot heat as it filled her with carnal comfort. Samantha collapsed against the bench as Brady let out a heavy groan and slid himself out of her, gathered her in his arms and whispered, “We gotta do that again.”

35

Chapter Six

“Samantha Monroe. That‟s your full name?” “Why are you grinning?” Samantha threw the pillow at Brady as he kissed her bare knee. “What‟s so funny about that? Sounds like an ordinary name to me,” she replied curtly. He braced a cheek on his hand and danced his fingers along the length of her leg, “It is. I just find it amusing why you chose to come out in a cat suit to the music...” “Stop right there! You are not seriously going to put me through that horrific night again are you?” At her outburst, he chuckled back at her. “Wasn‟t all bad, was it?” he gazed at her with heated desire. “No, it turned out pretty damn good actually.” She scooted down the bed and placed a hand on his chest, felt the light sprinkle of dark chest hair and circled a nipple. “Why were you onstage, Sam?” At his questioning tone, Sam snapped her head up to look at him. He wore a frown she was expecting. “Was it a dare?” She shook her head. “Not quite. More like an offer.”

36

“A proposition? For what? Honestly, I hope it was worth it.” He seemed upset with her. She rolled out of his reach and sat up, scooted her tush towards the headboard and brought her knees up, where she promptly rested her chin. “No it wasn‟t worth it. I‟ll be the butt--no pun intended--of all jokes at Heavy Hands for months, I‟m sure.” She blew out a lengthy breath, tried to insert a laugh but failed. Brady shifted his own body to a fully sitting position. “Then why go through that? To face a fear? I know most people have a phobia of getting onstage?” She laughed. “Hardly, I used to entertain my family all the time in our home, and I admit coming to Las Vegas I thought--for a split second--I could add to my day job by working nights as a stage performer. A tasteful one of course, but realized this is a city above my level of conceitedness.” She grinned at him trying to cover her disappointment in not being able to follow through with a distant dream of hers. She added on a deep sigh, “But also not the reason I did it. I actually think I may have created a fear of getting onstage in front of an audience now.” “Quite possibly,” he looked pained as he said it, added with more distaste, “Was it for money?” Sam blew out another frustrated breath and held back the berating of herself she so desperately felt like doing, so she nodded slowly by way of response. She knew she couldn‟t lie to his face. He would know.

37

Brady pulled her closer, embraced her against his sturdy frame and held on tight while she nuzzled close to his heat. “You have nothing to be ashamed about, Samantha. You are a gorgeous woman with one hell of a sexy body, and that inner dork you talk about, only turns me on even more. You‟re smart and sassy, and have more passion in you than any other woman I‟ve met.” Samantha smiled against his chest, praying he remained such a pillar of strength and continued on his quest to uplift her where she fell flat. He was letting her know he cared about her emotions and the possible turnout of her actions. For reasons unsure to Samantha, she felt an incredible sense of loyalty and trust from this man that she hadn‟t felt since she was a little girl being cradled in her mother‟s arms. She could do anything with this man. Wanted to do everything with him. Unfortunately their time together was limited. So she would do all that she could to create a lasting memory in his mind. Perhaps he would remember her one day, and think about the dorky massage therapist he let out of her sexually stagnant cage and turned into a bona fide wildcat, Samantha Monroe from Las Vegas. As she already knew in her heart, there was no forgetting Brady Buchanan. She had only wanted, expected a night of hot sex. He made her believe there could be so much more. She would give him as much.

38

“Ready?” Samantha called from the walk-in closet, adjusted the corset and waited for Brady‟s, “Hell yeah,” from the bed where he was lounging seductively, the sheet draped over half of his naked body. She kicked a leg out the doorway and bent the knee, giving Brady access to her gartered leg. As she heard him moan, she slid her body against the doorjamb and into the bedroom where she went to turn on the music and began her slow unveiling of flesh. She made her way over to a chair and used the back as a prop, bent over it and grinded her middle in mid-air along with the music. The sharp drum beats caused a rhythm that had her body moving in ways she never thought she was capable of. She rolled her hips, stuck her ass out in Brady‟s direction and bent down in a squatting position before rolling back up ever-so-slowly. She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and peered backwards at Brady. He lazed against the headboard, his erection evident beneath the sheet. Green eyes hung low, hooded. His lips were slightly parted, and Samantha was sure she heard a mewling sound coming from those lips. She turned around and made her way to the edge of the bed, lifted one leg and placed it on the side of the mattress where she unhooked one garter belt and slowly rolled the stocking down her leg. She switched legs, repeated the motion

