Girl’s Night Out

As a busy wife, mother, and writer there is nothing I like to hear more than three little words…Girl’s Night Out! Well, in this case, I’m actually getting a weekend out. Saturday I will be hitting Montgomery, AL with two of my gal pals for dinner and drinks. Sounds fun, right? Don’t be jealous. I deserve it. ; )

I bet you’re probably wondering what this has to do with my writing career. Let me fill you in. For the past couple weeks, I hit a standstill. I finished up book 2 of my Out of Bounds series (as Christy Gissendaner) and then had trouble figuring out what to work on next. I fiddled with book 5 of The Princes, but I haven’t gotten down and dirty with it quite yet. I’m hoping I’ll have a chance to bounce ideas off my pals this weekend. One of them is my beta reader, so she’ll be a good one to have around.

But not everything will be about work. I’m hoping to just relax and have a good time. Between my promotion at the day job, the hubby’s fledgling new business, t-ball for the boys, and just life in general, I’ve been strung out everywhere it seems. Even so, I’m anxious to get back to writing. I’ve got goals and I can’t very well reach them if I can’t decide what to write next. So stay tuned for what I decide!

In the meantime, I turn the attention to you. What makes a perfect girl’s night out? (Other than the fantabulous strippers of Lucky’s Charms, of course!)

A Mess O’ Smexy

I’m going to interrupt my regularly scheduled blog post with this mess o’ smexy announcement.


Do I sound excited enough?

That’s right. Over the last few weeks I’ve gotten a crash course in what it takes to self publish. Mind you, I’ve had a shitload of help. And not only from my Love, Lust and Laptops partners-in-smexy. I gotta give a big shout out, from all of us, to my friend, Dude (his name is actually JT! He’s worked his ass off  – is still working his ass off (hold on ePubbers! It’s almost ready!) – to get everything perfect. While I’ve learned a bunch about formatting the last two weeks, Dude is responsible for every file available for download. I’m a lucky girl to have truly amazing friends. 🙂

It’s hard to believe that ninety days ago, the idea for Lucky’s Charms hadn’t even come about. What started as ten women emailing, being silly and joking around ended up resulting in one of the greatest collaboration efforts I’ve been a part of.

On Monday, April 8th, you can read all about it as I share my experience with Delilah Devlin on her blog.

As I tell Delilah, this anthology is proof positive that collaboration, even when unintended, can be magical.

And shhhhh, don’t tell them I told you this, but…because of all your requests…we’re already talking sequel! SHHHHH!!! In the meantime, I’ve got to get back to Caleb. And, ooooh la la, I can’t wait to share him with all of you. 😉

Blurb for Lucky’s Charms 

A Love, Lust and Laptops Publication:

From the ladies of Love, Lust and Laptops comes a special anthology filled with sexy tales of the men and women of Lucky’s Bar and Strip Club.

Lucky's Charms Cover small

Anything could happen at Lucky’s Bar and Strip Club. Underneath the neon lights, the loud music, and the tear-away costumes, new lovers meet for the first time and old flames ignite anew. Shifters claim their mates, and leprechauns pay unusual gambling debts. Undercover operative solving crime? Advertising executive seducing the boss? All business as usual at Lucky O’Reilly’s.

Have you gotten lucky tonight?

Currently available for FREE at ARe.

Coming soon to Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

In case you missed it, here’s a little taste…

 Excerpt for Lucky’s Charms

 Welcome to Lucky’s

Padraig “Lucky” O’Reilly let out a contented sigh as he lifted the bottle of Irish whiskey and poured himself a generous slug. Life could be a lot worse. He shifted slightly on his stool and glanced at the old photo hanging on the wall behind the bar. Back in the day, he’d sported a fine head of red hair, rippling abs, and had a bevy of beautiful women willing to do his bidding.

So he might not be able to slip into his thong anymore, his dick was harder to find with his beer gut in the way, and what was left of his hair was mostly grey, but he was the master of all he surveyed.

Lucky’s was one of New York’s finest male strip joints.

He’d built it up from nothing to become one of the must-visit clubs in the U.S. for traveling dance troupes. Finding a woman and settling down had never been a priority in his life, although he would never regret fathering his firecracker daughters.

Lucky groaned softly and ran his fingers over Molly’s soft brown hair. She stood up and wiped the back of her hand across her lips. “You want me to do anything else for ya, Lucky?”

He drained his glass and placed it on the bar top. Molly stood, chewing her bottom lip, as he stowed his cock and zipped up. “No, that was good. You run along.”

She dropped a kiss on his cheek, and he watched her sashay across the empty room and disappear out the door. Maybe he’d make an honest woman of her one day.

The door she’d wandered through opened and a young man with a head covered in dark brown stubble stepped inside. “I’m looking for Lucky O’Reilly. Seamus said you might be hiring?”

Lucky grinned and got to his feet. Fresh blood. Molly could wait for her Mr. Right. Why would he want to settle for ground beef when there was a whole sexual smorgasbord on offer?

Besides, the Australians were kicking their tour off tomorrow, and St Patrick’s Day was only a week away. He had a feeling life was about to get far too hectic to worry about how much longer Molly would give him head without him making more of a commitment than unzipping his pants.

Lucky crossed the room and held out his hand. “So, you think you’ve got what it takes to be one of Lucky’s Charms?”

FREE download: ARe

Until next time…

Lucky’s: Tate by Monette Michaels

Monette Michaels

Tate entered the loft apartment he shared with his bride of two months and locked both deadbolts. He punched in the security code to rearm the system. Being part of an NYPD Special Crimes Unit undercover op targeting a serial rapist who preyed on women out clubbing might have also played into his increased safety concerns.

He moved through the loft in the early morning darkness, shedding clothes as he aimed for their bedroom. He silently chuckled. His actions weren’t too dissimilar from what he’d been doing at Lucky’s Bar and Strip Club only hours earlier. But there he’d stripped off rip-away clothing and had hundreds of screaming women thrusting money into his metallic blue g-string.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. His damn cock was up again. This undercover op would be the death of him—either that or he’d wear off the skin of his dick from all the jerking off. The g-string wasn’t large enough to contain his dick; he was always on the brink of costume malfunction.

“Tate?” Didi’s husky voice reached him from the entrance to their bedroom. “Baby, you okay?” She stepped into the main living area and her gaze immediately went to his erection. “Oh, honey, you need me.”

“Always.” He moved and took her into his arms. She cuddled against him and stroked a path over his budded nipples and then down the midline of his abs to the tip of his cock.

“This undercover job,” she placed a kiss on his chest, “um, what exactly are you doing that makes you so horny every morning you come home?”

Tate lifted her face to his and whispered against her lips. “It’s not dangerous…” well, some of those horny women had nails and were very grabby, “…it’s just sort of…”

“Makes you horny.” Didi licked his lower lip and then took it between her teeth. “And now I get the benefits.” She pushed away from him and then took his hand. “You gonna make love to me on the floor again? Or are we gonna try to make it to the bed this time?”

“Bed.” He rubbed her ass where she had bruises from the previous early morning lovemaking on the hardwood floors; hell, he hadn’t even taken her on the soft Flokati rug to cushion her.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed. He let her body slide down his and then removed her little scrap of a nightie. She never wore panties to bed and was always ready for his love-making. Even though they hadn’t caught their rapist, the op had given him several perks: a good workout dancing, an increased libido, which hadn’t been low to begin with, and lots of sex with his wife.

Didi ran a finger over the crease on his forehead. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.” She cupped his balls with one hand and fondled them gently. “So? What’s on the sexual menu for this morning? Kink? Raunchy, piston-driving sex? Doggy style? Blow jobs?”

His dick jerked and he knew his balls had tightened because Didi purred in the way he loved so much and stroked her finger along the seam of his ball sac. “So, my big strong cop wants a blow job. Yummy.”

He kissed her lips and then muttered against them, “Yeah … yummy.”

She let go of his balls, and he moaned at the loss of her warmth and gentle touch. She dropped to her knees on the thick, soft rug by their bed. Her face was at dick level. He glanced down and groaned. Her expression was a combination of hunger, love, and out-right lust.

God, how had he gotten so lucky to find this special woman? She met all his physical needs, understood his job, and was just fucking there whenever he needed her. He wasn’t sure he deserved her, but he’d damn well protect and care for her as the precious treasure she was.

Didi stroked her tongue from the root of his cock to the tip, then sat back on her heels. And stared at his dick—nothing else, just stared.

“Didi, don’t tease, darlin’. I’m hurting.” He took one step closer and then reached for her face and gently guided her closer to his throbbing dick. “Take me in, baby.”

