“I don’t know what it is about her, but she sets my soul on fire by simply existing.”
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Hips swaying, she sashayed across the stage with her electric guitar, Venom, in tow. Her swarthy skin shimmered like dark diamonds under the spotlights. Strawberry blonde dreadlocks cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She swept a gaze over the eager crowd. The lights caught the spark in her haunting eyes, adding to her seductive allure.
A jeweled choker adorned her long neck. Fashioned from leather and lace, a crimson corset hugged her torso, and a short plaid skirt flared out over her bodacious hips. Completing her stage ensemble, skin-tight leather clung to her legs, and a pair of red, wedge-heeled sneakers sparkled on her feet.
This woman was a rock goddess haloed in lights. Wielding her mighty guitar, she ruled the stage and everyone beyond it.
Our mistress, Queen Sting.
Stirring with great anticipation, the crowd waited. Not one person shifted their attention from the stage.
A wicked smirk graced her face. Positioned at the microphone, she whirled Venom in front of her and teased the strings with her long, scarlet painted nails. Her glossy lips parted and her tongue slid out, revealing a sparkling guitar pick. She plucked it off her tongue and cooed in a husky timbre, “‘S’up, sexy bitches.”
A voluminous roar bounced off the club’s walls as the sea of people went into frenzy.
“Allow me to introduce my band of badasses!” With one hand wrapped around Venom’s neck, she ripped the pick across the taut strings. The electric guitar released a rebellious cry. It soared through the large speakers like a thunderous strike. “On bass is my Californian playboy… Chase.”
The bright eyed, floppy-haired kid to her left strummed the golden beauty hanging from his neck, drawing screams from the women in the audience.
“On keys, the sexiest man you’re ever gonna lay eyes on… Becca.”
With his lengthy hair draped over the sides of his face, the guy to her right flashed an enticing smile as he fingered the keys on his instrument. The crazed screams only grew louder.
“And on drums, my brotha from another motha… Slice! Hit it, baby!”
Surrounded by a shiny percussion set, the muscular man in the fedora whipped his stick from one drum to the other, delivering a brutal beating. A wild cadence resonated through the building.
“I’m MonaLisa and we are Scorpion Tail!” The band thundered into a hard-edged rhythm with their mistress leading the way. “Say your prayers, ‘cause we’re about to rock you ‘til death!” Her raspy voice surged into song, “It courses through your veins, my sweet, poisonous kiss… Take me again like that, fill me with your painful bliss… Let me thank you for your pretty lies and smiling deceit… I’ll remember you, only for the days of pain and nights of grief…”
Even though the lyrics she delivered were ominous in their nature, her voice was hypnotic. Spellbinding.
Struck in complete awe, Toshiro watched her strum her magnificent guitar, with her dreads swaying wildly about under the flashing lights.
Her gaze locked on him, a sultry smile followed. “Tell me you wanna die, baby, just for a taste… Give me your soul as you fall in my embrace…”
Can she see me through the blinding lights and sea of jerking bodies? The idea she could separate him from the mob was a fool’s fantasy, but the possibility sent an unrelenting shudder down his body. Even though the building was packed from wall to wall with people caught under her spell, he felt like he was the only one in the club.
She’s singing and playing just for me.
His bones vibrated with the heart-thumping pulse, his blood ran hot. The taste of her lips lingered in his memory. The thought of her poisonous kiss tightened his groin. He couldn’t rip his eyes away, no matter how hard he tried. From that moment on, he couldn’t deny it. He was enthralled, bound to her in body and spirit, and he would never be able to live without her.
MonaLisa…
After attaching my bipod, I slipped on my black leather gloves then took my post.
One-thirty p.m. Like clockwork, Deverati’s snowy Bugatti whipped around the corner and parallel parked across the street from Café Josephine.
“Alright Half-a-mil, let’s do this.” I watched the car through my scope, anxious for the moment my mark revealed himself.
The butterfly door on the driver side swung open, he stepped out and the world shifted into slow motion.
“Daaayum,” I breathed out.
The Italian leather shoes, tailored black slacks and tan trench coat fit him to perfection. A gust of wind breezed by and flared his coat’s tail, adding to the magnificence of his striking presence. A pair of dark Aviators hid his eyes. Sheer arrogance poured off of him in waves as he strutted across the street.
When he disappeared into Josephine’s Cafe, the world returned to its normal pace and I caught my breath.
Fuck the pictures! This man was gorgeous. Even his swagger was a thing of beauty.
Before returning to my sniper scope, I blinked twice. “Focus, Monroe,” I whispered as I mentally reminded myself of the mission.
Eliminate the target.
His superciliousness alone justified him as being more than worthy of a visit from my bullet. But, as I watched him walk across the street with his standard large latte in hand, something about him intrigued me, and it wasn’t just his looks.
Superstar, Ripp Collins had the crowd spellbound, enthralled by his beauty and raspy, haunting voice as he belted out a verse. “When you look at me, tease my desire with a mere gaze, it shreds the edges of my soul…”
The indie rock band Devil’s Avenue was under the spotlight tonight, and they had the club packed to capacity.
