Chapter 3 – Linzie
LINZIE
We’re on our way to Avery’s bachelorette party in blacked-out SUVs being driven by two prospects with Gabe, Jake, Hawk, and Declan as escorts on their bikes.
This is absolute overkill, but nobody else seems to mind.
I find it interesting that the men whose women are going to this party are present and accounted for.
“I always thought bachelorette parties were for the women only,” I tease Violet. “Why then, are they all going with us? They’re not staying, are they?”
“You get used to it,” she says.
“They don’t let us go too many places without at least a prospect, especially if there’s a group of us going or if the club is dealing with shit,” Skyler adds. “But mostly, they’re jealous and want to pee a circle around us so everyone knows we belong to them.”
“It also might have something to do with the fact it’s Vincenzo’s club we’re going to. Gabe and Vincenzo have a love-hate kind of friendship.” Violet laughs.
“So, are you all going to be invited to the bachelor party then?” I ask, genuinely curious. “If they get to lay their claim when you go out, do you get to do the same?”
“I mean, we could, but I’m not going to go. The guys will be spending the evening at Glitz ′n Tass with Ghost’s girls for entertainment. That place is not for the weak-stomached, and I am already fighting to hold down food,” Violet jokes.
“So, they get to go to a strip club. One that the club owns, with women who fawn over them and who I’ve heard give free lap dances to a brother in the club. But you must have a group of watchdogs when you want to go watch male strippers? How is that fair?”
The two women laugh heartily as if I’ve lost my mind. Even the prospect driving, Blake I think his name is, chuckles.
“How are you all okay with this?”
Violet’s cheeks are red, and she drops her chin. Is she embarrassed? I didn’t mean to make her feel bad. I just don’t understand how they’re all okay with the double standards of these men. It’s Skyler who decides to answer.
“We don’t mind because our men are the jealous type.
They see us having a good time, getting tipsy, dancing with other men or watching their sweaty bodies for our pleasure, and it gets our men riled up,” she explains, then shrugs.
“Then they take us home and fuck us into oblivion like the manhandling Neanderthals that they are. And we are all the happier to be on the receiving end of that jealous rage and testosterone. My man gives me some of the best dick action when he’s jealous. ”
“That’s why you let Cash get away with his overprotective bullshit. You want Ethan to take you to Pound Town. Well played, babe,” Blake says, impressed.
“She’s not wrong.” Violet agrees.
“Wait. So, you and Cash are close?” Andi pipes up from her phone.
She’s been searching for recipes and building a list of things she wants to try with her catering business.
She’s currently working out of her rental house and delivery truck, so she must keep things simple for now.
But since the clubhouse has an industrial-sized kitchen, and she’s been given permission to use it for as long as she likes to prepare food and cake for the wedding, she’s been going nuts finding new things to make.
She’s been so engrossed in her phone, I thought she wasn’t listening.
But someone mentions Cash, and she immediately perks up.
Skyler smiles. “He’s my big, overbearing, obnoxious, twelve-year-old-boy-trapped-in-a-man’s-body best friend.”
“Got it.” That’s all he says, then Andi’s nose is back in her phone.
“They’re coming in tomorrow, aren’t they? Eli and the guys from Mountain Heights?” Violet asks. “I thought I heard Declan say something about it the other day while talking with Jake.”
I notice Andi look up momentarily, tracking their conversation. When Skyler confirms the guys will be coming, Andi smiles to herself and continues with her scrolling.
We pull up to the Velvet Pearl and wait as the guys come open our doors. Gabe reaches his hand out for me to take, but I stand on my own, pulling my trench coat closed, earning a quirked brow and a warning. “Keep pushing me, Vixen, and I’m going to bend you over my bike and spank your ass.”
“I’d need to give consent for that, and I don’t. So, no, you won’t.” His smile says the hell he wouldn’t. So, I push a little harder. “Your club doesn’t believe in forcing a woman against her will. And what’s with all the Vixen nonsense?”
His forehead creases and his head pops back as if he’s surprised I even thought such a thing, but then his expression shifts. He leans in, crowding me into the open doorframe of the SUV. If I lean any further back, I’m going to drop my ass on the seat.
He keeps his voice low, for only me to hear, but he uses that gruff, growly, makes-my-panties-wet tone of his and says, “First, have you seen yourself in this dress? Temptation in a red silk wrapper. You’re a fucking knockout.
Add in that fiery temper of yours, and yeah, you’re a fucking Vixen.
Second, I won’t have to force you to do anything.
All I’d have to do is kiss you here.” He licks his tongue up the side of my throat ever so gently.
The cool air hitting my wet skin causes goosebumps to rise all over my body.
Gabe’s breath tickles my ear. His right hand, the one furthest away from the spectator’s view, grips my hip as he leans his obviously hard length against my thigh.
My stomach clenches, and my breath comes in pants.
“I bet if I slide my thumb under this sexy slit you have here on your thigh, and reach under the edge of your panties, I’d find you wet and ready for me.
Wouldn’t I, baby? You may still be mad at me, but your body, it wants everything I can do to it.
So, no. I wouldn’t have to force you. You’d be begging me to give it to you. ”
A soft whimper escapes my lips. Gabe chuckles darkly, pulling himself back away from me. Losing his body makes way for the cool night air to slither over my skin, and I shiver again at the loss of his touch. It catches me off guard when he reaches for my trench coat and cinches it closed.
Damn him.
Hell-bent on not allowing him to get the better of me, I move past him, catching up to Andi. She leans her head my way slightly as asks, “Are we accepting defeat or are we matching fire with fire?” My smile is wicked, and my resolve is set in stone.
