I will admit to having a schoolboy crush on the girl for as far back as the first day I laid eyes on her at the Black Bear over a year ago. She’s young, hot, blonde, tits to write home about, and a tight little ass you could only wish feltandtasted as good as it looks—it does on both accounts.
Once I found out she was hitting the stage over at Stilettos, I made it a point to be there on a nightly basis—mostly in the back, mostly hidden from her line of sight. I’ll admit, it broke me more than it turned me on. She wasn’t full-on naked, but that’s not what tore me up. There was a desperate nature about her, something that shook me to the core and screamed that could be Lucky if I’m not careful. Lucky doesn’t realize it, but there is a far more concerning reason I’ve stepped up to be the father figure in her life after our own dad passed away. I read an article once that girls lacking a male figure in their lives were much more prone to end up in abusive relationships or working at shitholes like Stilettos.
I’m not sure why any of those other dancers never elicited that sense of grief I felt when I saw Daisy up on stage, why I felt so brotherly, and at the same timeunbrotherlytoward her. Maybe because I saw her outside of that environment first with a backpack slung over her shoulder, knee socks up to her thighs, hair in a ponytail. Maybe it’s because I’ve finally found a girl who could actually hold my attention longer than fifteen minutes. Either way, I want to protect her the way everything in me demands I protect Lucky.
Think Ink is bustling this Friday night, but I’ve got Dusty and Gunner working the chairs and Honey up front, so I take the rest of the night off and take Rex up on his offer to try to kick my ass in pool. By the time I get to the Black Bear, Rex and the boys are already nursing a pitcher of beer, laughing their asses off. I know for a fact the first game at WB is coming up, and Rex is set to strut his stuff. I won’t miss it.
Rex and I played Pop Warner together before his parents shipped him off to greener scholastic pastures. I played football all the way through high school, kicked some serious ass, too, but graduation came and that good time ended. I needed to help out my mom and take care of Lucky, so I got a job down at the local tattoo parlor. Old Biff died, and I took over the business, renamed it, booted it up to the twenty-first century, leveraging everything I didn’t have to buy new equipment, making the inside shine until it actually looked like it might be worth something, and here I am. Think Ink makes more in a year than I ever thought I would in a lifetime. I’d like to think that was my old man looking down on me with a smile, but God knows they don’t have windows in hell. My mother, on the other hand, saw some of the glory for herself before she passed.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out. A spark of hope spears through me, and for a brief moment I’m convinced it’s that girl who’s been haunting my mattress. I don’t know why the hell Daisy would ever call me, with the small exception of telling me off. But not to worry. It’s a text from the formidable, impossible to shake, Jody Kyle.
Hey, Jet! Jody from Skyways Productions. We’re having a casual get-together at the Jepson Inn Thursday night at seven. There will be three other groups of production companies along with a few clients. It’s a great way to get your feet wet before you decide either way. You can speak to several other business owners who have already participated in the documentary. Would love to see you there. This is a great opportunity for you. I promise!
“Jet, my man.” Rex slaps me five before I smack Cade and Owen over the back.
“Let’s do this. I’m here to kick your asses in pool just like the doctor ordered.”
“Tables are full.” Rex stands, as do the rest of them. “The girls said we could swap when we were ready, though.”
The girls. That means Daisy is at the end of this eight ball rainbow. My gut tightens like a cable stretched and ready to snap at the idea of seeing her outside of the bedroom. We’ve been hit-or-miss back at the house with the exception of her nightly visit to sit on my face.
We head to the back, and each pool table has a small crowd amassed around it. In the corner, I spot that petite little blonde who’s decided that rocking my bed is her new favorite pastime. But I’m the lucky bastard.
The light hits her just right and adds a halo effect to her already angelic features. Daisy could easily be a model. If I spotted her on the street, and didn’t know a thing about her, I would have judged her harshly, just another WB debutante parading through life on Daddy’s money—pricey ride, fully loaded with all the bells and whistles, not the oxidized silver Honda she drives—a nice off-campus apartment in a secure building, penthouse, of course, full view of both the mountains and the school. The princess would love to see where her subjects reside, but for now, the only subject of Daisy Pembrooke’s resides in my pants, and he is pretty damn happy to serve.
