Lucky’s: Miguel by Becca Jameson


by Becca Jameson

“Ah hell, fire, and damnation.” Miguel slapped his leg with his hat and hung his head.

“Dude, what is the matter with you? We just got here. The place is hopping. The music is fantastic. The chicks on stage are fucking hot. What could you possibly have to complain about?” Jeff nudged Miguel’s arm to get his attention.

Miguel raised his gaze to the woman on the stage ten feet in front of him. She faltered in her steps and backed up on the platform, her mouth hanging open.

“What? Her? She’s pretty sexy. I could tap that.” Jeff chuckled.

Miguel glanced sideways at his friend and growled deep until he had the man’s attention.

When Jeff finally looked Miguel in the eye, his smile died. “What’s the matter with you, dude? The chick is smokin’. I call dibs.” Jeff stepped toward the stage, reaching into his back pocket.

Oh, fuck no. Miguel grabbed his buddy by the arm and nearly jerked it out of the socket tugging the man back to his side. “That chick, as you call her, is no ordinary woman. She’s lupine. And she’s mine.”

“Her?” Jeff twisted his neck to get another peek. “Cool. I’ve never done it with a wolf before.”

“And you won’t be ‘doing it’ with a wolf tonight either. Are you listening to me?” Miguel waited for his friend to look him in the eye, his fingers still gripping Jeff’s forearm.

When he finally had Jeff’s attention, the man’s eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “Oh. Ohhh.” He grinned, a shit-eating grin that spoke volumes. “Well, why didn’t you say somethin’, man? I get it. She’s all yours.” Jeff yanked his arm free and made a broad gesture with both arms spread wide, letting Miguel know the coast was clear.

“I believe I did say something,” Miguel muttered. His gaze returned to the stage where his sexy mate had resumed her composure enough to continue performing.

Every few seconds, she glanced his way, her eyes pleading with him. She knew. Oh, there was no doubt in his mind she knew she was his. Her scent drowned out every other smell in the packed room full of sweaty bodies. Hell, sweat wasn’t the only thing hanging in the air. The distinct flavor of female arousal and male cum always filled his nostrils when he came here. But tonight it was different. Tonight the blonde goddess with the deep blue eyes and tanned-to-perfection skin blanketed the room with her own scent to squelch all the others. At least for Miguel.

Lucky’s. The best fucking titty bar in this section of New York. And the crazy part was, the joint was really a male strip club. The owner, Lucky himself, had only recently decided to name one night a week as a female-only strip joint. Miguel and his friends frequented the place most Wednesdays. And the sleek sexy creature currently fumbling her dance routine in front of him had assuredly never been present on one of his nights of debauchery.

He inched closer to the stage. His fingers itched to drag her off the platform and smash her curves against his body. His heart beat rapidly. She wore nothing more than a shiny gold bikini that flashed in the light as the glimmering mirrored ball—a relic from the seventies—spun above her.

Miguel stared at his mate, knowing she’d never forgive him if he jumped up on the stage and yanked her away from the lascivious gaze of all the other men in the bar. And women. He shuddered. Everyone around him would be lusting after her. She was new. A new treat.

Nope, he needed to get a grip and control himself until her set was done. Otherwise, he’d embarrass her and undoubtedly piss her off. That wouldn’t earn him any points in the getting-laid department tonight.

The noises in the bar faded as he focused on nothing but the long sleek legs of the woman he would spend his life with. His gaze trailed down, down, down from her tiny bikini bottoms to her calves. She wore matching gold heels with delicate straps that wrapped around her ankles. He licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to strip the bikini from her and fuck her up against a wall with her wearing nothing but those sexy fucking shoes.

His gaze slowly wandered back up her body. It wasn’t that she was super tall; it was just that she was lean and well-toned. When you added the heels she seemed to go on and on. She probably only weighed about one ten. Compared to his two hundred pounds, she was tiny.

When his gaze reached her tits, he paused. Fuck me. Pert and high and tight. They were real. Just big enough for him to wrap his hand around—or his mouth. And her damn nipples were hard and pressed against the flimsy material of her tiny triangle bikini top. One tug on the string at her neck and he’d have those delicious globes spilling into his hands.

He was one lucky bastard. Apropos for a night out on the town at Lucky’s. Perhaps the name of the bar was somehow magical. Thirty years he’d been living in this city, and he’d all but given up hope of finding his mate. He’d had plenty of women, but none had satisfied his lust. None had been able to penetrate his mind to the point of distraction, blocking out all else until the world around him ceased to exist. Until now.

