My Prerogative Read online

  Since it was the middle of August, my place was still flooded with sunlight, even though it was just dinnertime. I’d kept the curtains closed in the vain hope that my unit wouldn’t turn into an oven. Despite my lack of clothing, a layer of sweat popped up on my skin within seconds.

  Uncaring of my nakedness, I pushed back the heavy curtains that shaded the room and slid the patio door open.

  It was sort of weird to be standing on my own deck in the nude in broad daylight, but freeing too. I loved the sun on my naked skin when I was on a foreign beach, but I’d always tried to keep that part of my life separate. When I was home, I worked, I hung out with friends, and I . . . worked some more.

  When I was away from home, I truly played.

  Only I needed to play now.

  The DVD player was in the corner of the room right next to the patio doors and I loaded the disk into it before going to take a chair from the kitchen. I set the chair a couple feet in front of the TV, with the back to the screen.

  The movie loaded and I flipped through the menu to my favorite scene. Then, pulling the six-inch silicone cock out of its silk storage sack, I slapped it onto the chair and grinned when the suction cup on the bottom took hold.

  The next best thing to the real deal.

  Flopping on the sofa, I watched as the woman onscreen got on her knees between two naked men and started sucking one cock, then the other. I cupped my breasts and tugged on the nipples until they were red and tight, shooting pleasure straight to my core. When the moaning on-screen started to get loud, I remembered the open patio door and turned the volume down with one hand while the other traveled over my belly to my sex.

  Thinking about sex for the last hour had me so excited my clit was already hard and sensitive. I tugged on the piercing, rubbed the jewel against my clit once, twice, three times and I was up. This was not going to take long at all.

  Bracing my hands on the back, I swung my leg over the chair and let the head of the dildo nudge my entrance. Tilting my head, I inched lower, my thigh muscles starting to tremble with the strain of going slow. The head breached my entrance and I lowered myself onto the dildo.

  I was wet and more than ready, but with no lube it was still a tight fit.

  Pain mixed with the pleasure and I pushed down harder as I watched the girl on-screen get a cock shoved up her pussy from behind while the second guy fucked her mouth. They were a wickedly beautiful trio.

  Finally it was all the way in and I was so full a guttural moan ripped from my throat. Fuck, I loved being full. I loved the tinge of pain that shaded the pleasure soaring through my system. I loved the raw naughtiness of fucking myself in broad daylight while the scandalous sounds of the porn filled the room.

  With my feet planted on the floor and juices flowing so fast, I was soon bouncing up and down, and moaning louder than the people on-screen. Sweat slicked my body and my insides clenched. This time when I thought about the open curtains, the sunlight, and the fact that someone might hear me, my cunt clenched. I closed my eyes and imagined the hand that reached down between my legs wasn’t mine. Rough fingers circled my clit, tugging on it until my back arched and my mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure.

  I sat for a minute, still full of fake cock, with my arms folded across the back of the chair and my head resting on top of them. The grunting, panting, and sighing coming from the TV told me I’d beaten my celluloid friends to the finish line, and I laughed.

  5

  She was glorious.

  Harlan Shaw stood near the window of his loft and stared across the street in amazement. He wasn’t in the habit of spying on his neighbors. He’d been staring out the window chasing his muse when a movement had caught his attention, and he’d focused on the naked woman opening her patio door.

  A petite but well-rounded woman with curves and softness in all the right places. A woman with breasts that jiggled with every move and hips rounded enough to get a good grip on.

  When she’d dropped onto the couch and started playing with those breasts, Harlan had been a bit surprised. He didn’t know many women bold enough to run around naked in broad daylight, let alone masturbate.

  He stepped closer to the window and watched, mesmerized as she played with herself. When she’d stood up and straddled the chair in the middle of the room, he finally noticed the rubber dick sticking up out of it and realized he’d found his missing muse.

  “Such a dirty girl,” he murmured in appreciation.