She openly smirks when she sees me and hands her pool stick to Scarlett before crossing her arms over that ample chest as if the sight of me in the light offended her. For all I know, she could be scowling at me in the dark when I’m busy making her my own, but I’m not really too concerned with what facial expression she has going on so long as I hear that whimper, those soft moans that make me ten times harder, fight ten timesharderto please her. She’s not the easiest to get where she needs to be. Her body is tense, too rigid at the start. It takes her a good long while to relax and let me navigate her to that happy ending she’s so greedy to have. But if anyone understands greedy, it’s me. That’s part of the reason I fight so hard to give it to her.
“Dude, you’re staring at her tits,” Owen whispers. “Get a stick and let me whip you a few times with it.”
I break my gaze and do as he says, only I’m not letting anyone whip me. Pool is my game. I’m in it to win it. I don’t go down for anyone—with the exception of Daisy, but that will be our dirty little secret for as long as humanly possible. I’m in no hurry to hear a word from my friends. What Daisy and I are doing is simply blowing off a little steam while blowing each other. She needs an outlet as much as I do, and it’s convenient. It works—for now. I don’t want to think about what might happen when she leaves—the abrupt ending that will make both my dick and me weep.
I can tell by the way she looks at me that she wouldn’t have searched me out on her own. I’m pretty sure I’m not her type. Not that I’ve ever seen her with a dude. I’m guessing she’s into preppies who drive tiny little sports cars that match their tiny little dicks.
It’s Owen’s turn next, and Piper comes up alongside me. “How’s it going with you know who?” she whispers. We’re clear on the other end of the table, and “you know who” is busy chitchatting with Cassidy and Cade, but I’m glad she didn’t call her attention. Daisy can be a firecracker where I’m concerned, not that I mind when she goes off in my mouth.
“She’s cool.” I shrug it off. “How’s Ava? She and Lucky seem to get along.”
Owen knocks his stick to mine as Cade heads up. “Our sisters are fast friends. They like each other.”
“Yeah, they got something else in common, too.” Piper makes a face. “They don’t want anything to do with their big brothers.”
“Not Lucky.” I take a step up to the table and take my shot, landing my balls and six others where those bitches need to be. “Lucky likes my money just fine.” I give a little wink. “I think she likes me, too.” It’s true. I’m funding her spending habits, and then some. Lucky only managed to land a partial scholarship, but the university helped set up a monthly payment plan for me so I wouldn’t have to take out a loan. I have to admit it blows my mind that I’m able to afford as much as I can. As rough around the edges as I might seem to the rest of society, I’m both humbled and happy to be able to pay my bills and then some. I know what hard work is and what it means to drip blood, sweat, and ink to make something you believe in come true. My shop wasn’t an overnight success. It took trial and error, more failure than it ever did victories to land on its feet before I ever broke even. But here we are, my sister in school, and my mortgage paying itself off each month like clockwork. Maybe that’s what has me so tuned into Daisy. I feel her struggle. I know how hard it is to make a dollar and then watch as it melts away before it ever gets warm between your fingers.
A pair of long, creamy stems strides up as I’m taking another shot, and I falter, sending the balls in every direction but the right one. My eyes trace those legs all the way up, bumping over the Himalayas until I hit those beautiful lips that can make an entire infantry of angels cry. Daisy. Here she is with that I’m-going-to-hurt-you look on her face.
“You want a turn?” I hand her the stick like some bumbling idiot, and she balks at it as if it were my dick. Not true. Daisy doesn’t balk at anything I give her once the lights go out. In public, however, that seems to be a very different matter.
She gives a heavy sigh. “I’m going to the bar. You need anything?” She sounds like a pissed-off teenager who’s just been forced to be nice to her brother—a brother she very much hates.
“I’m good.” I watch as she sashays out of here and note about twelve different guys doing the exact same thing. Can’t blame them. She’s a fine specimen. If only they knew what she’s capable of in bed, how shockingly compliant she is with my every command, they might have followed her right out the door. But the only people following her out the door are her friends. I turn to find Cade, Owen, and Rex all woefully staring at me as if grave news were coming my way.
“What’s wrong?” I’ve learned not to panic. I used to panic as a kid watching my dad beat my mother to a bloody pulp, praying to God he’d take him in the night, waking up drenched in urine, only to find my dad gearing up for a second act of his deranged behavior. We never seemed to get mercy, but we always got act two. I doubt Lucky would still be after that tribute to Daddy tattoo if she knew who he really was, and what he drove people to do.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Rex swipes the stick from my hand and leans on it like a post. “Anything wrong with you?”
Owen shakes his head. “I think what you meant to ask is, what’srightwith you these days. Anything you want to share?”
“Like?” I’ve never been a fan of pop quizzes or guessing games, and this feels too much like both for me to ever enjoy.