He scrunched his brow. Why was his mate working as a stripper? The thought worried him. Obviously, she hadn’t been here long. In fact, this might even be her first night on the job judging by her unease—although his stare nailing her to the spot could perhaps have something to do with her discomfort. One thing was for sure—this was her last night. No way in hell would he let her do this again.

Sure, he’d humor her for this one set—as long as the meager swatches of material barely covering parts of her stayed where they were and no one on the floor took it upon themselves to grope her. In those two cases, all bets were off.

As a prosperous New York accountant, Miguel could support his mate without her income. He just hoped her reason for working here had been financial and not some ulterior motive she had to strip for folks. She could do all the stripping she wanted after tonight, but the only visual recipient of her routines would henceforth be Miguel.

His gorgeous mate pranced from one corner of the stage to the other, back and forth in front of him, in a well-choreographed routine with four other equally disrobed women. Before tonight he’d always thought this was the hottest, sexiest way to spend an evening. His opinion of stripping had altered in the last two minutes. Every one of the women was somebody’s girlfriend, sister, daughter, wife… He cringed to consider what other men must go through when the chick on stage was their girl.

Or maybe most of them were single, and their families had no idea what they did in the evening.

When his mate grabbed the pole with one hand on his end of the stage, straddled it, and leaned back to stretch her full length in an arch, Miguel nearly came in his jeans. He reached down to adjust his cock away from the zipper before it could snag him.

She rubbed her pussy rubbed against the shiny pole, humping it up and down several times. He was sure he heard her moan over the screaming crowd.

A man to his left whistled and then screamed, “That’s right, baby. Fuck that pole.”

Miguel had to grit his teeth and ball his hands into fists to avoid punching the man in the gut. The guy didn’t know what the blonde was to Miguel.

A deep voice coming from Miguel’s right side rang in his ear. “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

Miguel knew that voice. Lucky himself. The owner of this establishment. A round sleazy man who gave Miguel the willies. Miguel came here often enough to know the owner by name. Lucky made it a point to pay close attention to all his regulars and ensure they were satisfied. That’s what made his bar the best. And that’s what brought his clientele back time and again.

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat. “She is.” He wasn’t sure what to say. If he seemed over anxious to get in this woman’s pants, Lucky could make his night long and hellish.

“First night. You want to be her first private?”

Miguel turned toward the smirking bastard and kept his facial expression as cool as he could. “Maybe. How much?”

He knew the going rate for a private. And he knew the rules. No touching. No kissing. No fucking. Strictly her fondling him with his arms to his sides. Hell, that would be enough interaction with her to make him come on contact. But Lucky didn’t know that.

Miguel glanced back at the stage. It wasn’t a bad idea. What better way to take her the first time than in a plush private room upstairs where he could claim her body before they left this club for good?

Lucky didn’t realize how much he was helping Miguel out. He’d been wondering how he was going to go ten more minutes without having her. He could smell her arousal every time she sauntered by.

“Sophia.” Lucky stated.

“What’s that?”

“Her name. It’s Sophia. At least that’s what she told me.” He chuckled. “Who knows what any of these girls’ real names are?”

Miguel hoped like hell it was her real name. Sophia. His cock twitched again. Sexy. Smooth. He loved the way it rolled around in his head.

“Sure,” Miguel agreed. “What room?”

“Room eight. I’ll send her there now. This set is almost over.” Lucky waddled toward the back of the stage, leaving Miguel to stare at his back. His luck just kept getting better.


Sophia’s entire body shook as she left the stage. Where had he gone? The dark brooding hunk of a god who had stood with his chest against the stage for the last two songs had disappeared in a flash. One second he’d been staring her down with his narrowed gaze, pinning her to the pole only feet from his face; the next second, he’d vanished.

She’d heard about this event—the moment in a wolf’s life when she found her mate. Some of her friends and family had succumbed. But she’d been in no way prepared for the onslaught of emotions that had flooded her entire body. Her mind had been consumed by thoughts of his dark wavy hair. His dark skin. His dark eyes. She couldn’t shake the visual from her head and had no idea how she’d managed to finish the dance set. Thank God, she’d practiced it so many times, not wanting to make a fool of herself on the debut night.

Now what was she going to do? Her mate was no longer standing next to the stage. Was he waiting in the back for her? And what would he say? His look had been tight and uncomfortable. He’d not been pleased with her prancing around half naked for the world to stare at. He’d made that clear.

But she needed this job—and the money. It paid fantastic, and she’d been unbelievably lucky to land the gig with no experience whatsoever. It was all about who a person knew, and Sophia knew one of the other dancers. The woman, who she’d met years ago at dance class, had always been a friend of hers. When Sophia mentioned her need for cash, Veronica had graciously volunteered to get Sophia this job.

