Page 3 of Time Out

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.

I’m heading for the door with her stumbling and yelping as we go. Feeling her soft curves under my hands makes me want to eat her fucking alive. She’s got the sexiest fucking little tummy roll, and don’t even get me started on that five-handful, five-alarm ass she’s walking around with like it’s not about to set this place on fire.

Her age may say she’s a woman, but she’s not. Feelings I’ve never had surge through me as her strawberries and cream scent invades my very being, shaking me down to my foundation.

“Whoareyou?” Her fluttering voice wraps around me like a warm blanket. “I have to do thistonight, you understand? It’s taken four gin and tonics to get out on stage, Ican’tdo that again! I need the money. If I don’t dance, I don’t get paid. If I win…”

God, she sounds desperate. She’s a lamb in the lion’s den, and as much as I try to push away my own depraved thoughts, they pound inside of me like a primal drum, imagining those sweet round cheeks decorated with gobs of my sticky release.

I stomp and grunt through the crowd, holding her hard at my side, straight-arming anyone that comes too close. I’ve got her down the back hall and out the exit into the chilly night air which is swirling with the scent of cigarettes and marijuana.

A small group of dancers, and what are either patrons, pimps or boyfriends, shoot us a look, but don’t say anything as I half drag my little strawberry treat toward my black Bentley.

“I’m not going with you. Let me go!” She’s fighting now. The shock of me dragging her ripe, round ass from the stage and out into the night must be wearing off, and she’s catching on astranger is about to kidnap her. She kicks up a good fuss, and my dick only gets harder.

I pin her against the side of the car, holding my thumbprint against the sensor, and the passenger door clicks open.

“You like it rough, shortcake?”

I brace my forearm just below her neck, the fingers of my other hand finding the cheap shiny red and blue fabric covering her breasts and yanking it down.

She yelps and sputters, her hands slapping at mine as her eyes widen, searching my face for some clue as to just how much evil she’s about to encounter.

But, God, with that look, I feel her wiggling her way down inside me with those baby blues, and there’s a pain in my chest as my balls tighten and my sense of right and wrong dissipates into the night.

Hatred roils through me even at Wilson for allowing her into the club. For letting her put herself in the position to have other men look at her, let alone touch her.

Her tits are the things of legend. Those scraps of fabric barely covered her nipples, but now that I’ve exposed the entirety of their beauty, I almost blow down my leg. The nipples are round as the top of a cupcake, with her areolas and nipples drawing tight in a deep pink, making my mouth water.

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