39

and turned with her back to Brady. She slithered her body like a snake, shaking her bare behind slowly as she made her way to the floor and back up again, bending over she gave Brady a front row view of what lay beneath her scanty-panties. She turned around again, bent down onto the mattress where she crept slowly across the soft cushioning and up Brady‟s body. Covering him, she straddled his lap, and pressed against his hardened cock. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and he emitted an earthy, “Christ, you‟re sexy.” He grabbed her hips to pull her closer, only to have her push them away. Shaking her head she whispered, “Not yet.” His eyes strained on her barely-there lace panties, his chest rising and falling with every roll of her hips. She slid a hand down her stomach and between her legs. Brady groaned, reached his hands up again for another touch. And again she swatted them away. “Think I‟m ready for the stage this time?” She teased, not quite sure if she was just yet. “Oh yeah,” he forced through a tightly clenched jaw. “But I‟m not. I don‟t share well, Sam.” “I‟m doing it to get over my newfound phobia. You know the saying, you fall off a horse you get right back on again, otherwise…”

40

“I‟m aware of the phrase, Sam.” “So what‟s the problem? It‟s not like I‟m doing it for the male attention.” “Then do a talent search, and no, not that kind of audition either.” He slapped her ass playfully, “This is all mine.” He squeezed the flesh. “Are you planning on sticking around a little longer, then?” “As long as it takes.” “For what?” She shook her head, surprised at his response. “To convince you to move to South Carolina with me.” Her hips stopped mid-circle. “You serious?” “Never more so.” His eyes still focused between her legs, his voice deepening with every strangled breath. His neck reached for her, his mouth inching closer and closer to her flushed skin. “I can‟t just give up my career,” she scoffed at his nonchalant way of making decisions regarding her life for her. He shrugged two wide sculpted shoulders and said flippantly, “What is it you do out here that you can‟t down there?” She mulled it over, gnawed at her cheek. “You‟re right. I can do it in South Carolina, or Hawaii, or Timbucktu, for that matter.” She felt a shiver of excitement sluice down her back and nestle between her legs. It did sound good. After last night, Brady Buchanan demonstrated he was someone worth pursuing further. She

41

just wasn‟t sure she liked his way of assuming she‟d be all-too willing to pack up and move in with a man she only met a night ago. She had heard playing hard to get worked wonders. Perhaps it was worth a shot from the newfound Samantha Monroe? “So you‟ll move in with me?” “I haven‟t decided yet. I don‟t want to be with a man who doesn‟t trust me…” “I trust you.” “…to do something to get over my fears because he‟s insecure,” she added dryly. “There‟s nothing wrong with a man claiming a woman. All I‟m asking is that you keep your clothes on in the company of strange, sleazoid men. The only stripping I want you doing is for me.” He sat up further placed a quick kiss on her stomach and made a smacking sound for emphasis. She grinned fully, let out a quick chuckle. “Sounds fair enough. But be forewarned, I will be getting back on the proverbial horse one way or another.” “And I have no doubt you‟ll do it, Sam.” “But for now, I‟m gonna need some manly assistance getting this awfully restrictive corset off.” She lay back on the bed and awaited Brady to get to work.

42

Chapter Seven

“Ready, Ms. Monroe?” “I think so,” Samantha peered through the closed curtain and out at the guests. Brady sat slab-dab in the center of all his teammates and close friends. As she adjusted her dress and wig she motioned for the prop hands to commence. Her hands felt damp, her breathing hard enough to cause a bobbing motion in her tiny tits, which she wasn‟t totally unhappy with at this point. Adrenalin fought to free itself from beneath her itchy skin. It was her moment to shine. Or crash and burn, yet again. She shook her head at the moronic idea that something was going to go wrong. Her life was a series of wrong turns and she would continue to tell herself, “stick to what you know,” but wasn‟t sure if she believed it anymore. She wanted to branch out and try new things. After her life lesson at the Pole Position, she had made up her mind to go another route. A different path to what she had known all her life. A slightly unconventional bend in the road could be just the direction she was looking for. As the lighting dimmed and the music stopped, everyone drew their attention to the double doors of the kitchen. The football clubhouse was decorated