This kind of dancing was way out of her comfort zone, but she could fake it. She had to. She was desperate. It was only one night a week, and the wages were more than she made the entire rest of the week put together.

“Sophia…love.” She turned quickly at the voice calling her name and pasted a smile on her lips even though she cringed inwardly at the tone of Lucky’s voice.

The man was disgusting. But he was her boss. She needed to be polite. He would be the one to get her out of the mess she was in—financially. And even though she found him rather revolting, Veronica assured her he was on the up-and-up. He protected his women. No one would fuck with her on his territory. Literally. She wondered how he treated his men, since all the other nights the club was a male strip club.

“It’s your lucky day.” He laughed, his belly shaking when he did. He loved using the word “lucky” as though the pun were a frequent stretch of the imagination. Lucky. It wasn’t a difficult word to associate repeatedly with the antics of a strip club. “Your first private is in room eight. You ready?”

Sophia froze. Private? She hadn’t expected to perform like that yet. This was her first night. Her first hour. She glanced around Lucky’s huge frame. Where was the man from the bar? My mate.

The guy would shit a brick if he found out she’d dodged him and headed straight to a private room after she came off the stage.

“Hurry, missy. He isn’t going to wait all night. And time is money. Chop chop.” Lucky stared her down. He even clapped his hands to emphasize his words.

Sophia nearly jumped out of her skin. She could do this. It paid even better if she did privates. If she could do two or three a night, she’d be in good shape, combined with the salary for dancing on stage.

Wherever the mystery mate of hers went off to, he’d have to wait. And he’d have to suck it up—whatever issues he had with her new profession.

Head held high, Sophia climbed the back stairs, glancing every direction along the way. If the mysterious stranger with the wide impressive shoulders that tapered down to a tight firm waist saw her…

She made it. Her mate was nowhere to be seen. With a deep breath, Sophia opened the door and stepped into the room. The second she was inside, the door snapped shut behind her and she gasped—partly from the shock of the quick movement and partly from the scent that filled her nose and made her knees weak.

“Sophia…” Her mate had her in his arms and then pressed her into the door. His hands landed on both sides of her head; his body trapped hers against the wood. He only uttered the one word, but it sounded like honey rolling off his tongue. How did he know her name?

All thoughts escaped her when his lips landed on hers as he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss that made her knees buckle. She gripped his biceps with both hands to steady herself, but she needn’t have. He wedged one knee between her legs and blanketed her entire frame against the door with his body.

His kiss was firm. Demanding. Insistent. She opened to him the instant his tongue swiped the slit between her lips. A moan filled the room. God, it was her own.

Her nipples rubbed against his chest and pebbled to tight points that chafed where they brushed the metallic material of her bikini.

He tasted like heaven. His tongue dueled with hers until she couldn’t think. Her world narrowed entirely to this one sensation—his mouth. And then it expanded. His knee hitched upward, lifting her until only her toes grazed the floor. The action forced her pussy against his hard muscular thigh.

Oh God. I’m going to come.

She had no control over her body’s reaction to this man. This mate of hers who knew her name while she knew nothing about him.

Sophia grabbed onto one functioning brain cell and tugged her head to one side to break contact with his mouth. She gasped for air, unable to inhale enough oxygen to fill her lungs and find even more of her brain.

He didn’t stop. He nibbled a path toward her ear, licking and sucking her skin as he went. “Baby, you are so fucking hot. I need you so bad. You were killing me up there on the stage.”

She had to give him kudos for his earlier restraint. She might not know his name, but she wasn’t altogether unfamiliar with how a mate reacted. Many different scenarios could have played out in the bar. And she’d seen all of them warring on his face. Instead, he’d chosen the high road. He’d waited, patiently—well, semi-patiently—for her to finish. He’d not growled too loud. And he’d not punched the man to his side who cat-called to her during the set.

It was enough. Oh, wait. He’d also arranged this private room … to meet with her away from humans.

Finally, he leaned back. He didn’t release the pressure pinning her to the door, nor the grinding contact he had on her pussy, but he did put a few inches between their faces.

“I’m Miguel, by the way. Sorry. I should have introduced myself first. You make me lose my senses.” He smiled contritely, a dimple popping out on both cheeks she wanted to run her tongue over.

She held her breath. Miguel. Fucking sexy romantic name. Suited him perfectly.

“Is your name really Sophia? Lucky told me.” He raised an eyebrow and a lock of his thick dark hair fell over his eye.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I couldn’t think of anything more creative.”

He smiled broadly. “It’s beautiful. I’m glad.” His gaze left her face and wandered to her chest.