His beautiful wife, her green eyes glittering like the emerald earrings he’d given her, licked her lush lips and then leaned forward to lick around his cockhead. A shot of precum coated the tip, and she cleaned it off with little licks, humming under her breath as if he were the tastiest thing she’d ever had.

But still she teased him.

Tate needed to take matters into his own hands or she would keep him on the knife-edge of arousal. He held her head still with one hand and took his cock in the other and nudged the tip against her lips. “Open and suck me. Now. Get me off,” he growled the next words, “and I’ll return the favor―several times―before you have to get ready for work.”

Didi smiled and opened her mouth. He slid the head of his cock inside and with small thrusts gave her more and more of him. The sounds she made in the back of her throat had him spurting even more precum. She began to stroke his cock with her tongue as he withdrew. He moaned, and soon the rhythm of sensations and sounds tipped him over the edge.

“God, I’m coming, baby. In or out?” he asked on a groan.

Didi answered the abbreviated question by grabbing his hips and holding him to her mouth. The bold action had him shouting to the ceiling as he came forcefully into the back of her throat. His hand around the base of his cock kept him from going too deeply and choking her. Sucking him off, swallowing, were okay with his lovely and talented wife, but deep-throating was something she was working on. He would never force her to do it until she was comfortable.

As he softened to a semi-erect state, Didi licked him like a momma cat cleaning up a kitten. She even made noises like a happy cat. He smiled and stroked her hair as she tended to his cock which would soon recover to take her sweet pussy. But first, he had several orgasms to give her.

He gently tugged her hair and pulled her face away from his cock. He helped her to her feet and then picked her up and laid her gently on the bed. “Open your legs for me, baby. I have a pre-breakfast appetizer to eat.”

His wife’s lips curved into a siren-like smile. She cupped her breasts and played with her sweet little buds.

“Uh-unh, my lovely temptress, I’ll take care of those later.” He crawled onto the bed and nudged her legs open. “Show me your pussy. Show me how wet you already are for me.”

She trailed a hand down to her glistening lips. After one circle around her clit, already peeking out from her dusky pink folds, she inserted one, then two fingers into her opening and pulled them out. She held them up. Smiling, he leaned over and took both fingers into his mouth and cleaned them off with his tongue just as she’d sucked his cock only minutes ago.

“Tasty. Sweet. Just like you.” He took her hand and placed it above her head and then did the same with her other. “Hold on to the bedframe. Or do you need me to restrain you?”

She closed her eyes and moaned. When she opened them, she looked straight at him and whispered, “Restrain me … please.” A slight smile quirked the edges of her rosy red mouth, swollen from sucking his cock. Her lips still glistened from his cum.

“My pleasure.” He leaned over and kissed her, licking the taste of himself from her mouth. Then he pulled the fur-lined leather cuffs that were always attached to the bed frame and locked first one wrist, then the other, into the restraints. He checked them for tightness and then loosened one so as not to cut off her circulation. After making sure she was secured, he kissed the palm of each hand. “Love you, kitten.”

“God, Tate. Hurry. I need you.” She arched off the bed and moaned. “I ache. I’ve been thinking about you taking me since the last time.” Which had been yesterday morning.

His little wife, the oh-so-proper interior designer to the wealthy of NYC, got off on his dominant attitude in bed. He liked being in charge in the bedroom, but in the long run, it was all about mutual pleasure. The little bit of D/s just added to their love-making.

“Patience. I’ve got a few orgasms to give you first. Remember? I promised.” She mewled and pouted, but it was all a part of their game.

Before he could ram his even-now hardening cock into her, he needed to get her highly aroused, more so than she was already. Once he was in her tight channel, it would be all over; he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He was that crazy about her. And pile-driving thrusts alone weren’t the way to get Didi off—that took his dominant attitude and several warm up orgasms for her.

He knee-walked between her legs and leaned over, bracing himself on one forearm as he took her lips in a tongue-thrusting kiss. He ground the heel of his other hand over her pussy, massaging the wet lips and hard little clit in rhythmic circles. As his tongue entered her mouth, he applied pressure to her labia and clit. When he withdrew his tongue, he eased off the pressure on her sex. It didn’t take long for his hot little wife to gasp her way through a small orgasm. She thrust her hips to meet his hand in a demand for more pressure. When she didn’t get it, she whimpered through the light orgasm he’d given her.

Afterward, she sank back onto the bed.

He released her mouth. “Don’t get greedy, kitten. That was just a warm up.”

Sort of like the teasing dances he did in the audience after his stage performance were a warm up for the hot sex he knew he’d get at home. Yeah, dancing at Lucky’s made him horny, but only one woman was allowed to relieve that ache. And she was lying under him.

“Tate…” She breathed his name in the husky tone she always got after an orgasm, but he wanted her moans, groans, gasps, and the guttural sounds she only made for him.

With a stroke of his finger over her mouth, she grew silent. Now only her expressive eyes pled with him.

He kissed his way down her body. He cupped first one breast and teethed and suckled the tasty little bud. As he did so, he thrust two fingers into her sheath and began to loosen her up for later when he took her fully. After making the one nipple red and tightly puckered, he switched to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. Then he licked his way to her belly button, which he nuzzled and nipped.

Didi moaned and arched her back, moving into the thrusts of his now three fingers. When he pressed his thumb onto her clit, she shrieked and came again. “God … Tate … please … more … harder.”

Still too coherent. He wanted her mindless with pleasure. He backed off his thumb and pulled his fingers from her. Her whine of disappointment had him chuckling. Several women at the club whined just that way, but not as cutely, when he’d danced out of their reach. Greedy little creatures, women were, when it came to pleasure, but then he was much the same way, so he couldn’t really blame them.

“I’m going to eat you up, kitten.” Didi sighed and smiled. He brushed his cheek against one supple thigh and she moaned. “I’m going to make you come. All I want to hear from you are screams and noise. No words. If I hear words, I’ll have to start all over again—and you’ll be very late to work. Understand?”

Didi looked at him and nodded, already playing their no-word game.

Tate smiled and petted her hip, and then got down to work, work he enjoyed almost as much as fucking her. He nuzzled her mound and took a quick lick of her puffy labia. Her taste and scent hit all the libido centers of his brain.

Hunger and the need to drive her to a screaming orgasm took over. His cock, even harder than it had been earlier, drove him to take her up quick and hard then make it last until she could only make breathless screams. He licked her clit and then suckled it, then licked and teethed it. By now, his little love glistened with sweat as she strained for completion.

Then he stopped, pulled back, and spanked her clit a few times, adding a slight pain to the pleasure. Didi arched into the slaps. As the sounds from her grew higher in tone, he leaned down and licked the clit, now totally exposed from its protective hood, with strong strokes.

Didi screamed and pulled at her bindings. Tate struggled to hold her down as he took her clit into his mouth and pulled on it with strong suckling motions. When she was gasping and grunting, he reared up and plunged his aching cock into her and shot her over the top once more.

Now she was all animal. Sweating, straining, grunting―wrenching every bit of pleasure for herself as she met his deep, brutal thrusts.

Then, all too soon, he was there. He held her hips to him, threw back his head, and roared his pleasure; his hips pummeled her and she milked his cock with her inner muscles for all she was worth.

God, he loved this woman.

Spent, he collapsed onto her and panted against her neck. She rubbed her cheek over his hair and whispered in a voice so raspy it was almost a croak, “I love you, Tate.”


Didi entered the open-concept living area. The smells of bacon, eggs, and pancakes held court. Her Tate was not only the dominant lover of her dreams, but also a fantastic cook.

“Hey, kitten.” Tate smiled at her from the other side of the kitchen island. “You okay? I was a little rough this morning.”

She smiled and then frowned. He looked so tired; this assignment was rough on him, then he came home and made love to her.

“I’m fine. But you need more sleep.” Didi walked around the island and hugged him around the waist, laying her head on his bare chest. She inhaled his musky scent and something else she couldn’t quite place. She turned her face into his skin and sniffed―skin oil of some type.

She leaned back and looked him in the eye. “What exactly is this undercover job? And why would you wear some kind of body oil?”

Tate grimaced, and she knew he would give her the “I can’t talk about an ongoing op” speech. She wasn’t having it.

“Just give me broad parameters. I don’t need to know details.” She really hoped he wasn’t soliciting prostitutes, but she knew some of the Special Crimes Unit cases involved sex trafficking.

“Baby, go sit, and let’s eat. I’ll tell you what I can.”

Once he sat next to her, and they’d both taken several bites of food, she turned toward him and said, “Talk.”

“We’re after a serial rapist who’s been preying on women at nightclubs.” He scowled and Didi could tell he was tired and frustrated.