43

in the team‟s colors and mascot, while the families and attendees wore formal attire for the function. There was a fancy spread of food and an open bar. The live musical guests stood quietly on stage, drumsticks in hand, guitars placed against amps, and microphones switched off, as they soundly watched and waited. Samantha felt the platform move and held her breath in anticipation. Once the drum roll began she took her position and waited for the float to open up so she could rise to the occasion. Balloons were released from the ceiling nets and confetti was blown into the air, showering her as she revealed herself. She glanced at Brady who wore a smile the size of the stadium, his eyes never leaving Samantha‟s direction. Dressed in a tight red dress, her hair coiled under a platinum blonde wig, her makeup pale, her full lips doused in fire-red lipstick. She held back a smile at the wide eyes and elated faces watching her. Actually enjoying her, she began to sing… “Happy Birthday… Mr. Quarterback.”

Brady sat in awe of his lover as she sang her heart out. She was stunning on stage, her feminine hips filled out her Marilyn Monroe dress beautifully; her boobs were pushed up and the pale curves spilling over the rim was instantly arousing. Her face, despite now being smothered in make-up and God only knew what other kind of crap, was simple and subtle and the most sensuous thing when in the throes of passion. Her gorgeous black hair pinned beneath the bleached wig

44

was erotic as hell as he visualized how she would pull it off and shake her hair out, let it float across those sexy breasts, all the while dancing to her own rhythm on her way to him. To him. He let loose a tight groan and repositioned his body, hoping he could contain his desperation to release his throbbing cock from his jeans long enough to get through the number, before rushing Marilyn back out to the kitchen. He noticed his friends eyeing his woman and felt his gut clench at the possessiveness taking over. He knew he was the luckiest son of a bitch to walk the earth, but couldn‟t shake the fleeting notion his gut was dishing out. Samantha Monroe had gotten over her stage fright awfully quick. And was obviously adept at turning his teammates into drooling hound-dogs on a whim. What the fuck was going on? Thoughts of her bedroom expertise had him floored as to how she could be a catastrophe at Pole Position one night and come out clad in a corset and sex him up like a pro at said strip club the very next? It was baffling to his usually sharp people-perceptions. Was Samantha Monroe really a massage therapist? Or a gold-digger at a club, perfecting her art of manipulating men with money for a cushier lifestyle? “I don‟t want to be with a man who doesn‟t trust me.” He shook the voice in

45

his head. He knew his Samantha. The way she worked him over when they were alone, their bodies in heat, on fire. The eagerness to taste and tease. The hunger didn‟t die down, the need never fading. Samantha just hadn‟t realized her full potential yet. She was between careers. Lost in transit as to which row to hoe. He was being a jackass, thinking she was some chameleon leading a secret life. Samantha Monroe was simply in need of life experience. And who better to teach her the ways than a football star who had fallen ass over eyebrows for a certain sex kitten in sultry Marilyn garb. He smiled widely at her heavy eyes, her pouting lips and her angelic voice as she captured the attention of the entire audience.

“I have a proposition for you.” “Uh-oh, sounds… scandalous.” Samantha giggled and threw the wig at Brady as he laid her back on the bed, circling her collarbone with a large finger as he nipped at her ear. “Actually it‟s more subtle than scandalous,” he grinned back, nuzzled her neck, and inhaled the fresh scent of her hair, reveled in the taste of her skin. “To finish off my birthday surprise, how about a back rub?” Sam peered over at him, hesitant to respond, but had to be sure she heard correctly. “A back rub? As in a massage? What happened to hot raunchy sex? I

46

thought you were completely unable to control yourself and wanted to do really naughty stuff to me when we got home?” She leaned closer, cooed in his ear and sunk her teeth in to draw a reaction. Brady purred in appreciation and moaned as he pulled away and sat up, looking down at her he said in a husky voice, “Oh baby, we will get to all that, but first,” he turned onto his belly and laid down, naked ass in the air and said, “but first, show me what you‟re made of Samantha Monroe. I wanna know precisely what you left behind in Las Vegas.”