  The sun danced over her skin as her breasts bounced, and she rode that cock. Harlan’s own hand covered his crotch and his thumb stroked the hardness beneath his zipper. He could easily take himself out and join her in her naughtiness, but he didn’t want to be distracted. He just wanted to watch.

  The expression on her face, the way she moved, and the way her hips swiveled . . . she was pure animal in heat. There was no pretense or coyness, no tentativeness at all in her movements. She was on the hunt for pleasure, and it was intoxicating to watch.

  Her head went back, black hair streaming over her arched back as her breasts thrust forward, the tips glinting in the sunlight. Harlan held his breath, his eyes glued to her face as her eyes closed and her lips parted.

  Christ, how he wanted to hear her scream.

  6

  On Monday night the energy was high at Risqué nightclub and I was rockin’ it out behind the bar. The heavy beat of the music had my blood pumping and my hips swinging as I poured drinks and collected money with an ease born of too many years on the job. The holiday was over, and I was back in the swing of real life.

  “Next!” I called out as one customer turned away from the bar with a Paralyzer in each hand.

  A good-looking, muscle-bound guy stepped up to the bar with a big grin. “Hey, baby. We missed you here last week,” he said.

  “Sorry, Jack.” I flashed him my patented wicked grin. “I was too busy lying naked on a beach in Jamaica to come to work.”

  The bouncer from one of the downtown clubs hooted, his eyes roving over my chest appreciatively.

  “I wish I’d been there. Maybe you’ll show me your lack of tan lines later?” His eyebrows jumped suggestively and I laughed.

  “It was a good time. What can I get you tonight?”

  Just then a second hottie stepped up to the bar. “C’mon Jack. Drinks now, flirt later.”

  “Back off,” Jack snapped at his friend and I bit back another laugh.

  Jack smiled at me and ordered a couple of beers before turning and mumbling something to his buddy. The guy probably wasn’t even twenty-five, but Jack had been flirting with me for months. Every time he came into the bar he asked me to go home with him at the end of the night. It was flattering, and I’d been tempted to take him up on it a time or two, but I’d learned my lesson years ago. Fucking the regulars was a bad idea.

  Plus, I wondered if he knew that I was ten years older than him if he’d still give it a shot. Or maybe he did know, and that was my appeal. Maybe he wanted to be schooled by an older woman.

  I gave a mental shrug. Stranger things had happened.

  Setting the two beers on the bar, I quirked an eyebrow at the boys. “Any shots to get your juices flowing?”

  That was all it took. Jack ordered three tequilas, straight up.

  One of the keys to the bar making money is shooters. Sex on the Beach, Blow Jobs, Porn Stars, Tequila, Gladiators, Sambuca . . . and most customers didn’t know until they walked up to the bar that they really wanted a shot. It was my job to lead the way by making sure they associated drinking shots with a damn good time.

  I pulled the bottle out of the ice well and with a flip of the wrist spun it around my hand until it was upside down and filling the lined up shot glasses. I dropped it back into the well and smiled. “Twenty-seven even, Jack.”

  He handed me the money and nudged a tequila closer to me. “For you.” He and his friend picked up the other two, we clinked glasses and shot them back. The slight burn down my throat was pl
easant and my insides warmed.

  “Thank you, gentlemen.”

  Jack’s friend leaned on the bar and put his hand over mine. “Now that the drinks are out of the way, what’s your name, sweetness?”

  Oooh, this one thought he was a real stud.

  Jack gestured to his friend. “Kelsey, this idiot is my buddy Dave, visiting for a week from back home. Dave, Kelsey’s the shit. Don’t mess with her.”

  With a wink at Jack, I leaned forward and smiled pretty for Dave. “And I’m definitely not sweet, little boy.”

  “I’d be happy to prove that I’m anything but little,” he tossed back with a chuckle and a leer worthy of a true pervert.

  There was a clear light of intrigue in his eyes. The guy was good-looking, but it was obvious he wasn’t used to having to work for his women. Which just made me want to work him up some more before I turned him down.