“Does he attack them outside the clubs?” she asked. Not that she went to many clubs without Tate by her side, but she wanted to warn her co-workers who did. “Which neighborhoods are you talking about?”

Tate turned and cupped her face, massaging her cheek with his thumb. “This has happened over a wide area. Nowhere your friends would normally go.” Her man knew her well. “We’re sure he slips something into their drinks and then either takes them out of the club in the guise of being a helpful friend or nabs them if they go to the restroom and then takes them out the back.”

“Where are they found? Does he do more than…” she gulped, “…rape them?”

Her husband leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “He rapes them away from the clubs, then he drops them off in a public place where they’ll be found. The guy’s smart enough to know about security cameras, so we’ve only caught glimpses of him as he dumps them. The women remember nothing.”

“Jesus, that’s almost as bad as remembering.” She shook her head and moved her pancakes around on the plate. Suddenly she wasn’t hungry anymore. “How did you figure out where they were taken from?”

“Lots of talking to lots of the victims’ friends. Back-tracking from where their memories left off. Club security cameras. The club I’m undercover in now…” He took a bite of his eggs and chewed. Several seconds of silence ensued; he was deciding about how much to tell her. “We’ve spent the week clearing the employees. Odds are the guy will hit this weekend, but I can’t tell you how or why we suspect that.”

She touched his arm. “Tate, you don’t have to tell me more. The department has kept this quiet so as not to scare him off, yes?” Tate nodded. “I’ll warn my friends. They’re all city girls like me, and we know the precautions to take.”

“Baby, these women thought the same thing, and he still got to them.” He pulled her toward him and kissed her deeply, then whispered over her lips, “I have to get this guy. It could’ve been you or anyone we know. He’s not getting away on my watch.”

She kissed him back and massaged the tense muscles at the base of his neck. “You’ll get him. I know you will. Now, you need to eat and go to bed, so you’ll be rested and alert to do whatever in the hell it is you’ve been doing to find him.” She kissed his chin and then nipped it with her teeth. “But afterward?”

He raised a brow. “Yes?”

“You’ll fess up about the body oil.” She frowned to show she was serious.

Tate laughed. “It’s totally innocent, kitten. You’re the only woman I let touch my body.”

Didi observed him closely. She knew his tells when he was hedging the truth for her sake, and he wasn’t lying to her, but he wasn’t being totally honest either. Yeah, Tate Harrison was definitely going to be explaining himself one way or the other. She might be submissive in the bedroom, but she was no pushover out of it.

“What are your plans for the day?” Tate smiled. “After you wow the new client and get the account, that is.”

He’d turned back to his food, so she couldn’t tell if he was making small talk or if he was worried about her being out alone.

“We’re taking Stefan out for his birthday. We hired a limo, and the driver will take us to Butter,” her partner Stefan’s favorite place to eat, “and then he’ll take us all home, to our doors.”

At her words, Didi could see the relief settle over Tate. He’d been worried.

“Good.” Tate turned and smiled. “Tell Stefan happy birthday from me.”


Tate had on his tear-away black leather pants under which he wore a silver-studded black g-string. Over his bare chest, he wore a criss-crossed leather harness. He wore several clip-on silver rings in his ears.

The other undercover cops working the op were Alicia, who worked as a waitress, and Javier, who worked security.

Mikal, Lucky’s head of security, looked him over. “Has the old bastard tried to convince you to work for him on a regular basis yet?”

Tate laughed, and Alicia and Javier snickered. “Several times. I almost had to take off his arm at his shoulder when he wanted to check to see if my g-string was stuffed or if it was all me.”

Mikal snorted. “Yeah, that’s the old letch. He swings both ways in case you hadn’t caught on yet.”

“He sure as hell does,” Alicia said. “He patted my ass.”

Javier chuckled. “The second time he did it, she put him on the floor in a headlock.”

“He stopped patting my ass after that.” Alicia grinned, and the security guy roared with laughter.

“So, now that you’ve cleared the staff, I gave them a short update. All the employees will be on the lookout for anyone doctoring drinks or trying to walk out with someone they didn’t come in with.” The security man shrugged. “Pickups don’t happen often here between men and women so that should be easy to spot. More gay pickups than anything else.”

“Just remember the guy taking these women is smooth. He could come in with a group of gay men and then slip away with a woman.” Tate was sure that was how it happened. Straight women would never think a gay man would slip them a drug and then rape them.

“I’ll be monitoring the cameras myself along with one of your men.” Mikal scowled. “We’ll get the bastard tonight. Lucky’s having conniptions that this predator has been using his club as a hunting ground for the past three and a half weeks.”

“If we don’t get him tonight, he’ll move on to another club after tomorrow.” The pattern had been a club a month. One woman a week, usually on a Friday or Saturday. They’d only caught on to the pattern recently. They’d then set up the op, vetted Lucky’s staff, and now were ready for prime time. The last few nights had been practice at the team blending in and announcing Tate as a new dancer.

“Hey, Tate. We’re up for the opening number.” Seamus, one of the dancers in the opener, called to him. “Shake a leg, handsome.”

Alicia patted Tate on the butt. “Break a leg. Javier and I will go and mingle.”

Tate nodded, took a deep breath, and joined Seamus at stage left. The beginning notes of “It’s Raining Men” boomed around the crowded club. It was showtime.

As he followed Seamus onto the stage and then turned to face the audience, he caught sight of a group of women and men entering the club and sitting in a VIP booth.

Dammit! Of all the places to take Stefan after his birthday dinner, why had they picked this club?

He waited until he had his back to the audience and then sub-vocally spoke into the mike taped under his leather chest harness. “Javier. Alicia. My wife is here with a group of friends. Keep an eye on them, would you?”

“Jesus, Maria, y José,” Javier swore.

“Got it, Tate.” That was Alicia. “Just shake that cute tush.”

When Tate turned around, he spotted Alicia approaching Didi’s table as if to take an order. He caught a glimpse of his wife’s face. She looked straight at him, threw up her hands, and mouthed “not my choice.” Then she gave him a thumb’s up.

This was his worst nightmare.

Seamus elbowed him when he turned the wrong way. “What the fuck, Tate? You did better than this on your first night.”

Tate turned and followed Seamus toward stage right as the beginning number ended. “My wife’s out there with some friends celebrating a co-worker’s birthday. I’m worried.”

Seamus slapped him on the back. “She’ll be okay. Mikal will keep an eye on them.”

Tate sure as hell hoped so. He hurried toward the shared dressing room to pull on a different outfit for his solo dance and to be rewired.

God, it was gonna be a long night. At least now, Didi knew why he’d worn body oil. His dick hardened at the thought of lap dancing for her as she was tied to a chair and couldn’t touch him, but he could touch her all he wanted. He’d make sure he took a costume home―for later.

Mind back on business, Harrison.


Stefan leaned over and half-whispered, half-shouted to Didi. “Dearest, you never told me Tate could dance. And darling girl, you are so lucky … unless he padded that g-string.”

Didi laughed. “No, that was all him. And Stefan, we need to keep quiet about Tate. We don’t know who the rapist is. He could be anybody.” She looked left at the VIP booth closest to the stage. All women. But the one on her right was filled with gay males. Or so they seemed. One guy kept looking at the crowd more so than the hunky man doing a very athletic dance to the song “Holding Out for a Hero.”

“Stefan,” Didi leaned into him, “check out the gay guys in the next booth. Any of them seem not quite right to you?”

“Helping hubby, are we?”

She nodded. He smiled and stared at the men in the other booth. Several ogled him back, but not the second guy from the end.

Stefan did a finger wave at the men admiring him and then turned to her. “Second guy from the far end. He isn’t into his companion, and he isn’t into the glorious bit of manhood on the stage. Tate is so going to have to introduce me to that dancer, because he’s as gay as I am. The guy I pointed out, not so much. He’s hunting, dear one, and not for my kind.”

“I thought so.” She looked to see if she could spot Alicia; the female detective had an eye on their table and came when Didi waved.

“What’s up?” Alicia asked.

“Stefan and I think the guy,” she turned to point him out and gasped, “he’s gone. Stefan, where is he?”

“I’m watching him.” Stefan pulled Alicia close and pointed. “He’s approaching that table of women who are so into the gay hunk on stage they’re not being careful. See?”

Alicia looked where he pointed. “The dark-haired guy in the gray pinstripe suit?”

“That’s the one,” Didi confirmed. “Shit, did you see that? He slipped something into the drink of the blonde woman in the red dress.”

“Got him. Thanks.” Alicia walked toward the man who now headed back toward his booth, probably to wait for the drug to take effect before he made his move. Jerk.

