A Harem of One [The Moreland Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) (14 page)

“Why?” Her brows were drawn together, with a look stunned and upset, the plaintive tone in her voice giving away her need.

“Get on all fours, Jamie.” He sounded gruff even to himself, but it couldn’t be helped. Every ounce of blood he had presently was in his cock. She scurried to the floor, kneeling beside the table where he met her, too impatient to do anything more than clutch her hips and quickly tunnel his way back into her sodden pussy. If she wanted to fuck, he’d give her what she pleaded for. He took control of every thrust, even as he was out of control of himself. She needed to see what she did to him, and he leaned over her back to cover her thoroughly. One arm wrapped around her belly, the other ratcheted beneath her chin and forced her head up.

“Keep those eyes open for me. Watch it happen. Watch us.” He couldn’t look in her eyes, and that was the only disadvantage of their position. But there were too many amenities to change their current arrangement of limbs. He could watch every inch of her flesh shudder when he thrust deeper and could see the agonizing clench of muscles along her frame. Then he could roam his hands over every inch of flesh she possessed. He assumed she complied as her squirming grew exponentially, though the way he held her captive wouldn’t permit more than the frantic shudders that rolled between them. Soon enough, the frenzy that over took her was too much to sustain. Somehow, she took over even though she was imprisoned. He was the one in prison, her walls manipulating enough to keep him caged behind bars. She was gasping for every breath she took, and he knew that he held her too tight. He just couldn’t let her go.

When he looked up, it was no better. Onscreen their toes were curled, her big toes wrapped over the small ones. His small toes clenched the ball of his foot and the big one stuck straight out. Vanity made him lift up and look behind him, and sure enough her feet were contorted into a fist of gnarled digits. The kinked up phalanges made him grow harder, and he looked away, lest he lose what little sense of self he had left, but it was too late. Jamison had found her pleasure and rippled around him harder, still begging for more. The way she shook as she screamed gave no quarter, ceded nothing, and demanded he give all. The orgasm crept upward, started at the tips of every extremity, and radiated inward before he imploded. His was light-headed and if he wasn’t a grown man, would admit he felt faint. He disengaged the clutch he’d employed on her, but refused to remove his cock. She listed drunkenly to the side, and he let her, following her to the rug to lie on their sides. When he glanced back to the big screen, both of them had come and were lingering in the mired mess of the bed. How appropriate.

It was long moments and a nap later, he woke to find himself hard and still inside her enthralling heat ready for more. But there were more important things to do, namely feed her again, and they needed to get in the bed. He was too damn old to fuck and sleep on the floor anymore. That was best left in his twenties where those types of discomforts belonged. But with Jamison, the sated sleep after sex was the best postcoital nap in his life, and he’d slept on satin with numerous others.

I See Naked People

The first night Marq left her alone was later in the week. That Thursday, he had a meeting with his brothers and a few cronies from work. Jamison had a girls’ night with Mak tonight, to go out for dinner and drinks. She spent more time than usual primping. He normally chose her outfits. But she felt confident in the shiny black leggings she paired with a bright blue off-the-shoulder tunic-length T-shirt. Her hair was left simple, just its usual mass of natural curls held from her face with a sheer scarf. She wasn’t one for jewelry, but the catch-all rule he’d given her was earrings and at least one bracelet, so that was what she did, sliding on a silver wrist cuff, and a set of wide hoops went in her ears at the last minute. She still had time and decided to watch some TV, or at least pretend like she was while she updated her scheduled blog. This time she was doing a throwback movie, as she called it.

Usually, she let her readers make suggestions on their personal favorites and, if she found herself intrigued with the blurb, would watch and feature the flick. The suggested movie she chose,
Secretary
, was a vast departure from her normal blog feature, but it called to her somehow. There was something about James Spader that she adored. Even now she enjoyed anything he was in. But she found the movie enthralling, and the unusual indie tack the film took is what made up her mind. She found herself even thinking about it later, wondering how someone could be willing to give complete control of their existence to another person. The hero dictated how much could be eaten during a meal at a particular time, and Jamison remembered one of the commands the heroine was given to eat four peas and a single spoon of mashed potatoes. The hero even regulated how the heroine would get home after work. The man told her to walk, and she did, and he punished her for every small mistake with glaring red pen strokes. By the time she got to the end and the couple finally made love, she was in dire need of Marq. But she wasn’t going to get any more of him until probably tomorrow.

He told her he’d be in late, but he expected her in his bed when he got back. Woe and betide her if she actually disregarded the request, and she used the term sarcastically, rolling the wording he used over and over in her mind. Similar to worrying a loose tooth, she let his voice play in her head, prodding the sore spot his commands worked on her feminist leanings. The worst part was the fact that she actually loved the lack of control, not having to concern herself with most of life’s trivialities. By the time she right clicked the scheduler to set the blog update for her usual time, the doorbell was chiming. Makenzie was full of grins and giggles when Jamison opened the door.

“Hey!” Apparently, her friend was überhappy to be walking on the wild side tonight.

“Hey back, girlie.”

Makenzie seemed just a hair too giddy, and a single good look into her eyes showed her that she was blazed. She must have been smoking weed. There was no way her eyes could have gotten that glazed on their own without help from Mary Jane. Jamie had a feeling that their night on the town was going to be one for the record books. If they didn’t find trouble, it was sure to find them tonight.

No matter as Makenzie was shuffling her out of the door. In fact she barely allowed Jamison to turn off the lights as she exited. When they climbed in Makenzie’s new birthday present, a candy apple red Jaguar XKR coupe, and got on the road, Jamison had to ask.

“Rush much?”

“Look here, I haven’t been out in ages. Can an old married lady have some fun? Charyn never lets me go anywhere.”