“Oh, definitely fire with fire. If he thinks he can just turn on the charm and I’ll melt like butter and forget what an ass he’s been, he has another think coming. But first, we need alcohol.”
We get inside, and the hostess, Rene, takes our coats, then a group of shirtless men come to escort us girls to a group of chairs right in front of the stage.
There’s a collective growl from behind us as each male usher takes the arm of one of the Kings’ women.
It’s comical, but we manage to refrain from laughing until we get to our seats.
The men are taken to a separate room down the hall.
“Vincenzo promised to keep them out of our hair for the performance. He’s placing them in a private VIP suite upstairs.
They can see the entire show and watch to make sure we’re all okay, but they can’t interfere with what’s been planned. ” Skyler smirks.
“What’s been planned?” I ask, not sure I like that they can’t get to us if something bad were to happen. It’s ridiculous, I know, but the whole reason they came was to keep an eye on us.
“This is a special show. One that the men cannot be on the floor to watch. Remember the jealousy thing we talked about on the way here?” I nod. “We’re about to put it to the test.”
The place is packed with women. It’s loud and noisy.
The room is filled with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and laughter until the lights dim and the bass drops.
The room erupts with screaming women as a group of shirtless men in black jeans take the stage and start moving to the beat of the music.
Our seats are so close to the stage I can see the beads of sweat dripping down these men’s torsos, and holy hell is it hot in here.
Five dance numbers and two drinks in, the emcee comes on the mic and announces, “This next dance is a special request for Miss Avery West and her bridal party who are here celebrating her last few nights of freedom before she takes the plunge and puts on that ball and chain.” There is a loud clank as a hot, young, chiseled, shirtless man drops a black ball onto the stage beside a wooden chair.
The chain is attached to a strap that’s currently wrapped around the man’s wrist. He's crooking his finger at Avery, gesturing for her to come sit in his chair.
Our group goes crazy—laughing and screaming—encouraging her to get up there.
She stands up, smooths her hands over the front of her long red dress, straightening her “Bride to Be” sash as she moves toward the stage.
She takes the man’s hand, and he helps her up the steps, whispering something in her ear that has her laughing.
The music starts, and the emcee comes back on the mic and calls out, “Wait. Wait. Wait. We have a change of plans.” The room fills with rambunctious chatter as everyone tries to figure out what’s going on.
Seven more shirtless, chiseled men come out to join them on stage. All of them with their own wooden chairs and the same black ball and chain. They drop their balls onto the stage, lean forward and crook their fingers in our direction.
“We need the entire bridal party to join our guest of honor on the stage. Come on, ladies. Don’t be shy. Come, take your seats,” the emcee coaxes. The crowd is whistling and screaming, encouraging us to move.
Andi downs her shot, and I down the rest of my drink in two gulps.
I’m both nervous and excited to see what’s about to happen.
I nearly trip over the steps on the stage when I glance up to the suite where the men are watching us.
Gabe, Declan, Jake, and Mason are all standing near the glass looking pissed as all hell.
Hawk, however, is wearing his signature shit-eating grin.
We all take our seats and watch as the dancers squat down at our feet.
The tall, dark-haired, sexy piece of man-meat in front of me smiles as he grips my ankle and places it against his left pectoral muscle, then velcros the strap around it.
The music starts. They all start moving their hips and working up to a stand, and I have to hold down the middle of my dress to keep from flashing the audience.
When my dancing eye candy slides my ankle higher, straightening my leg, he places himself in a position to keep my modesty.
He begins thrusting his pelvis in my face.
The women in the audience go crazy while watching, screaming obscenities and requests for their turn.
When he drops down, he plants his hand on the edge of my seat.
My leg is now bent at the knee over his shoulder, and his head is turned sideways into my neck.
His hips are thrusting in a sexual motion, inches from actually touching my body.
I gasp, taking in a breath, nervous with him being this close.
My dancer whispers, “Relax. Nothing’s going to happen.
It just looks like it from everyone else’s point of view.
” Then, he turns his head to look up where Gabe and the men are.
I follow his line of sight, and I laugh.
They’re all standing at the window with their arms crossed, looking like they’re ready to tear this place apart.
“Who put you up to this?” I ask.
My dancer, shoving himself up to stand, tosses his right foot up on the chair beside my thigh, being careful not to step on my dress.
His torso is rolling, his hips are snapping, and his smile is devious.
“Sadie talked to the boss and told him she’d pay us each five hundred extra dollars if we made your men jealous.
She’s got a bet she’s looking to win, and she needs them to—how did she put it?
Flip their shit and go jealous caveman asshole on you women. ”
He spins around, twerking his ass in my face, and I decide to help a girl out. Grabbing his hips with one hand, I smack his ass with the other and laugh because they all fucking deserve to watch us have a good time with these hot men.
Serves them right for their double standards.
The music stops, and when I look up the suite has cleared, which means Sadie has most definitely won her little bet.
Those girls are in for a long night.
You could have one too.
No. I will not use Gabe for sex.
One night. What could it hurt? One long, hard, anger-filled fuck and he’ll be out of your system.
No. I can’t have sex without feelings.
Anger is a feeling.
No. I’m so frustrated with myself. Part of me wishes I could just have meaningless sex and walk away.
To finally not care or be affected by his touch or his voice.
He acts like he wants me back, but what if all he wants is sex?
Or worse. What if he wants to try again, but the second something comes up with his club, I’ll get pushed aside again?
It would hurt so much worse to lose him a second time. It’s best to cut my losses now.
But one last hoorah could be so satisfying. A powerful orgasm could be what you need to relieve some of the tension he continues to build. You already know he could get you off repeatedly for hours. He’s quite the giver.
So can my new vibrator.