Didi relaxed into her seat. Tate’s fellow cops would handle the situation. She patted Stefan’s hand. “Good eyes.”

“Thanks.” Then Stefan gasped. “Shit, he has your cop friend by the throat.”

Didi stood and yelled at the top of her voice just as the song ended. “Tate. Get out here. Now.” Then she pulled her pepper spray from her purse and bolted from the booth before any of her friends could stop her.


Tate waited for his cue to go on stage when he heard over his headset that his wife and Stefan had spotted someone doctoring a drink. Alicia signaled she would intercept the guy. Lucky’s security people would help the woman whose drink was doctored. The op could be over. He really didn’t have to dance, but he wanted to. He wanted Didi as horny as he was and then they would go home and play out his fantasy.

Then he heard his wife yelling. “Tate. Get out here. Now.”

He ran onto the stage and glanced at the booth where his wife should’ve been.

Stefan stood and shouted, “She’s going after them. Out the side door.”

“Didi!” Tate roared as he ran toward the door indicated by Stefan. It let out into the side alley. He spoke into his mike, “Where are they?”

Over the headset, Mikal rasped out, “They’re heading toward the back of the building. There’s a car parked in the alley near the rear door. I’m heading that way.”

Javier’s voice came over the headset. “I’m at the car.”

Tate growled. “He’s mine.”

As Tate rounded a line of garbage containers, he spotted them. The rapist had a knife to Alicia’s throat. Blood dripped onto her mostly bared shoulders, but no spurting. He breathed a sigh of relief. Didi stood maybe five feet away from the two. She was talking to the man, trying to calm him.

Tate moved along the wall, slowly so as not to call attention to himself. Suddenly, Didi took two steps forward and raised her arm. She sprayed the man with the pepper spray Tate made her carry.

The man screamed, dropped the knife, and scrubbed at his eyes. Alicia, even though hit with some of the spray, still took the man to the ground. Didi kicked the knife away.

As Tate ran forward, his wife still had her arm up and finger on the spray can. He ran first to the man and knocked him unconscious. Then Javier was there, and he cuffed the man. Mikal had Alicia under his care, so Tate was free to turn to his wife.

“Kitten, you okay?” He approached cautiously and removed the pepper spray from her clenched fingers.

She shook her head, then nodded, then sobbed and dove into his arms.

“Kitten, you’re fine. You did good.” But he was still gonna spank her sweet ass for running after an armed rapist. “It’s all over.”

She nodded and mumbled against his bare chest.

”What’s that, baby?” He tipped her chin up so he could see her tear-streaked face.

“I said I’m so mad because I wanted to watch you dance and strip. That asshole ruined the whole evening.” She shot the cuffed rapist a nasty look.

Tate chuckled. “Baby, have I got plans for later.”

Lucky’s: Lilly By Cherie Nicholls


By Cherie Nicholls

“Someone is on the prowl tonight.” Lilly looked up as Sandy, one of the wait staff, came to the bar to have an order filled.

“What?” Lilly had been too busy to even think, let alone check out the comings and goings in the place.

Not that she should complain, the more customers Lucky’s brought in, the more money she made. But damn, if it wasn’t hard work.

“Mikal, the ice mountain, ain’t too icy tonight. See that little redhead over there?” Sandy pointed to a table of partying ladies. “As soon as she walked in, he looked like he was about to bend her over the coat-check desk and take her right there in front of everyone. I haven’t seen him like that, well rarely ever.” Sandy gave her a knowing smile.

Lilly rolled her eyes. “Do I really have to tell you again that nothing has ever happened between us?”

“Me thinks she doth protest too much,” Sandy said with a wink before she walked back into the crowds.

“Damn English majors.”

Lilly turned her attention back to the table of ladies. She drew in a deep breath and promptly swore.

“Nice language for a lady,” one of the regulars joked.

“Sorry, Clive, got a bit of an issue.”

“Need some help?”

“No thanks. I’m good.” She gave him a bright smile, turned, and headed toward the far end of the bar.

When she was farther away from the main section, she raised her hand. The staff’s signal to get the attention of the security team.

One of the team started toward her, but Lilly stopped him with the shake of her head and pointed at Mikal, the head of security, and the reason for the new headache brewing behind her eyes.

When the security man was finally able to drag Mikal’s attention away from the table of ladies, he sent him over to her.

“What’s the problem?” Mikal asked, still looking toward the table.

Lilly gave a deep sigh. Why did she always have to do the god damn right thing? Why couldn’t she be the person who just sat back and watched the drama unfold?

“You are.”

“Okay, let me get one of the team to sort that for you.” He wasn’t listening and started to move away.

Lilly grabbed his arm. She didn’t give him a chance to do anything as she dragged him into the stock room and slammed the door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Lilly let him go and grabbed a bottle of water from the shelves. With a twist, she had the lid off. Holding the bottle flat in one hand, she slammed the other down on it hard. The contents rushed out and hit him in the face and chest.

“What the hell!” he roared.

“Are you back in the room now? ’Cause I can’t talk to you if you’re still in the middle of that fug.”

“What are you doing, you freaking mental case?” Mikal wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt.

The flash of tight abs made Lilly swallow hard. She dragged her gaze away from such perfection and focused on his face, his very angry face.

“I’m helping you before you do something really stupid and then blame me for it. ’Cause I just know this would end up being my fault.”

Mikal looked at her with narrowed eyes. “What?”

“The chick out there? The one you can’t take your eyes off of?.” Not that she was jealous, nope not Lilly. “She’s in heat. You, genius, got bathed in her scent when she came into the club. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Mikal’s hands went to his hips, and his chin dropped to his chest. “Dammit. I smelled her coming, but then I got caught at the door.”

“Well, my suggestion―go back to your office and stay there.” Lilly dropped the empty water bottle into the trash and headed for the door. She started to open it when a large hand pushed it shut.

She could feel the heat of him behind her, not touching but just there. It took more self-control than she cared to admit to keep from turning in to his body and wrapping her arms around Mikal.

“I thought you didn’t care.” He spoke the words softly.

“I don’t.”

“Then why do this for me? We both know if I’d spent five minutes with that woman, she’d have let me fuck her and I would’ve marked her.” He said the last through gritted teeth.

“Then you’d have woken up from your sex-induced hypnosis, and it would’ve been my fault for not stopping you. I didn’t warn you because I was worried about you. I did it because I knew you’d make my life hard, and I just won’t have that.” She pulled at the door handle.” Now move, I need to get back to work.”

For a second, she didn’t think he would move. When his hand finally dropped from the door, Lilly pulled it open and rushed back to the bar.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Mikal move across the room. He gave the problem table a wide berth and then headed behind the stage to where the offices were.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he disappeared from sight.

“Yeah, sure, there’s nothing going on with you two.”

Lilly looked over her shoulder as Sandy picked up another order and walked away.


The problem was Sandy was both right and wrong.

She and Mikal had never had sex, never even kissed. But there was something there, and it had been driving Lilly mad for the last two years.

From the second she’d walked into Lucky’s, Mikal had taken offense at her presence. Lilly hadn’t taken it personally. After all, he’d marked the club and the area six blocks in either direction as his territory. And there she’d come, just strolling into the place as if she owned it.

It was at times like that Lilly loved her tiger half. It gave her a natural cockiness, an extra edge.

Tiger shifters such as herself and Mikal were very protective of what they considered theirs. It had taken Lilly a while to assure him she had no desire to take anything from him. She roamed, that’s what she did. Never stayed anywhere for long and didn’t like the idea of borders or territory stopping her from moving where she liked.

Two years she’d been here, roughly eighteen months longer than she’d intended.

Lucky’s was a nice enough place to work. Lucky O’Reilly, a retired stripper, owned the successful strip joint. The acts mostly consisted of male strippers, but Lucky didn’t mind ladies performing if they were good enough.

Lucky also had good instincts. He’d taken one look at her and said, “If I slap your ass, you’re going to rip my arm off, ain’t ya?”

Lilly had assured him she’d do more than that if he put his paws on her. Lucky had given her a big smile and sent her over to the bar.

She shoved the memory aside and went back to work. She kept half an eye on the table with the little tiger shifter in heat.

The night was nearly over when the little shifter and two of her friends stumbled over to the bar.

“Three waters, please.” One of the shifter’s friends ordered.

“Coming right up.” Lilly grabbed the water bottles and dropped them onto the bartop.

“Hey, do you know where the scarred guy went? My friend was just wondering,” one of the women asked.

Scarred guy? Really?

“He had to leave.” Lilly spoke through gritted teeth.