With his torso, he held her steady against the door, but he moved his hands from the box he’d created around her head toward her shoulders and then danced his fingers across the bare skin of her chest until he reached the edges of the triangles barely containing her breasts.

Her breath hitched, and she arched into him, silently begging him to reach lower.

He didn’t disappoint her. One hand reached around her neck and tugged the flimsy tie that was the only thing holding up the top containing her breasts. A chill went down her spine when the material fell away. She stared down at the tight points of her nipples, mesmerized by his effect on her. She couldn’t help squirming against his thigh. Her clit ached to be rubbed. Her pussy leaked until the bikini bottom was saturated with her need.

He chuckled, a low rumble from his belly, as he blew a stream of air across first one distended nipple and then the other. “Hold still,” he commanded. “I’m getting there. Be patient.”

Be patient? Who was he kidding? Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Never in her life had she begged a man to take her. And here she was up against a door letting this…this hunk of a man…essentially fuck her as fast as possible. Heat suffused her chest next, leaving a trail of red splotches across her breasts.

She needed him in a way she’d never imagined possible. She needed him inside her. Covering her. Filling her.

“So sexy.” He grazed a finger across one nipple.

She whimpered and bit her lip to keep from begging out loud.

Miguel lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. He flicked the tip with his tongue, and she lost all coherent thought. Her eyes fluttered shut as her head fell back against the door.

“So responsive,” he murmured. “I can feel the heat of your pussy through my jeans. I can’t wait to taste you.”

With no warning, he grabbed her under the arms, lifted her into the air, and spun around to set her on a plush chair—the only furniture in the small room. It was meant for him. She was supposed to be giving the client a lap dance. Not the other way around.

Without pausing, Miguel grasped both sides of her bikini bottom and yanked the material down her legs. “Spread for me, Soph. Let me see you. All of you.”

She moaned. Her head rolled back against the chair. She couldn’t keep from obeying him. His command was just the right balance of dominance and sensitivity. She let her legs fall open.

“More, baby.” The firm demand made her pussy leak even more.

She complied. Marginally. He had no way of knowing how hard this was for her.

He sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly. “That’s so fucking hot. Your bare shaved pussy.” He reached for her as though she were a treasure; his hand trembled before he laid it on her thigh instead. He placed his other hand on the opposite leg and forced her open farther to his gaze.

She watched, mesmerized by his reaction to her newly shaved mons. She’d never shaved before tonight. Veronica had suggested it to avoid any embarrassing hairs from poking out around her bikini line.

When Miguel blew across her clit, she startled. She gripped the arms of the chair and gasped for breath.

“So fucking wet and hot for me. Are you always this … responsive?” He glanced up and met her gaze.

Sophia bit her lip again. She couldn’t tell him about her inexperience with men. Or she didn’t want to. She wanted him to fuck her now. Hard. Fast. The last thing she wanted was for him to stall over misplaced concern for her virginity.

Thank God, he didn’t seem to need a response. Instead he leaned down and took her clit into his mouth. Sucking slow and hard, flicking his tongue over the nub until she thought she would burst with the pleasure. So close. She stiffened. Her entire body rigid beneath his tongue. When he released her clit and nibbled lower, she groaned. “Don’t…”

She left the word “stop” unspoken. He wasn’t paying attention anyway.

His tongue delved between her lower lips and poked into her pussy.

She tried to arch into his face, increase the pressure, but he held her thighs firmly, grasping her so tightly, she couldn’t move an inch.

“Come for me, Soph. Come against my mouth. I want to taste you this first time.”

Sophia nearly fainted. The panting coming from her mouth couldn’t possibly belong to her. And yet, who else could it be? The second his tongue plunged back into her, she shot off, pulsing around him, gripping his tongue within her channel.

Miguel sucked and licked her through the orgasm until she stopped squeezing.

When he leaned back, he smiled. “So sweet,” he soothed. “So tight.” He rubbed her limp thighs with his palms and then stood and whipped his shirt over his head. Sophia held her breath while he kicked off his shoes, popped the button on his jeans, and then lowered the zipper to reveal his huge cock as it sprung from the confines of his pants.

Holy mother of God. Granted, this was the first time she’d been up close and personal with someone’s dick, but surely they weren’t all that large. There was no way he would fit inside her.

He chuckled as he lowered the denim and stepped out. “It’ll fit. Stop shaking your head.”

She yanked her gaze to his face and flushed at being caught ogling his parts. She gripped the arms of the chair once again.

Miguel leaned over her, bent at the waist, and kissed her long and deep. She could taste herself on his mouth. Sweet and salty. It flamed her arousal even more. She just came—the first orgasm of her life at the hands of a man—and she wanted more. Needed him inside her like her next breath.

