mound. She turned so no one could see her front, pulled the badge to one side, then the other, and shook her rump. Candy had a wonderfully muscled body. A stripper would have to stay in shape to pull off this act six nights a week.
She grabbed the pole at the end of the bar and rode it up and down, rubbing her pussy against it, using it to divide her right up the middle. The men in the place cheered her on. She bounced and slithered, pulled the spurs, distending her breasts and twisting them around. Until she stood right in front of Jack.
“Come on, Jack,” she sang, “I’m deputizing you. Take off my badge.”
Jack looked uncomfortable. From Charlotte’s description of her assault on Jack’s privates, Alex bet his cock and balls were inflamed. He should have gone home and soaked in Epsom salts instead of coming to the Pussy Club for Candy to turn him on by standing over him wiggling her stuff in his face.
The place smelled of sweat and booze and sex, and Alex bet every guy ogling Candy had a brick-hard boner. Men were urging Jack on; others offered Candy their services if Jack couldn’t come through. Candy leaned over and whispered something in Jack’s ear.
“Come on, Jack,” the crowd roared. “Take off her badge. Take it off.”
With the audience cheering him on, Jack reached up and pulled down the elastic string holding the thin gold metal badge over Candy’s pussy. She stepped out of the contraption at the same time she hopped off the bar and onto Jack’s lap. He wailed in pain. Candy’s performance had definitely crossed the line, especially when she removed the spur and guided one of her huge breasts to Jack’s mouth.
“Giddy-up, horsy,” Candy yelled, as she rode him, bouncing on his lap. Her horsy looked like he’d been rode hard and put away drunk. “Giddy-up,” she repeated.
Jack wailed some more, telling her to get off him. He wobbled woozily on his stool. His eyelids drooped, and he fell to the floor with Candy on top of him, emitting a long, painful groan and holding his dick with both hands to protect her from galloping on top of him.
Alex downed the rest of his drink and left the club. He couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he walked to his car. Once inside, he pulled out the photo of Charlotte. This was nasty stuff. Jack had drugged Charlotte and wrapped her in heavy bondage paraphernalia to take her picture. Who knew how many he took or what he did while she lay helpless and unconscious? Once Alex got the rest of the pictures, he’d give great thought how to bring Jack Davidson to his knees.
But plotting revenge wasn’t the only thing on Alex’s mind. Something Jack mentioned about insider land purchases between Max and Mike Branigan that were making them a fortune raised his hackles.
In addition to protecting Charlotte, he needed to find out more about his boss’s illegal dealings, something he tried to avoid while he worked for the Carpathians. He didn’t care about gambling. Men were going to do it no matter what. Knowing Max and his connection to Branigan, if Davidson found out, someone else might. No doubt it could bring the two men down. And Alex along with them.
Chapter Eight
Doubt
Charlotte glanced lazily at the clock, relieved it was Sunday. Seven a.m. If she slept two hours last night, she’d be surprised. When she finally succumbed, Alex darted in and out of her dreams, his tight, hard body pressed up against her, gold-flecked eyes flashing. She could have sworn she smelled his scent lingering in the air, or maybe a residue remained on her cheek from his parting kiss. Once, she woke with her lips still burning from his touch, remembering his tongue dancing inside her mouth with the delicacy of butterfly wings.
She found herself oddly aroused by dreams of this man she’d known less than a day. The heat of his strong, needy body still smoldered on her skin as her hand slipped under the neckline of her nightgown and stroked her breast.
The Sunday
She grabbed the pole at the end of the bar and rode it up and down, rubbing her pussy against it, using it to divide her right up the middle. The men in the place cheered her on. She bounced and slithered, pulled the spurs, distending her breasts and twisting them around. Until she stood right in front of Jack.
“Come on, Jack,” she sang, “I’m deputizing you. Take off my badge.”
Jack looked uncomfortable. From Charlotte’s description of her assault on Jack’s privates, Alex bet his cock and balls were inflamed. He should have gone home and soaked in Epsom salts instead of coming to the Pussy Club for Candy to turn him on by standing over him wiggling her stuff in his face.
The place smelled of sweat and booze and sex, and Alex bet every guy ogling Candy had a brick-hard boner. Men were urging Jack on; others offered Candy their services if Jack couldn’t come through. Candy leaned over and whispered something in Jack’s ear.
“Come on, Jack,” the crowd roared. “Take off her badge. Take it off.”
With the audience cheering him on, Jack reached up and pulled down the elastic string holding the thin gold metal badge over Candy’s pussy. She stepped out of the contraption at the same time she hopped off the bar and onto Jack’s lap. He wailed in pain. Candy’s performance had definitely crossed the line, especially when she removed the spur and guided one of her huge breasts to Jack’s mouth.
“Giddy-up, horsy,” Candy yelled, as she rode him, bouncing on his lap. Her horsy looked like he’d been rode hard and put away drunk. “Giddy-up,” she repeated.
Jack wailed some more, telling her to get off him. He wobbled woozily on his stool. His eyelids drooped, and he fell to the floor with Candy on top of him, emitting a long, painful groan and holding his dick with both hands to protect her from galloping on top of him.
Alex downed the rest of his drink and left the club. He couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he walked to his car. Once inside, he pulled out the photo of Charlotte. This was nasty stuff. Jack had drugged Charlotte and wrapped her in heavy bondage paraphernalia to take her picture. Who knew how many he took or what he did while she lay helpless and unconscious? Once Alex got the rest of the pictures, he’d give great thought how to bring Jack Davidson to his knees.
But plotting revenge wasn’t the only thing on Alex’s mind. Something Jack mentioned about insider land purchases between Max and Mike Branigan that were making them a fortune raised his hackles.
In addition to protecting Charlotte, he needed to find out more about his boss’s illegal dealings, something he tried to avoid while he worked for the Carpathians. He didn’t care about gambling. Men were going to do it no matter what. Knowing Max and his connection to Branigan, if Davidson found out, someone else might. No doubt it could bring the two men down. And Alex along with them.
Chapter Eight
Doubt
Charlotte glanced lazily at the clock, relieved it was Sunday. Seven a.m. If she slept two hours last night, she’d be surprised. When she finally succumbed, Alex darted in and out of her dreams, his tight, hard body pressed up against her, gold-flecked eyes flashing. She could have sworn she smelled his scent lingering in the air, or maybe a residue remained on her cheek from his parting kiss. Once, she woke with her lips still burning from his touch, remembering his tongue dancing inside her mouth with the delicacy of butterfly wings.
She found herself oddly aroused by dreams of this man she’d known less than a day. The heat of his strong, needy body still smoldered on her skin as her hand slipped under the neckline of her nightgown and stroked her breast.
The Sunday
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