“Aw, that’s a shame. Don’t worry, Brit, we’ll find you someone else.” Her friends headed off, but “Brit” stayed behind.

“I can still smell him,” Brit said.

“Can you?” Lilly wasn’t in the mood to play nice, definitely not with a little girl who went out while she was in heat. Any tiger could jump her, and the girl wouldn’t even care. Heat did silly things to shifter minds. Brit could’ve been marked and then she would’ve been screwed.

Lilly leaned over the counter, bringing herself closer to the woman. “Perhaps that’s because you can smell him on me.”

Brit’s mouth pulled as if she’d sucked on a lemon. “I didn’t scent he was mated.”

“I didn’t say he was.”

“Then why would his scent be on you?”

The corner of Lilly’s mouth tipped up in a half smile. “You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

It took Brit a second, then anger came with the realization. “Fucking don’t make it permanent.”

“This is true, but I can assure you that if you even look at what’s mine,” the smile slipped from Lilly’s face, “I’ll rip the still-beating heart from your chest.”

She sensed the internal conflict in Brit, one side wanting to take on another tiger, who’d clearly challenged her, and the other knowing she’d get her ass kicked if she did.

Finally, Brit made the smart choice and headed back to her friends.

“See? That’s the kinda shit that makes me say, there is for sure something going on between you and Mikal.”

“God damn, Sandy!”




Mikal paced his office. His tiger wanted out; it needed to prowl, but he couldn’t allow that―not here and not now.

He’d scented the chick in heat when she had been about three blocks away from the club. Why the hell hadn’t he moved away from the door at that time? What he’d told Lilly, about being stuck at the door until it was too late, had been a lie. He could’ve walked away at any time, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d waited for the woman in heat as if she was the answer to everything.

The roar he let out was long and loud and helped release a small amount of his tension. Mikal was grateful Lucky had taken one look at him five years ago and insisted on soundproofing the tiger’s office.

As simple as some people thought Lucky was, the man knew about things most normal full humans couldn’t even begin to understand. That’s why Lucky requested a full shifter security team which Mikal ran. His team had wolves, leopards, even hyenas. A perfect blend for security.

Mikal turned toward the bank of monitors that covered one wall. The club was slowing down for the night. Most people were leaving. He spotted the woman in heat heading toward the bar with two of her friends. He clicked a couple of buttons until the main monitor showed Lilly’s face and those of the group of ladies.

He didn’t need sound to know what they were saying. The mention of his scar had him rolling his eyes. The scar was long and deep and ran from eye to lip on his right side. A souvenir from the last tiger who’d tried to take his territory. Mikal didn’t mind the disfigurement. It helped with his role as hard-ass security man, and was strangely a magnet for female attention.

Two of the ladies walked away, but the shifter in heat stayed. He watched Lilly verbally slap her down and then groaned.

Damn, but Lilly was beautiful when she was aggressive. Mikal adjusted his trousers in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on his hard-on.

Tonight, she wore another of her trademark corsets, this time in lime green, that showed of her curves. He used to think she wore the sexy tops just to tease him. He soon realized Lilly didn’t work like that, which just made it all the more of a tease.

Mikal shook his head. The fog of the other woman’s heat must have lingered, but it wasn’t a stranger he saw in his mind when he thought about fucking someone. No, his head was full of images of Lilly. How she would look lying naked under him. He wouldn’t have to hold back as he did with full humans. Lilly would be able to take all of him, and there would be nothing held back, not from either of them.

He’d made a move on her awhile back, but she’d shut him down. Now, they’d moved from politeness to sniping. She hadn’t been wrong; he’d have made it her fault if he’d marked another woman. He made sure anything that went wrong was her fault, whether she was there or not.

He was such a bastard sometimes. But Lilly gave as good as she got. She knew how to push his buttons in ways no one ever had, and it pissed him off so much.

He looked back at the monitor. Lilly was talking to Sandy.

Mikal picked up his radio and called his team. “Bring me Lilly. And, boys, don’t take no for an answer.”

It didn’t take long for his door to open and four of his team carrying an angry Lilly between them to come in. They dropped on her feet by his desk. She ran a hand through her short hair, smoothing it back into place before turning anger-filled eyes on them all.

“I’m going to kill you all, and then I’m going to make coats out of your hides!” she growled at them.

“Don’t be mad. We were only following orders,” one of the team told her.

“Out.” Mikal didn’t give them time to say anything more. He wanted her to himself. He followed his men to the door and then made sure to shut and lock it.

“What the hell is this about? Why the hell did you send the goon squad after me, and when did you start locking me in rooms―with you?”

She was good and mad, which only made him calmer, more focused.

He pointed at the monitors. “About the same time you started threatening customers―over me.”

He watched as realization hit her.

“That didn’t mean anything, and you know it.”

“No? So claiming me―that was just casual conversation, then?”

“No! Yes! Stop it. You know I was just stopping you from making a mistake.”

He could tell she wanted to stamp her foot.

“Really? What if I wanted to mark her, make her mine forever?” He stepped closer to Lilly.

“I have the perfect hat for the ceremony.” She all but snarled the words at him.

“Okay. See you at the mating party.” He turned to head out the door, but hadn’t gone two steps when Lilly leaped onto his back.

“I hate you.” She declared before placing a soft kiss at the base of his neck.

Mikal reached behind, hooked her around the waist, and pulled her around until he could press her back against the door.

“Show me how much you really hate me.” His voice was more tiger than man, more of a growl than words.

The grin on Lilly’s face could only be described as predatory. Mikal sent a silent thank you to Lucky and his demands for a soundproofed office.

There was no finesse when they come together, each fighting for control. Lips meshed and tongues parried.

Mikal pressed her harder against the door, using his body to keep her up so he could run both his hands through her hair, capturing her head, giving him greater access to her mouth.

Mikal rained kisses along her jaw line to her neck. Lilly tipped her head as much as his hold permitted, showing him her neck. A move that was both sensual and submissive. She was letting him know she trusted him. Which meant more than Mikal ever thought it would.

His hand slipped down and under her butt, holding her high as he moved away from the door. In three easy strides he had them across the room.

He dropped Lilly to her feet and took a step away. “Last chance to change your mind, Lil. This won’t be sweet and soft. When I take you, it’ll me, all of me, both sides and I won’t hold back. If you don’t think you can handle that, you need to tell me now.”

A small part of him worried she’d turn and walk out of the room. But he should have known better. Lilly raised an eyebrow as she stepped closer, making sure her body was pressed up against his.

“If you don’t think you can handle me, pussy cat, you just say so. Otherwise shut up and get on with it.”

He knew the grin he gave her was full of fangs, but he didn’t care.

They didn’t say anything more. Mikal turned and swept all the papers off his desk, not caring where they landed.

Lilly didn’t wait for him to make a move; she slipped back onto the desk, giving him a knowing smile.

It was that look, of pure desire, that finally snapped the leash he‘d gotten on his beast. He shoved his jeans down to his thighs, releasing his hard on. The relief was short lived.

Mikal caught Lilly around the waist, pulled her to the edge of the desk.

Lilly laid back, leaving herself open to him. Mikal took a second to admire the beauty of her like that before reaching under her skirt and ripping her panties off. The little bit of lace came away easily in his hand. Her laughter filled the office.

“I warned you, this is not going to be sweet.”

“Are you really still talking?” she shot back.

Mikal raised an eyebrow at her before thrusting his hard length into her wet heat.

He didn’t know if he groaned or she did. It was the sound of bliss. She felt so good around him that Mikal didn’t know if he’d ever want to be anywhere else.

He’d never been more grateful for his shifter genes that made it impossible for him to catch any human diseases and ensure that a female could only get pregnant when she was in heat. He didn’t want a rubber stopping him from feeling all that was her.

“Move.” Her heels and the base of his spin spurred him on.

Mikal moved, thrusting into her over and over.

“Please.” She whimpered. Mikal took hold of her hands, pinning them to the desk next to her head.

“Please, what?”

“Don’t stop.”

Lilly’s eyes were closed so she didn’t see the silent snarl he gave. Mikal leant forward, bringing his mouth close to her ear.

“Mine.” He growled.

Lilly turned to nuzzle against the tender skin of his throat. “Prove it.” She purred.

Mikal needed no farther encouragement.

As he trust into her again, he felt her climax start to take hold. He didn’t stop moving even after she screamed out her release, once, twice, before he allowed his own.

He collapsed down onto her, both were breathing hard.

Lilly kissed his ear and whispered four little words that made him grin.

“I still hate you.”




Lucky’s : Declan by Rosanna Leo


by Rosanna Leo

Damn performance reviews.

