Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
The announcer’s staticky voice comes back through the speakers. “For all your BBW pleasure, do we have a treat for you! Up first is a fresh, cherry-picked amateur, ready to give you a first look at all the curves you can handle!” The DJ continues his introduction as Guns N Roses’ ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ ramps up. The whistles and catcalls start from the gathered hounds, and whatever is about to happen is the main event. “Give a round welcoming applause to our first up and a stripper stage virgin, Fay Wraaaaaaaaay! Paws off this one, you filthy gorillas! Unless of course you want to slip her a hundred, and we will find you a VIP room where it’s don’t ask, don’t tell!”
The place erupts as the stage curtains flutter, then pull back just enough for the girl to appear. Everything in the room goes dark, except for the look of terror in those blue eyes.
I’d know those eyes anywhere.
And that fucking body. Jesus, even under the baggy clothes from yesterday, this is the prize package I knew she was hiding.
Rage tangles in my core and burns over my skin.
It’s a lucky thing for every man in this place that I left my Glock in the car, secured in my glove box, because otherwise, I’d be reloading right fucking now.
The bright lights turn her innocent eyes to slits as she shuffles forward with arms wide like she’s walking a tightrope on those ankle-breaker Lucite platform shoes she’s wearing.
Jesus, it’s her. It’s really fucking her.
Every fantasy over the last twenty-four hours, of mounting her from behind and fucking one hot fucking load of jizz after another into her soft body, suddenly comes streaming back.
Wilson said he vets the dancers, right? She’s gotta be 18.
Fuck, God, please let her be 18.
Men are leering and salivating, and I want to shove my thumbs into every eye socket in the place and listen to the sound of eyeballs popping as they burst, never to soil her with their leering gazes again.
I want to leave this place looking like fucking Scarface went to fucking town in here, with blood splatters and testicular matter flung everywhere, and piles of bodies left as a testament to the lengths I will go to protect what is mine.
MINE.
I swear the glorious sensation of her silky walls wrapping around my dick as I slip my hands around the soft warmth of her neck is as real as my throbbing hard-on. Her hair is held in two bobbing pigtails on the sides of her head, one dyed red and one blue, and I want to grab onto them like handlebars and spread her tonsils with my cock as I give her a good, hard face fuck and teach her about the only man flavor she will ever know from this day forward.
I’m on my feet. Wilson catches the murderous intent in my eyes and tries to head me off with a grip to my bicep.
I shoot him a look, and he lets go, and my heart is about to ram through my chest.
I throw a roundhouse punch at a guy humping the air, screaming something about his dick and her fat bottom.
“Jesus, Hudson, you okay?”
I leave Wilson and his questions behind me, throwing myself toward the air-humper until he’s on the floor, gasping, then leap onto a long string of pushed-together tables that lead toward the stage, walking them like a runway, kicking glasses and beer bottles to the floor as I go.
Two bouncers start to rush me, but I hear Wilson calling them off. Lucky for them, because I’d have no problem leveling this entire place to get to her. I’d burn Rome to the ground to protect her. There’s maybe thirty or so guys in here by now. I’d take them all on.
She’s mine.
Either it’s God’s work, or the devil is playing a hard fucking joke. How else would it be that the girl I’ve been obsessing about shows up, packaged in a red and blue bra and thong, and delivered to me like a Fourth of July firecracker?
Her eyes connect to mine as she takes her first awkward spin on the pole, nearly falling to her knees, losing her balance, but I’m there to catch her.
I’ve got you, baby.
“I got a thousand bucks right here!” A guy leans over the edge of the stage, waving a wad of cash. “You give me first shot… I pay you another thousand when you get on your knees for me, sugar!”
I scoop her up in a bear hug, then deliver the heel of my boot into the disrespecting motherfucker’s face, sending a spray of blood from his nose as I lock her against me.
“Hey!” she tries, but I’ve got her hauled off the stage, breathing fire, as I rip the ‘Chubby Chaser’s Night Every Thursday!’ banner off the wall and wrap it around her shoulders, covering her from wandering eyes.