“Miguel,” she murmured, trying his name out for the first time.

“I’m getting there,” he whispered against her mouth. “Come here.” He straightened and pulled her to stand. Without saying another word, he tugged her around the back of the chair and walked behind her. He stroked his hands up the sides of her body, grazing the sides of her breasts and making her shiver.

“Lean over, baby.” He pressed at the center of her back, and she realized his intentions. He wanted her to bend over the back of the chair. Her eyes went wide, and she hesitated.

“Yes…” he whispered in her ear, “…I’m going to take you from behind this first time. Claim you like wolves do. Make you mine.” His breath sent a new chill down her neck, and her nipples pebbled at his words.

When the pressure on her lower back firmed, she complied and leaned over the upholstered chair until her toes barely reached the ground. She gripped the arms to hold her torso up.

Miguel nudged her legs apart and ran a hand down her ass until he reached her drenched pussy. “Still wet for me,” he mumbled. “Very wet. Your body craves mine, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t answer.

He plunged a finger inside and twisted the digit until he’d circled the walls of her pussy. “God, Soph. You’re going to kill me. I can’t wait.” He panted. “I promise slower later. Right now, I need you so bad, my cock hurts.”

Before he even finished the strained words, he plunged his dick into her to the hilt. And then he groaned. He leaned over and blanketed her entire body with his own and held very still. His breaths came so fast she thought he’d hyperventilate.

Sophia couldn’t believe how full she was. The pain that had lanced through her had been sharp, but brief. She bit her lip hard until she could taste the metallic flavor of her own blood, not wanting to whimper and reveal her pain.

“Why didn’t you tell me, baby?” His words whispered over her skin like a balm. He nibbled across her back. He held himself deep inside her.

How had he known?

“I would have … well, I don’t know what I would have done, but I certainly wouldn’t have taken you so rough and quick if you’d told me you were a virgin.” He reached lower, grasped her thighs, and pulled them wider, lifting her feet off the ground.

She found her voice. “I didn’t want slow.”

Miguel continued to trace paths across her thighs and back with his fingers.

“Move,” she demanded.

“Are you okay?”

“No. I need you to move.” She bucked against him.

Finally, he complied, pulling out of her and then slamming back in. He paused only a moment and then repeated the action again and again, gripping her thighs with his hands. He slammed his cock in and out of her wanting pussy until her vision blurred with the pleasure. His balls slapped against her with each pass and another orgasm built inside her, dragging her into a place of pleasure she’d never dreamed of.

“Come with me, Soph,” he commanded.

God, how she loved the way he controlled her body with his words. Her clit pulsed, and her second orgasm crashed around her. She gripped his cock and milked it so hard, she could actually feel when he shot off inside her, coming right on the heels of her orgasm.

“Oh, baby,” he crooned as they came back to earth. He waited several minutes, his still-firm dick inside her, his chest lying against her back as he caught his breath.

Finally, he pulled out. She was sore and whimpered at his retreat. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into his embrace. When he’d circled the chair, he collapsed into the seat, cradling her against his chest. He kissed her forehead. “You’re mine.”


“And you can’t strip anymore, baby. I can’t stand it. I want to be the only one who gets to see all that flesh. I don’t share well.”

She sucked in a breath. She’d known this moment would come. But still she was unprepared. “I have to.” She lowered her gaze.

“Why? Of course you don’t. I have plenty of money. What could possibly make someone as innocent as you … were … feel as if she needed to work at a place like this?”

“My roommate ditched me last week. She met some guy and moved out. I couldn’t pay the rent on the meager salary I earn as a waitress. And,” she lowered her voice, “I didn’t want to tell my parents I’d failed in New York. They weren’t very supportive of my move here. I couldn’t stand to hear ‘I told you so.’ So, I took this job. I need it.”

“Sophia. You don’t. You don’t need the apartment or the job.” He shook his head, his gaze burrowing into her.

Then reality dawned. Of course. She smiled up at him.

“We’ll break your lease tomorrow first thing and move your stuff into my place. You can do whatever you want. But not strip.” He sobered. “Never.”

“How did I get so lucky?” she asked. “Of all the nights, of all the places you could have gone…”

“Fate.” He hugged her tight. “Now, let’s get out of here. I need to shift and run with you. And,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “I have about a dozen ideas about how I want to fuck that sweet, tight pussy of yours before sunrise.”

She wanted to gasp. She wanted to be appalled. But all she could do was grin and nod. Nothing sounded better. Life was good. And improving by the minute.

4 thoughts on “Lucky’s: Miguel by Becca Jameson

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