That was the thought echoing in Declan Murphy’s mind as he watched his boss sort through his personnel file. Luckily, his boss, Angela Dillon, had long, sexy legs. They distracted him from his mental catalogue of “things I can improve.”

Declan raked his gaze from Angela’s ankle to knee, lingering on her shapely calf. While he should be considering all the ways he could help his firm’s bottom line, all he could envision was Angela’s legs wrapped around his waist as he pumped into her with all his might.

He silently expelled the breath he’d been holding. His obsession with his hot manager? Not good for the peace of mind.

Angela finally finished shuffling her papers and looked up with a smile. Her gaze dropped to his lips and lingered a tad too long to be appropriate for a manager/ subordinate relationship.

Nice. Declan smiled back.

“You’ve had a successful year here at Lyon Findley, Declan,” she began. She licked her rouged lips. “It was a pleasure working on your review. The executive team is impressed with your contributions. You worked hard to get the Mighty Cola and Happy Pet accounts. I can see you taking the advertising world by storm one day.”

“One day?” he asked.

Angela walked out from behind her desk and came to stand in front of it, leaning back on the bulky piece of furniture. Her movements brought him closer to her gorgeous legs which danced through his every daydream. Declan clenched his jaw and felt a thin bead of sweat break out on his upper lip. He struggled to keep his gaze on her dark eyes.

“I’ll be blunt,” she replied. “Declan, we’ve worked closely together for a while now. I respect you. There’s only one thing holding you back, and that is your confidence level.”

“I don’t lack confidence, Angela.”

“Not one-on-one, but I’ve seen you waver in groups. Big presentations are your downfall.” She crossed one stiletto-clad foot over the other. “I know you have the killer instinct. We just need to hone it.”

“How do you propose we do that, boss?” He allowed his gaze to drop momentarily to her knee, as if pondering a thought, while he contemplated dragging his tongue up that leg. Focus, man. “I want to get to the next level, Angela. I’ll do what it takes.”

She smiled again. “As it happens, I do have a suggestion. Have you ever considered taking improv classes?”

Declan gawked, not even trying to hide his surprise. He forced his eyebrows back to their normal position. “You want me to take acting classes?”

“A friend of mine has a studio not far from here that caters to executives. They do role playing and exercises to sharpen the instincts and free you from inhibition.”

Declan passed a hand over his face. He respected Angela, liked her. A lot. She’d given him a job when no one else had. And God only knew, he wanted to fuck her like it was nobody’s business. Hell, he’d do anything for her. But acting? “I don’t know, boss. I’m not really a Shakespeare kinda guy.”

Angela leaned forward. He breathed in her sweet perfume, the one that made her smell like a tasty sugar cookie. She placed a soft hand on his, and he grew hard at her touch. “Won’t you try, Declan? You’ll thank me later. I promise.”


Declan sat in the coffee shop across from the World’s A Stage Acting Studio. He sucked back some more of his black coffee, noting how quickly it had grown cold. Of course, he had been sitting there for a while trying to convince himself to play Kenneth fucking Branagh.

He just couldn’t. Somehow, he didn’t believe pretending to be a train with a pack of loony execs would help sharpen his “killer instinct.” Not that Angela was wrong. He did need to work on his presentation skills. He knew how to work an account on the phone, but didn’t have the first clue how to work a crowd. Every time he so much as thought of PowerPoint, he got weak in the knees.

He needed to do something more drastic, not recite poetry about flowers and shit.

He gulped back some more coffee and his attention was caught by the neon lights of the strip joint next door to the acting studio. Lucky’s Bar and Strip Club. Where the neon green lights boldly asked if he’d gotten lucky tonight. Declan smirked. And then he noticed the small sign on the strip club’s door.

Interviewing male dancers.

A niggling sensation tugged at his gut. Declan considered the sorts of acts Lucky’s must showcase. He’d bet his prick those dudes had confidence in spades.

He had done a little bit of hip-hop dancing in college to keep his former girlfriend Allie company. Allie had said he had a flair for dancing.

No effing way.

Yet even as the thought sounded in his head, Declan was already tossing his empty coffee cup in the trash. Within seconds, he headed across the street to Lucky’s.


“Height?” asked the man himself. Lucky O’Reilly’s gaze traveled over Declan’s frame with what looked to be a lecherous languor.

“Six three” answered Declan.


“Two hundred.”

Lucky cocked an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Declan’s bare chest. “All muscle, I see. You work out, kid?”

“Five times a week.”

“Good. Keep it up. You’ll need your stamina in this place.” Lucky paused and grinned, clearly wondering when Declan would run out with his tail between his legs. “I’ll need to see you shake your money maker. You dance?”

“A bit of hip-hop.”

“A bit’s all you need. The rest is attitude.” Lucky looked at Declan’s face, taking in every detail. “The ladies’ll love you with those green eyes and blond hair. You look like the boy next door … the type to climb into my daughter’s bedroom window.”

Declan laughed. Lucky might be a horny old toad, and he was pretty sure the man swung both ways, but he liked him nevertheless.

“Now the real audition,” intoned the bar owner. “And the part most boys fail. I need you to drop your drawers, kid.”

Declan hesitated a second, thought of Angela, and then did Lucky’s bidding. He stood, undid his belt and button, and let his dress pants fall to his ankles. Lucky’s eyes widened as Declan stood there in his fitted briefs.

“Mother of God, kid. What are you packing in there? Nine inches?”

Declan got hot in the face. “More or less.”

Lucky looked up, his cheeks pale. Poor guy looked winded, and a bit too curious for Declan’s peace of mind. “Welcome to Lucky’s. Can you start tonight?”


A month later.

Angela stared at Declan through the glass pane that separated their working spaces. When he glanced up and caught her in the act of eyeing his bulging biceps, his lips curled into a sexy smile.

She quickly looked away. She stared at him a lot, and he always caught her … and he always smiled.

Declan was a sexy guy, easily the best-looking she’d ever known. She’d always been a sucker for the roguish types who could make your panties drop with a twitch of their eyebrow. She bet he received a lot of hungry stares from women. Why, half the women in the office had thrown themselves at him in one way or another. And yet she never heard stories of his conquests. If he had slept with any of them, no one talked about it, which led her to believe he didn’t sleep around. Any woman in her right mind would brag to the sky and back if she’d managed to get Declan Murphy into her bed.

No, for some reason, her heated glances were the only ones she’d ever seen him acknowledge with a sly smile. Those smiles set her heart to racing and made her feel swollen and wet in all the right places.

Could it be he felt the same way she did? Could it be her presence sent him into a tailspin of hot desire, just as his did to her?


In her thirty-two years, years spent clawing her way up corporate ladders, she’d never managed to attract anyone as sinfully sexy as Declan.

Besides, she reminded herself with an audible groan, he was off-limits. Declan reported to her. At Lyon Findley, there were strict policies forbidding fraternization between managers and subordinates.

Of course, she had just heard of an opening at Stanton, Margolies and Turner. The firm was just as reputable as hers was. If she took a job there, she could fraternize with Declan all she wanted.

“What are you thinking?” she mumbled. “Planning a career change just so you can sleep with someone. Don’t be ridiculous.”

But she wasn’t just thinking of sleeping with him. She wanted to do all sorts of things with him. Meet his family, eat ice cream with him, fall asleep in his arms. Oh man, she had it bad.

Dismissing the idea as insanity, she returned to her work, but within seconds, her thoughts strayed to Declan again. He’d made some great strides with his presentation skills lately. In his last presentation to the upper echelon of Lyon Findley, he’d taken the room by storm. In fact, he’d exuded so much easy confidence, the execs had become his willing hostages.

She was thrilled with his progress, but curious. Her friend Larry from the acting studio had let it slip that Declan hadn’t shown up for even one single improv class. And yet she could swear there were dark circles under Declan’s eyes, as if he were tired. And he ran out of work most evenings in a rush. If he wasn’t going to Larry’s studio, where was he going?

And how had he drummed up the ability to ensnare an audience in a few weeks’ time?

Once again, she watched him pack up his things for the night and grab his leather jacket and briefcase. He turned and headed to her office. He knocked on the door and poked his head around the glass door.

“Good night, boss.”

The sound of his velvety deep voice caressed her eardrums and made her want so badly it hurt. She swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth. Stay professional. “Good night, Declan.”

He lingered for a moment and stared at her with such intensity she wanted to take off all her clothes. Then his lips firmed, he turned around and hurried out of the office.

Damn. Tonight she was determined to find out exactly how Declan was spending his evenings, and with whom.

Angela quickly tossed her belongings into her briefcase, grabbed her purse and insulated lunch bag, and followed him out the door.