“Whatever, Makenzie. You don’t let that man out of your sight either. I bet you watch him use the bathroom.”

“I outta kick your ass, Jamie. You lucky I’m fucked up.” But there was no heat behind the words, and they both laughed themselves silly until Jamison huffed for her next breath.

“So where are we going anyway?” Shoot, Makenzie still hadn’t told her. Even when she was trying to get dressed, she had no idea what to get ready for.

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.” Jamison blew a breath out, irritated that she was going someplace and had no idea where to. Makenzie was in the captain’s seat, pushing the car to incredible speeds for simple North Carolina highways. They looped onto I-40, and the bullet of car leapt faster, eating the road in huge asphalt hunks that left Jamie near sick with vertigo during the relatively short trip. She missed Marq already, and he’d only been gone a few hours. He never drove erratically enough to make her car sick. By the time they made it to the club, she was grateful to leave the confines of the too-fast car.

The hole in a wall was small and out in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t even look like a club, but more like a shack packed full of sardines. The only clue that this was where they were headed were the plethora of cars crammed every which way around the structure. Makenzie handed two tickets to a hulking male at the door, and a similarly built female patted them down and checked inside both of their small clutch bags. But when they got inside, the tiny place was jumping, and the packed house rivaled any party she’d been to before, if based on the number of people that could be crammed into a single square foot of space. There was barely enough room for them to slip inside the door, and there were numerous partygoers with their backs to the wall as they entered. The crowd was melting pot of people. All races and differing sexual orientations milled about. She made her way to the bar, seeking a strong drink, and mentally crossed her fingers that she could happen upon an unoccupied seat among the melee of people.

When she finally was able, she purchased three long island iced teas as the wait was too long for her to come back after she’d finished the first one. When she took stock of the gathering, she noted there were dozens of people if not more. The only unusual thing she noted was that the women outnumbered men vastly. There were at least twenty women for every male she saw. It made her curious, but when she approached Makenzie, the music was too loud to pose her question about the disparity in the male-to-female ratio. By the time the volume was low enough to ask, the hostess had walked to the center of the floor with a mike in hand.

“Hey, ladies and gents, are ya’ll ready to see some of the hottest men Kakilaki has to offer?” The crowd at large gave a resounding yes, followed by catcalls and screeches. When the group quieted, the MC laughed and backed away as the ladies grew excited and the crowd’s volume spurred to a fever pitch. By the time the MC called for the first performer, the catcalls and chirping had moved to a single chant.

“
Beefcake
!
Beefcake
!” She even heard one excited woman yell out, “Where’s the beef!”
Ugh.
Makenzie had tricked her into a male revue. Damn it. That was some mess. Mak knew Jamie hated strippers.

It just seemed so tawdry and pathetic, the idea of watching a grown man put himself on display without any hesitation or simple modesty. But that wasn’t the problem. Now she found that the swelling crowd had gotten even more riled up at the start of the music. The women had started yelling and screaming for more, and the man who came out looked ready to give it. His outfit seemed comical, even as he pretended to be in the room alone. The cowboy gear could have been convincing, except for the fact he was wearing ass-out chaps. What grown man would wear something so foolish? No real man, she thought, even as she made assessments on his lithe form. The man was a smidge puny and appeared incapable of breaking cattle or any of the other myriad things that ranch hands did.

But if the idea was comical for the cowboy, the police officer was worse. His outfit seemed like a Halloween fashion don’t. The surgeon was next. He was cute, but his gyrations seemed contrived and a bit too feminine for her tastes. But the women around her were loving every minute of it. There were several making money shower around them, and dollar bills were pooling in the floor. Even Makenzie had gotten into it, and she threw out a fistful of ones with giddy laughter as the bills rained down on the faux fireman’s head. By the time he’d finished, the last performer had made way to the stage. The man was dressed as a dominant, complete with a half-face leather mask, and, with his burnished muscles, he could make any of the costumes she scoffed at earlier look good. He was dark-haired and eyed, the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. She had to admit, even she was enticed with his sensual spin and tango about the floor. He seemed coarse somehow, as if he were going to show everyone the dark side of their own fantasies. She had few left that were unexplored thanks to Marq, but the remaining handful would definitely be memorable.

When the last dancer, Master, finished his set, even Jamie had given up a couple of her own hard-earned dollars. She saw Makenzie walk toward the door and decided to follow her. Before she could reach the exit, a hand clapped on her shoulder. She jumped and felt her heart speed up.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that you dropped this.” When Jamison turned around, she saw the Master standing in front of her in all his chocolate glory. She was stunned that he looked so normal outside of his costume. She would think that with his profession. It would be evident on sight. When she peered at his hand, she saw her glasses. She must be drunk as a skunk if she thought she could navigate the world without them. She took the offering from his large hand with a murmur of appreciation and thanks. But when she turned away, the man wouldn’t let go of the grip he had on her arm.

“I just wanted to give you this before you left as well.” He held out a card. When she glanced at the glossy cardstock, she saw his information along with a hand written number. “This is my personal cell phone number. I was hoping a fine thing like you would be single and maybe we could get to know one another better.”

Jamie was perplexed for a moment. He was asking her out? Like on a date? Men never asked her out. The few boyfriends she had were guys she knew and hung out with, but even they had never asked her on a date. They would merely invite her somewhere or tell her where they would be, and if she came, she came. If she didn’t show, they really didn’t care. Except for Marq. He made her feel like she was the only woman in the world and every day with her was as important to him as the last one was. But it was heady that a man such as this one was giving her the time of day. He could have any of the people here. In fact, she saw nearly every patron dig deep into his or her pockets to toss him money. There was an assistant who ran the floor and stuffed money in garbage bags as the floor collected piles of bills. Any one of them would have taken him home tonight and screwed his brains out.