Chapter 22
Rooster
The women across the room are very animated and chatty. If I didn't know any better, I'd think they'd all been friends for years rather than just having met Morgan and Kaylee.
They keep looking in this direction and giggling, each one looking at their man as if none of the rest of us even exist.
I can't help but smile at how light and happy they all seem. Then I meet Morgan's eyes, and I can see that she’s assessing me for some reason. I want to step forward and go to her, to ask her what her thoughts are, but I don't.
"Are we really going to let this happen?" Shadow mutters as he watches his wife.
"Are you actually willing to tell your wife no?" Kincaid challenges. "I've been with Em for over thirty years, and I can't recall a single time I've been able to tell her no."
"If she were in danger, you'd put limitations on it," Kid says. His smile is different. It's as if he's already made plans on how to deal with their request to go watch a bunch of strippers.
"I can't think of a way watching a strip show is dangerous," Kincaid mutters as if he has run the scenarios through his head and doesn't like that he can't come up with a good reason to halt the idea completely.
"Dangerous for the guys on stage," Shadow mutters.
Forced laughter circles the group.
"What do you think?" Shadow asks Heathen.
My friend shrugs.
"I'm not going to stop her from doing something she wants to do," he answers.
"That's the wrong approach," Shadow says. "You need to make her think it bothers you more than it actually does."
"Are you pretending?" Heathen challenges.
Kincaid laughs. "He's not pretending, but Shadow isn't as open-minded as we are."
"He's possessive to the point that he punched a guy in the face a few years after they got married because the guy took a second look at Misty," Kid explains.
"I'd do it again," Shadow mutters, drawing another round of laughter from the group.
"Why would they want to go?" Heathen asks, sounding increasingly confused.
"They don't," Kincaid says. "They want to rile us up."
"Just tell them no," Heathen offers.
All three men turn to him. Even though I haven't had much experience with relationships with women, I know better.
"So they dig their feet in?" Shadow asks.
"Then it becomes a battle of wills," Kid adds. "That's not something you want to tangle with."
"You have a lot to learn, son," Kincaid says, scowling at his wife, who just grins wider before turning back to the other women, who get a really good laugh at them.
"So it's a game?" Heathen asks.
"Now you're catching on," Kid says.
"What if they really end up going?" Heathen inquires.
Shadow growls, the sound feral and a little unhinged.
"Khloe will get her ass spanked," Kid answers. "But that looks like it's going to happen anyway."
I keep my eyes on Morgan, watching the second she says something to the group before breaking away from them and heading to the kitchen.
"She wants to talk to you," Kid says.
"What?" I ask. "How do you know?"
He simply shakes his head, but the man has been married forever, so I don't doubt he can easily read women.
"Excuse me," I tell them before walking toward the kitchen.
Sure enough, I find Morgan standing there with her arms crossed over her chest.
"Something wrong?"
"What do you think about going to the Stallion Revue ?"
I shake my head. "I don't think it's a show I'd enjoy."
Her eyes narrow, and I can't help but smile. I love that she's asking me how I would feel about it. For a woman who hasn't invested much in other men before, she seems to be coming along rather quickly for me.
"How would you feel if I went?"
I don't know which tact to take with her. The guys in the living room pretend to let it bother them more than it does. Well, all but Shadow, I guess, and their wives seem to like it. Those relationships are solid as stone and have been building and growing for decades. I think it would be ignorant of me to do the same thing with her and this new thing we might be creating together
"You've been before," I say, well aware it isn't exactly an answer.
"I have. It's always a good time."
"Do you want to go?"
She shrugs.
"How do you want me to answer?" I ask.
"Truthfully," she replies instantly.
"I don't like the idea of you going to a show and watching other men rip their clothes off, but I don't own you, Morgan."
Her eyes dart between both of mine as if she's trying to decide if I'm being completely honest.
"Is there a compromise?"
"What do you mean?" I ask.
She shrugs, but her mouth curls up into a smile.
"Playing coy, sweetheart?"
She chews the corner of her bottom lip, and I fucking ache to kiss this woman again.
"Not trying to," she whispers, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she lifts a finger to her mouth, pressing the nail against her teeth.
"I thought we were being honest with each other," I say, inching closer and watching her pupils grow larger.
I run a single finger up her arm, and my cock jerks in my jeans with the way she jolts from the simple touch. I have no doubt we're going to be fucking explosive in bed. Her body is so reactive to the simplest of things. I can't wait to see how she reacts when I actually put some work into pleasing her.
"What's the compromise?" I prod again.
"I don't go to the show, but I still get a show," she says, her eyes locked on my mouth as if she wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss her.
"You want me to hire the guys to come here?"
She shakes her head, teeth once again digging into her lower lip as her hand reaches up and presses against my chest.
"I want you to dance for me."
Of all the damn things she could've said, she chose the one thing that I might say no to.
"I'm not a stripper," I remind her, taking a step back but freezing when her fingers tangle in the fabric of my shirt, preventing me from going very far. "That actually takes a lot of skill and rhythm and coordination."
"You could do the chicken dance, and it would be sexy," she argues.
I consider how much fun she seemed to have even though I sucked at darts and think that she may be telling me the truth.
"Are you wanting me to embarrass myself for you?"
She shakes her head. "Of course not. I'm not asking to make you uncomfortable. I thought it would be a good time, but if you really don’t want to do it—"
"Then you'll go to the show with the others?" I ask, a sinking feeling settling in my gut. I don't do well with ultimatums. I never have.
"Fuck no," she says, her cute little nose scrunching up. "I have no interest in going to watch a bunch of oiled-up strippers on stage. I want to spend time with you even if you're clothed and not dancing."
I close the distance between the two of us, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her against me.
"I think I really fucking like you," I whisper, obsessed with the way her hand presses to my chest, fingers curling with my words.
"Enough to dance for me?"
"Promise you won't laugh at me if I look like an idiot?"
She shakes her head. "I can't do that."
My smile is wider than ever before.
"What I can promise is that it will be a good time for both of us."
"Are you saying I dance first, and then you'll dance after?"
"Depends," she says, inching her face close enough that our noses touch. "What will we do once we're both naked?"
"We'll kiss," I say, brushing my lips across hers. "See where the rest of the day takes us."
"From the sounds of it, we'll have the house to ourselves. Emmalyn said all available guys would have to accompany them for protection. They may ask you to go."
"I can't go," I tell her. "I have other plans."
"They're going to the early show. As much as they want to taunt their husbands, they aren't very interested in experiencing Vegas at night," she explains further.
"I don't blame them," I say.
"Vegas isn't all bad," she argues.
"It's not all good either. Every city is dangerous. Add in the alcohol and inhibitions, and it's a melting pot for crime and victimization."
"I think those men out there can handle any situation they may face," she says.
"I imagine you're right," I agree.
"So we have a date tomorrow?"
"We have a date," I agree, lowering my mouth to hers.
Just like she did outside her bedroom, Morgan lifts up on the tips of her toes to close the distance between our mouths.
She doesn't hesitate to give me access, but the sounds she makes are nearly the same. They settle inside of me, and I swear they're growing.
She rolls her body against mine, moaning louder into my mouth when she feels just exactly how damn turned on she makes me.
I'm not a saint, and I don't require any specific period of time to get to know a woman before I take things to the next physical level. I know that the second my shirt comes off tomorrow and her warm hands brush over my skin that I'll end up with my mouth on her breast and my cock sunk deep inside of her.
Is it tomorrow yet?