Feeling like a stalker, Angela followed Declan toward Larry’s acting studio, and wondered where he was headed since she knew he hadn’t joined the classes. He walked at a good clip, and with his long legs, it was hard for her to keep up. Her Jimmy Choo’s with the strappy heel, precious as they were to her, didn’t help either. She struggled to keep pace while balancing her various bags and attempting not to give herself away.

“Why am I doing this?” she grumbled.

“Why are any of us doing this shit?” a homeless guy answered back as he ambled past.

Ignoring the man, Angela continued to wonder, but she knew the answer. She was doing this because she could no longer deny how much she wanted Declan and wanted to know everything about him. Because she wanted to find out what made him tick.

Because she was so hungry for him, her desire manifested like rumbling hunger pangs. It was a needy ache inside her.

When Angela saw Declan enter the next building on the block, she stopped in her tracks. Lucky’s? A male strip joint? She waited, frozen to her spot for a moment, and was sure Declan had made a mistake and he’d be right out.

He didn’t emerge from the doorway, no matter how much she wished for it to happen. After a few more moments, groups of women and men, who she suspected were gay, began to flood inside the club.

Angela’s heart bottomed out. Surely not.

Declan was a beautiful man. One any woman would pay to see naked.

A ripple of nervous energy, and something akin to excitement, tickled her spine. Angela realized her panties were drenched at the mere thought of Declan in his skivvies, shaking his parts at a horde of nameless women and men.

The good girl in her was shocked and appalled. A newly-discovered bad girl wanted to see more. On shaky legs, she joined the line at the door.

Maybe he’s just the bartender.

And maybe she wasn’t a dateless, former class valedictorian who’d spent her formative years in braces, and who now worked so hard she didn’t have time for a social life.

Steeling herself, Angela entered her first strip club.


As Declan slid on his Emerald Isle-inspired G-string, a manly hand patted his bare ass cheek. Without looking, he brushed the hand away and addressed his assailant. “Still hazing the newbie, Seamus?”

Seamus, clad in a matching G-string, sashayed in front of him. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“If I ever switch teams,” Declan chuckled, “you’ll be the first to know.” He drew on his tearaway pants and joined Seamus in the wings where the other man eyed the gathering audience. “What kinda crowd have we got tonight?”

Seamus poked his head around for a better view. “Looks like the usual. Some gays. Couple of bridal parties. Ooh, and look, a virgin. Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

“A virgin?”

“Yeah. Strip club virgin. Look at the poor thing shivering in the corner with her briefcase.” Seamus turned away, disinterested. “Someone get the frightened dear a drink.”

Declan looked out and felt the air constrict in his windpipe as he observed Angela standing in the corner. “Holy shit. It’s my boss.”

Seamus’s eyebrows grazed his hairline. He launched into a bad Ricky Ricardo impersonation. “Someone’s got some ‘splainin’ to do!” He walked off, laughing.

Declan stared, horrified and strangely intrigued. What on earth would possess Angela to visit a place like Lucky’s? She was the last woman he’d expect to see here.

Was she one of the horny multitude looking for a not-so-cheap thrill? Was she secretly a freak?

No, he listened to the office gossip. Angela was a good girl. He wasn’t even sure she dated much—which was a damn shame. And he’d be the first to admit that enticing her out of her shell and peeling her out of her clothes were topics that fascinated him to no end.

She took a chair at a small table, her feet shuffling with unsure steps like a frightened bird. She looked terrified. As a swell of protective emotion coursed through him, Declan fought the urge to rush into the crowd and enfold her in his arms. Dammit, he wanted to be her fucking knight in shining armor.

He had to do something. If he didn’t, his boss would soon witness him in all his glory. And from the paleness of her cheeks, she was liable to have a heart attack while doing so.

Declan gritted his teeth, stood up straight, and walked into the bar area. He mustered up all the dignity and bravado he could while wearing a green thong under his pants. Ignoring the hoots and catcalls from other customers, Declan made a beeline for Angela’s table. She turned and met his gaze; her pretty mouth fell open as she stared at his bare chest.

He sat down in front of her. “Hello, boss.”

The little puff of air that escaped from her lips carried his name. “Declan.”

She sounded astonished, and if he didn’t know any better, Declan would’ve thought he heard a hint of frustrated sensuality as she said his name. That whisper of yearning shook him more than the guttural cry of any other woman’s orgasm. For a split second, he denied what he’d heard. But as he watched her gaze drop and travel along each ridge of his ab muscles, he knew Angela wanted him.

He wanted her. And dammit, tonight he could care less about his job or his professional reputation.

He just wanted her.

“Declan.” She reached for his hand as if trying to run away with him, as if she wanted to rescue him. “What are you doing in this place?”

“’Honing my killer instinct.’ Isn’t that what you called it?” Try as he might, he couldn’t keep his voice from cracking. He’d held back the need for her for so long. He was ready to explode.

Her eyes watered, ever so slightly. Fuck, the last thing he needed was for her to feel sorry for him.

“I didn’t send you to this place.”

His lips quirked in a wry smile. “This place has a name, Angela. And they’ve been good to me. No one is holding me here against my will. And as you’ve seen, performing here has actually helped me in the delivery of my last few presentations.”

“I know, but…”

“But nothing,” he interrupted her, “I made the choice to strip. Sure, my Catholic parents would burst a gasket if they saw me. My mom would never leave the confessional again. Despite that, I’ve been having fun. And it’s not affecting my work, other than in a positive way.”

Her adorable face twisted into something between a pout and a frown. “What will people say?”

“I could give a flying fuck what anyone says, Angela. I wasn’t planning on staying here forever. And besides, the only opinion that ever mattered to me was yours.”

There. He’d said it. Let her chew on that for a while.

Her brown eyes widened and seemed to turn to black under the dim club lights. “I … I’m glad my opinion matters, but don’t you feel like a sex object?”

Okay. It was time to reel in this stubborn fish.

Declan leaned forward until his face was mere inches from hers. Before she could react, he brought a hand to her cheek and stroked it. He then let his thumb graze her bottom lip and allowed it to linger there, pressing the lush fullness. “I can see you’re upset. Don’t be. Stay for the show, Angela. I wanna dance for you tonight. Please? We can talk later.”

Angela blushed. He hardened. And then he pulled her close and kissed her as he’d always wanted to kiss her. Full on the mouth. Demanding.

She didn’t pull away; his proper, professional Angela yielded to his kiss, met him with urgency. She threw her arms around his neck, and for a moment, he didn’t know who was reeling in whom.

Nipping at her bottom lip, sucking on it none too gently, Declan demanded entrance, and she opened to him. He slid his tongue inside the sanctuary of her mouth, savoring her sweet taste. He thought his heart would pound out of his chest.

And as she let her tongue glide against his, he knew she was his.

Some minutes later, when they broke apart on a breath, he rested his forehead against hers. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“I think I might have an idea,” she whispered into his ear.

He gazed into her eyes. “You’ll stay, right?”

She nodded. “I’ll stay.”


As Declan walked away, disappearing into the mysterious world that was backstage at a male review, Angela struggled to regulate her erratic heartbeat.

Declan Murphy had kissed her. She’d kissed him back. And neither of them had been banished to some sort of magical, professional purgatory. Not yet anyway.

He’d tasted so good. She touched a finger to her lips and gently pressed spots that already felt bruised from their mutual lust. And now he was about to strip for her. Unreal. She’d already passed boundaries she’d never dreamed of crossing. That one searing kiss was already so inappropriate considering their work relationship, but she knew there was no going back.

She didn’t want to go back.

Angela barely registered the pounding music in the background. She didn’t really hear the announcer as he introduced the upcoming acts, so consumed was she with thoughts of her wayward … delicious … employee.

But when the announcer said the words “Dirty Declan,” she was all ears, her gaze pinned to the stage. As the host cracked a couple of rude jokes about the newest addition to the Lucky’s family, the Rolling Stones’ “Brown Sugar” blared over the speakers. Angela expelled the breath that had caught in her throat.

Declan strode onstage, as sexy and cocky as a professional football player entering a sports bar after the big game. He wasn’t dressed in a fancy costume, just tight, faded jeans and a white T-shirt that accentuated every muscle. Smiling, he rotated his hips, and the audience responded. He waggled his eyebrows at a couple of women sitting in front of the runway, and those women swooned. He turned around and flexed his perfect ass in front of the crowd, and Angela heard gasps.

He owned the room.

He jumped off the stage and danced toward her little table, using moves she’d never dreamed he knew. Heat rushed into her face. Moisture pooled between her legs. Declan stopped at her table, reached for her hand, and kissed it. She felt as cherished as a queen. The secret smile he offered her set her heart racing.