The pulse of the bass drum and the cry of the electric guitar whipped through the building like a harsh, metallic rock n’ roll storm. The music’s roar mingled with the fans’ zealous screams. Multicolored lights flashed over the performers, adding to the dark and mysterious ambiance they created.
But Ripp… He glistened under the fluorescent beams, like a divine being. Flicking his fingers across the guitar strings, he rocked his hips to the beat, threw his head back, and let out one of his gritty primal cries.
The crowd went wild.
An unwanted smile dared to cross my face. I sat rooted to the barstool at the back of the club, refusing to let his bad boy allure draw me under his spell, like everyone else. But damn, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, which meant, I was already enchanted. Now that I think about it, I’ve been spellbound for quite some time now.
There’s something to be said for lust at first sight.
Redd wasn’t looking for Mr. Right but Mr. Right now. But the moment Nikko walked into her bar she felt that first rush of need. She wasn’t shy about getting what she wanted even if only for one night, which was all her chaotic lifestyle would allow. Besides, not many men wanted to date a woman who worked in a strip club, even if she were the bartender. It tended to make them sneer. She didn’t know which was worse. When they found out she was part owner or when they found out she was a law student. That intimidated the hell out of some. She didn’t really give a damn.
Nikko wasn’t looking for anyone. His life was full as the senior associate at a law firm and he just found out he was being considered for partnership. His life was about to become even busier. Then something happened that left him shaken. What should have been one night of uninhibited pleasure became a weekend, then it became more. How the hell did that happen? And did he want it to stop?
Shaken is also book 1.5 in The Young Guns Series.
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Who is that masked man?
During the day Harper Reynolds might have been a law school student, but at night he was a male stripper. At the very exclusive members only Club Prestige. To protect his identity he wore a mask. But one day someone saw through his facade and suddenly the future he’d planned was threatened.
Nadya Johnson thought she’d always be a marine, at least for the next eight years. But a bullet took it all away from her. Including the man she’d been writing to for years. Someone she’d never met—but she wanted to see him just once. Even if he didn’t know who she was; and she didn’t dare tell him her real name. All she wanted was one night.
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A perfect moment can change it all.
Lani
Ever have that one perfect moment in time, when you know exactly what you’re supposed to do, who you’re supposed to be in life? Well, that had been me, and it certainly had lasted for more than a moment. I’d decided to pledge myself to God and help others in his name. Selfless, that was me and I was weeks away from taking my final vows. Then something happened, I met someone and suddenly I questioned everything.
Rom
I’ve always lived my life on my terms. Granted, I never thought I’d grow up to be a male stripper. But what the hell, I made good money and now, I had a shot at something more. And the women. Yeah, I loved women but they came and went. I preferred it that way. Didn’t matter which of us left first, as long as one of us did. I didn’t do attachments. Then something happened. I’m no saint, but I saved someone and wanted an attachment. Only to find out I could never have her.
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“Thank you again for coming, Lani,” Corrine said, giving me a quick hug.
“Yes,” Lara added, kissing my cheek. “Thank you. Love you. Feel better.” She squeezed my arm.
“I will. Love you too.”
“Want me to help you get a cab?” Lara asked
“No, I’ll just call one.”
“Okay. Text me once you get home,” Lara said.
I rolled my eyes. “Sure, sure.” It’s not like I lived alone. I hadn’t moved out of our parent’s house yet. I wouldn’t until I took my novitiate vows in a month, but I worked everyday and went to church every other day. Only returning to our parent’s house in time for dinner and to sleep.
I made my way to the elevator while my sister and her companions went in the other direction to one of the rooms for the strip show. Part of me was a little curious and wanted to see one, but the other more practical part of me knew I shouldn’t. Having a drink in a bar was one thing, watching the strip show, well something else entirely. Besides, the world seemed a little tilted. I stepped onto the elevator and leaned against the side to right myself. I’d just pressed the button for the first floor when someone stepped on. My head ached so much I couldn’t even glance up to see who I shared the ride with. I stared at the floor and could see the dark shoes and pants legs, the size hinted at a man.
The door closed, the elevator dropped and my body swayed but I didn’t fall.
The man who now stood behind me said, “Whoa!” He held onto my waist as though to steady me.
“Tha—thank—y…” Something was wrong with my voice. My words didn’t come out right. How much did I have to drink? The elevator door opened and I took a step forward to get out when the entire floor spun up to meet my face, but strong hands held onto me.
“I got ya.”
“Everything okay?”
A male’s voice asked, one I didn’t recognize.
“Yeah, she’s fine. Just a little too much to drink.”
I didn’t recognize the one who answered either. “Na…” I wanted to protest, but the arms holding me up were the only reason I could walk forward. I leaned against his strength, depending on it.
I felt myself being placed in the back of a car. The scent of smoke and stale air made me want to puke. “Cab,” I muttered.
“Yeah, cab.”
Hands reached across my lap to snap my seatbelt, pausing to stroke my breasts. Wrong this was all wrong. “Nooooooo!” I cried out.
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