  Yeah, I could be a real tease when I wanted.

  “Size doesn’t matter if you don’t know what to do with it.”

  “Let me show you what I can do with it.”

  “Dude, Kelsey don’t do pretty boys like you,” Jack said. “Leave her alone so she can do her job.”

  I winked at Jack and blew him a kiss as he pulled his friend away from the bar. Dave would be back to take another run at me; some guys could never resist a challenge, especially the young, cocky ones.

  With nothing to do for a minute, I just stood there and absorbed the energy of the club.

  Like any nightclub, Risqué was dark inside, but that’s where the similarities ended. The converted warehouse was huge, with an upstairs VIP area and a couple of pool tables, and a separate room under the stairs for private bookings. The dance floor was in the middle of the place with a raised stage at the front, four cages surrounding it, and colored lights flickering over it all to the beat of the music.

  Valentine Ward, the owner of the club and my boss, hired dancers, both male and female, to occupy the cages. While the dancers wore club gear, often showing plenty of skin, they weren’t strippers and the club maintained a very classy, yet decadent and uninhibited, atmosphere. It catered to a clientele that ranged from young and cocky, like Jack and Dave, to businessmen, and hockey stars of the NHL.

  Most bars were quiet on Monday nights, with some of them not even bothering to open. Because of that, Val had dubbed Monday nights “Industry Night,” and we always had a pretty good crowd.

  Even better for me was that the crowd was small enough that I could work the front bar by myself (with one more bartender at the back bar and one upstairs in the VIP section, which we kept open to everyone on Mondays). But between the waitresses’ runs and the bar service, there was enough drinking going on to keep me busy. And the fact that they were all waitresses, bartenders, bouncers, or other employees of clubs and pubs around the city made them good tippers.

  On average, I made more on Monday nights than any other night, and I had a good time working it too.

  “Can I call?”

  I turned away from the dance floor and glanced at Callie, the only waitress on shift. So far. “What can I get ya?”

  She called out her order, and I started putting it together.

  “So?” Callie practically bounced in her excitement.

  “So, what?”

  “Did Jack finally ask you out?”

  Callie was a pretty girl in her early twenties. Long black hair, porcelain skin, and naturally red lips. She showed some skin when she was at work, but being a farm girl from a small town, she didn’t yet have the sexy or naughty aura that a lot of cocktail waitresses did, nor the cynicism.

  I smiled at her innocence. “No, he didn’t. And I doubt he ever will.”

  “Really?” A pucker formed between her delicately arched eyebrows. “But he likes you. I know he does. He never takes his eyes off you when he’s here.”

  “That doesn’t mean he likes me, sweetie. It means he likes the way I look.” I saw her open her mouth to protest and I cut her off by holding up a hand. “And while he’s never asked me out, he asks me to go home with him every time he comes in here.”

  Color flooded Callie’s cheeks and I could see her getting insulted on my behalf. “It’s okay, Callie. If he wasn’t a regular here, I might actually take him up on it.”

  “Really?”

  I bit back a chuckle as I put the last drink on her tray. She was so sweet. “Yes, really. I don’t need to be in love to enjoy sex. But sex with regular customers is just asking for problems.”

  She eyed me shrewdly, ignoring the full tray of drinks in front of her. “Have you ever been in love, Kelsey?”

  Caught off guard, I shook my head automatically. When Callie just nodded as if to say “I thought as much” and picked up her tray, I decided that maybe she wasn’t as innocent as I’d thought.

  An hour later I was serving a small group of girls upside-down margaritas and telling them dirty jokes when I saw Val wander by. After their second round of shots, the girls ordered some cocktails, giggling and posturing for my boss.

  “You’re such a brat, Kelsey,” Val said from where he stood at the end of the bar after they left. “Teaching those innocent young things jokes like that.”