When he mouthed the word, “later,” it was all Angela could do not to come right there in her seat.

He raced back to the runway, jumped up, and back flipped to the center of the stage. The crowd responded with excited hoots. Once he reached center stage, Declan ripped at his T-shirt; it fell off him. Most of the audience members jumped to their feet, cheering and waving bills at him. He ran down the runway and pointed at two matronly ladies, who blushed in response. When he stepped down into the crowd and grinded against each one in turn, their blushes turned into hot smiles. Before the song reached its end, he took the stage again, reached down, pulled at his pants, and tore them away.

The crowd went wild at the sight of his packed, green G-string. Declan prowled downstage; his muscles flexed like those of a panther on the hunt. Women ran forward to stuff his G-string with twenties.

They loved him. And Angela realized she did, too.


At the end of the stage show, when all the dancers mingled with the audience in hopes of soliciting private dances upstairs, Declan headed straight for Angela. He’d given his last dance tonight and didn’t need any additional tips.

She still sat demurely at her table, sipping a piña colada out of an enormous coconut. Good. She’d have to be a bit drunk to go with him to a private room.

What was she thinking?

She looked up as he approached; her face lit up with a shy smile. She took a breath as if about to launch into a speech. “Declan…”

“No, don’t,” he said. “Don’t talk. Don’t think. Just come with me.” He grabbed her hand and her bags and then led her upstairs into one of the rooms designated for private lap dances.

She started to speak as they entered the room. He didn’t give her a chance. He locked the door, backed her against the nearest wall, and kissed her as if his life depended on it. As if they’d only ever have this moment.

Angela responded—thank God—throwing herself against him with abandon.

He tore at her blazer and blouse. She ripped at his tearaways and G-string.

Declan kissed a trail down her neck to her white bra, then peeled away the lacy garment. He cupped her breasts, awed by their beauty.

He looked into her eyes. “I wanted our first time to be special. Maybe this isn’t the right place. You deserve better.”

She put a finger to his lips. “Declan. Fuck me already.”

He sucked her finger into his mouth, nipped it gently, and then released it. He grinned. “If you insist, boss.”

He leaned down and took one dusky nipple into his mouth while working hard to rid her of the rest of her clothes. Skirt. Heels. Panties. They flew across the room.

Declan reached a hand between her legs, and the feel of her sopping wetness caused a bead of perspiration to break out on his lip. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. He’d make it his personal mission to make her this wet every day for the rest of their lives. As he made the vow, she stroked the length of his cock and he moaned in pleasure. “God, Angela, I need to be inside you so badly.”

“Take me,” she whispered and then licked his neck.

He bent down, shoved his hand in the pocket of his discarded pants, and found one of the condoms he’d stored. He rolled it on and reached for her. “C’mere.”

Declan picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He grunted as he prodded her slick opening. With a kiss, he impaled her on his hungry cock.

“Oh, dear God,” she cried. “I knew you were big, I mean, I saw almost everything. But this? Oh, sweet Lord.”

He cursed himself for being so eager. “Shit. Am I hurting you?”

“Fuck, no!” She let out a strangled shout. “Don’t stop.”

He took her against the wall, hard and fast, revelling in the tight feel of her. And the whole time she clung to him, her nails scraping his back, her fingers plunging into his hair. He held her tightly, desperate to plumb her depths, to touch her soul. They were perfect together, just as he’d always known they would be. In his heart, he wasn’t simply fucking Angela; he was making love, making her his.

And he’d never let her go. They’d wasted too much time already.

Declan thrust into her until she quivered around him and then he shouted her name. Even as their orgasms wound down, he was coming up with ways to make love to her again. This quick fuck in the back room of a strip club took care of immediate needs, but the next time he wanted to show her how much he cared. Hell, he’d shower her with rose petals and recite some goddamned Shakespeare if she wanted.

As the most potent orgasm of his life faded away with its last violent spasms, Declan sagged against her. He squeezed her and buried his face in the crook of her soft neck. She smelled so good, he wanted to stay there forever. He danced his tongue along her shoulder, licking the groove of her collar bone, nibbling at her earlobe. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t want to put you down. Ever.”

Angela lifted her head from his shoulder.

Jesus Murphy, she was gorgeous with her lipstick smeared and her hair tousled.

Her brows creased in a tiny frown. “Oh, Declan. What are we going to do?”

He brushed her lips with his. “Do about what, angel?”

“Work. Yours and mine.”

He smiled, so taken by her concern. “I’ve taken care of it. I promise.”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled out slowly and set her down. God, he hated pulling out of her. He quickly disposed of the condom in the adjoining bathroom trash and then walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. “I know what I’m going to do. What I’ve already done. Tonight was my last dance at Lucky’s.”

Her brown eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yup.” He kissed her on the lips, letting his tongue trace her mouth. “And I’ll tell you what else I’ve done. I’ve accepted a new job at Stanton, Margolies and Turner. I start in two weeks.”

She gazed at him, as the beginnings of a heartbreaking smile teased the corners of her eyes.

He ran two fingers gently along her cheek. “I don’t want to compromise your job. You’ve worked hard to get where you are. And I don’t want to have to hide what I feel for you anymore. You’re too special to me.”

Tears formed in her eyes, which she didn’t bother to blink away. Her lips curled into a beautiful smile and made his spirit soar. “You did that for me?”

“I love you.” His voice cracked. “I’d do anything for you.”

She hugged him tightly, pressing her breasts against his chest and then sighed. “I love you, too.”

He picked her up, carried her to the couch, sat down, and cradled her in his arms. He stroked his fingers through her hair and kissed her face over and over again.

Tonight, he really was lucky.

Lucky’s Bar and Strip Club – Have you gotten lucky tonight?

The Ladies of Love Lust and Laptops bring you ten days and ten sexy stories visiting: 

 Lucky’s Bar and Strip Club – Have you gotten lucky tonight?


Padraig ‘Lucky’ O’Reilly let out a contented sigh as he lifted the bottle of Irish whiskey and poured himself a generous slug. Life could be a lot worse. He shifted slightly on his stool and glanced at the old photo hanging on the wall behind the bar. Back in the day, he’d sported a fine head of red hair, rippling abs, and had a bevy of beautiful women willing to do his bidding.

So he might not be able to slip into his thong anymore, his dick was harder to find with his beer gut in the way, and what was left of his hair was mostly grey, but he was the master of all he surveyed.

Lucky’s was one of New York’s finest male strip joints.

He’d built it up from nothing to become one of the must-visit-clubs in the U.S. for traveling dance troupes. Finding a woman and settling down had never been a priority in his life, although he would never regret fathering his firecracker daughters.

Lucky groaned softly and ran his fingers over Molly’s soft brown hair. She stood up and wiped the back of her hand across her lips. “You want me to do anything else for ya, Lucky?”

He drained his glass and placed it on the bar top. Molly stood chewing her bottom lip as he stowed his cock and zipped up. “No, that was good. You run along.”

She dropped a kiss on his cheek, and he watched her sashay across the empty room and disappear out the door. Maybe he’d make an honest woman of her one day.

The door she had wandered through opened and a young man with a head covered in dark brown stubble stepped inside. “I’m looking for Lucky O’Reilly. Seamus said you might be hiring?”

Lucky grinned and got to his feet. Fresh blood. Molly could wait for her Mr. Right. Why would he want to settle for ground beef when there was a whole sexual smorgasbord on offer?

Besides, the Australians were kicking their tour off tomorrow, and St Patrick’s Day was only a week away. He had a feeling life was about to get far too hectic to worry about how much longer Molly would give him head without him making more of a commitment than unzipping his pants.

Lucky crossed the room and held out his hand. “So, you think you’ve got what it takes to be one of Lucky’s Charms?”

Be sure to come back and read along as the Ladies of Love Lust and Laptops celebrate St. Patrick’s day in sexy style.

March 11  – Lucky’s:  Ciaran by Lillian Grant

March 12  – Lucky’s: Declan by Rosanna Leo

March 13  – Lucky’s: Lily by Cherie Nicholls

March 14  – Lucky’s: Tate by Monette Michaels

March 15  –  Lucky’s: Colt by Emilia Mancini

March 18  – Lucky’s Colm:  by Lynn Lorenz

March 19  – Lucky’s:  Miguel by Becca Jameson

March 20  – Lucky’s: Seamus by Vanessa North

March 21  –  Lucky’s: Devlin by Parker Kincade

March 22  –  Lucky’s: Liam by Christy Gissendaner (aka Robin Danner)