Brady awoke to an empty bed, stretched his arms above his head and yawned long and wide. Smiling. He was definitely grinning from ear to ear after last night. His doubts put to rest as he knew deep in his heart they would be. Samantha Monroe was a good woman. The scents of bacon and toast and eggs and coffee infiltrated the entire bedroom and caused an aggressive rumbling of Brady‟s stomach. He shucked the sheets off his naked body and rolled out of bed, ignored the phone ringing in the distance as Sam would likely pick up the landline in the kitchen, and strolled to the bathroom. Brady made his way down the hallway en route to the kitchen. The smells were so intense. So incredible he was on the verge of drooling like a Bull Mastiff.

47

His penis hardened, lengthened, his balls clenched fiercely. Samantha was in need of some gratitude for making him breakfast. He grinned widely. Oh yes, today was off to a hell of a start. He rounded the corner and entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks. “Who the…?” Samantha turned around to face Brady. His jaw fell to the polished European tiled flooring and his heart ceased pulsing in his chest. Speechless. Stunned by the vision in front of him. She wore nothing but a starched white apron, tied against the nape of her delicate neck and around her waist. Her ass was full and round and causing chaos to Brady‟s crotch. Her back was flawless and silky as the dark red hair hung down in long tresses. She turned around and displayed the front of her apron, the words Cum „n‟ Cook glared back at him. Speechless. “Sit down, eat while it‟s hot.” She spoke with a soft tone, maneuvered her saucy body to the table and practically pushed Brady down into the chair. Keeping her palm splayed on his wide, strong shoulder she smiled at him, “What do you think?” Brady blinked a few times, looked from his lover to his plate and didn‟t know where to start. “Sam?” Seemed like a good enough beginning.

48

Samantha giggled. “Yes it‟s me, silly.” “What‟s with this?” He lifted a hand to her hair, twirled the thick red hue between his fingers then slowly lined a finger against the hem of her apron. “Where‟d you get it from?” he frowned and added quickly, “Not that I‟m complaining, shit, it‟s, it‟s sexy as… fuck it‟s just sexy.” He gushed stupidly before he could stop himself. “I made it.” She responded happily. “You made it? From scratch?” “Sure did. I‟ve been playing around with a few career moves and think I‟ve found my calling,” Samantha beamed at Brady. His heart was heavy with love for this woman. She was fascinating and liberating, and so eager to please, in and out of the bedroom. She was a force to be reckoned with. Feisty and kind-hearted. And she was all his. “Gonna share it with me?” “The phone call I just took was my new boss.” She tucked her lower lip between her teeth and grinned like a little girl barely able to contain her excitement. “I‟m going to be a costume designer.” Brady scooted his chair back and angled his body towards Sam. Reached for her and pulled her onto his lap where she steadied herself and wrapped her arms around his neck. He clasped two firm hands around her jaw and kissed her long

49

and slow. When he brought his head up her eyes were closed. His heart swelled at the sight. The red wig was distracting, but a prick-tease to say the least. “Baby, you‟re gonna be awesome.” “Thanks. Because I‟m going to need your help.” She sunk her breasts against his chest, lowered her head and nipped at his shoulder. She swirled her tongue along the hard cords of his neck. Instinctively he ran his hands up her bare back, where they found their way inside the apron and motioned around to her front. Her nipples tightened at his touch. His strong, capable hands against her soft silky breasts felt so natural. So right. “I‟ll do whatever you need me to do, Sam. You name it,” he murmured in her ear, a deep hungry growl, his heat at a steady simmer. “I‟ll need to model my costumes and garner honest feedback. You up for that?” He groaned. Nuzzled longer. Gripped harder. “Think you can handle my dressing up for you, Brady Buchanan?” “Does it include the undressing, too?” Samantha reached a hand up and pulled a tie from her neck, the apron fell away from her upper body revealing her breasts fully. “I was counting on it.”

The End 50

http://www.lisaperryfiction.com

Author Bio Lisa Perry was born in Australia. A middle child among two brothers, she became the quietly confident little bookworm. At 18, her fiercely independent streak broke free and Lisa embarked on a year abroad in the United States. Having kept a journal of her adventures, she captured much more than mere memories. Four years later, she married her All-American boy (Cowboy boots and all), where they settled in Southern California. Three adorable children later—a lot less sane but a whole lot wiser—Lisa spends her days writing an array of genreromances. Creating, researching, and beating her head against a wall, all the while living out her very own Happily Ever After.

Red Rose Publishing Bourbon Street Heat

51