  Valentine Ward was a man you didn’t want to fuck with, and if you had half a brain, you knew it just by looking at him. Built lean and lethal, he had long dark hair that he kept tied at the base of his skull, dark eyes, and an aura that could only be called intimidating. He always wore suits at the club, but the fancy clothes did nothing to hide his raw masculinity, or his strength.

  “Me?” I pulled an innocent face at his comment. “Those girls were anything but innocent. If you doubt it, just crook your finger at one of them and see how fast her panties hit the floor.”

  He rolled his eyes and didn’t look twice at the girls still drooling over him. I laughed and continued shaking my ass to the music.

  Not many people got close enough to Val to see the wicked sense of humor he had, but I’d worked for him since he’d opened Risqué years ago, and we had a good relationship.

  “You heading out?” I asked when I saw him jingling his keys in his hand.

  “If you’re good for the night.”

  I had all the knowledge and skills to be the manager at Risqué, but Val kept my title as head bartender because I’d asked him to. Helping him out by opening or closing the bar once or twice a week or doing the liquor orders occasionally was fine, but I didn’t want the responsibilities on a regular basis. I enjoyed working behind the bar too much to give it up full-time.

  “No worries here, boss. John is in the VIP and Steve is at the door, so I can close up. You go home and give Samair a treat.” I wiggled my eyebrows and he chuckled.

  “Like I said . . . brat.”

  “Go!”

  Samair was Val’s live-in girlfriend and I really liked her. She used to run her own lingerie design business out of the extra storage room upstairs, but recently moved to a small storefront, and I knew the couple wasn’t getting as much time together as they’d like. Especially since I’d been gone for the past week, which meant Val had opened and closed every day.

  Val slipped away from the bar and through the swinging door that led to the back alley entrance just as a song ended. Another line of customers began to form in front of me and I pasted a smile on my face.

  7

  The obnoxious ring of the phone woke me up the next morning and I answered it without opening my eyes. “Hello?”

  “Are you still in bed, Kelsey?”

  My mom.

  “Yeah,” I said as I rolled over in bed with the phone to my ear.

  “It’s almost noon.”

  I swallowed a sigh at the disapproval in her voice, and glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even quarter past eleven. “Yeah, and I only went to bed at six.”

  My mother’s sigh was not hidden. “You’re not a young girl anymore, Kelsey. When are you going to grow up and put your education to use?”

  “Wh
at do you want, Mom?”

  “I’m calling about dinner on Sunday. I’m stuffing a turkey, Ariel and Miles are coming over, and I was hoping you’d join us for dinner as well.”

  I tried to think fast but my brain was still asleep. “I have plans.” It was lame, but it was all I could come up with.

  “A date?”

  “Just plans, Mom.”

  “Well, you know you could bring a date to dinner. It would be nice to meet your boyfriend.”

  I was waking up, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. I was not a morning person. “Which one would you like to meet? I have a few, y’know.”

  “Isn’t there anyone special?” Exasperation was clear in her voice. A mother could always hope.

  “Nope,” I said. “Besides, it’s a moot point. I have plans so I can’t make it to dinner.” My only plan was to avoid as many family get-togethers as possible because I really didn’t need to be reminded constantly that I wasn’t living up to my parents’ expectations.

  Shit. I was thirty-four years old, you’d think I’d stop craving my mother’s approval. But it was hard. Deep down I knew that the elusive thing I was always searching for was a place where I belonged. My family loved me, there was never any doubt in my mind about that, but I never quite fit in with them.

  They were all very conservative, and quiet, and normal—and I wasn’t. I liked my crazy job, body piercings, and funky fashions. Having a safe, secure job or getting married and having kids had never appealed to me. I accepted that being part of the neighborhood book club was enough excitement for Mom. I understood that all Ariel had ever wanted was to get married and start a family by the time she was thirty. I understood my dad just wanted a secure job and a steady paycheck. And yet none of them could understand why I didn’t want any of those things.

  “They need an intern and Marley said if you could drop off a resume today she’ll get you an interview.”