Her Trick His Treat (Cherry On Top Tales #5)

Chapter Two-Tommy

CHAPTER TWO-TOMMY

“ W hat do you think of the DJ?” Sonny asked, and I dipped my head.

It was hard to emote with my mask on, but it was Halloween, and I wanted to come out tonight incognito.

Besides, the DJ was fine. The Whiskey Bar, too.

“Wassup Tommy! I can’t believe you came, bro,” Buck yelled over the pounding bass, slapping my back a little harder than was necessary.

“‘Sup with you two fuckers? Man, I can’t believe you’re both married. What happened to being single and studly forever?”

I shouted back.

“You mean, how did we get so lucky to wind up blissfully married while poor you still has to wade through the toxic sludge that is the dating pool?” Sonny asked.

“Fuck off! I was just fucking with you, man. You’re both very lucky,” I said, and meant it.

“Yeah, right. How much tail you chasing now that your single is top of the charts?” Sonny asked, but I just shook my head.

He’d called it my single , but I was the producer, not the performer.

Ten years in the music business and I’d just started making bank about three years ago.

I had a handful of talent I worked with, but the list was growing. I was very selective, of course.

But I was also very good. I offered the fairest contracts out there. I didn’t want to end up on a TV special in twenty years as the douchebag who took advantage of such-and-such pop star when they didn’t know any better.

This newest top single that Sonny mentioned was from a little girl from Iowa who played guitar and had a big smile. She was only fifteen and had an innocence the whole world loved and related to.

Anyway, the second I heard her, I knew she was going to be special. And I was right. I signed her immediately.

It was a gift I had, finding talent. But it was a lonely life. Truth was, I worked so much building my company, Titanium Sound Productions.

My team was handpicked. I had everyone I needed with me. Lawyers, sound engineers, musicians, a recording studio, instruments, a social media team, marketers, and even our very own on call mental health specialist.

Titanium Sound Productions was a stigma free zone, and I made sure everybody fucking knew it.

With millions in the bank, awards lining my shelf, and platinum records on the wall, with the promise of more to come, I was living my dream

Only, I realized when I reconnected with my old college pals, I’d hardly invested any time in my personal life.

I’d recently moved my entire company from Los Angeles to New York City. I hated living in Manhattan though, and Sonny had immediately put me in contact with his realtor.

I was now the proud owner of a giant fucking house right here in Montclair. The commute was less than an hour, so it was fine. Besides, I’d managed to create such a fine-tuned team I hardly had to go into the office anymore at all.

“The girls are here,” Buck cut in, his smile going from ear to ear as a group of females walked in through the back entrance.

“Ready to meet the best damn women you ever saw?” Sonny asked before running over to embrace his heavily pregnant wife.

I recognized Jeremy Kent from school. He was with the foursome of women who’d entered the bar.

They were all wearing costumes, but so far mine was the only one with a full mask. I loved the anonymity it gave me. The guys introduced me, and I learned everyone’s name.

“A pleasure,” I said, aware my voice sounded odd beneath the mask.

“Holy shit, Tommy! Are you a shadow daddy ?” Delani asked.

The other women busted out laughing while their men just looked confused before turning similar glares my way.

The fuck did I do?

“Uh,” I replied, having no idea what a shadow daddy was, much less if I was one.

“Fucking dick,” Buck growled, but his wife elbowed him and earned my eternal gratitude.

Last thing I wanted to do was scrapple with that fucking beast. So, hands raised in surrender, it was. He just growled and shoved me a little while the women laughed their asses off.

I mean, I was no slouch when it came to staying fit, but I was a pacifist at heart.

Well. Kinda.

Fine.

I didn’t believe in fighting, but I had no desire to fight anyone. Least of all my old school buddies.

I didn’t know what the fuck a shadow daddy was, but the wolf whistles and catcalls were somewhat gratifying.

I struck a pose, flexing my muscles in the skintight t-shirt and jeans I had on. Then, tilting my head in my insane looking skull mask, I growled deep and low.

The ladies went wild. And my boys were pissed.

Ha ha ha.

“Oh my God, I wish Cam was here! She would love you!” Jan said, and I dipped my head in acknowledgement.

“Bro, the fuck?” Sonny growled this time, and I couldn’t help it, I laughed out loud.

“That’s okay, Sonny, I hear women like it when their husbands gain sympathy weight during pregnancy,” I said, patting his still flat stomach.

“You fuck,” he replied, elbowing me in my gut.

But I was expecting it, and I already flexed my abs, so it didn’t hurt much. That got more laughs and soon all the couples were hugging it out while I stood there with my dick in my hand.

Metaphorically. Not literally.

I wasn’t a fucking pervert.

Truth was, being around all that love-dovey energy was making me feel like a fifth, or was it a seventh wheel?

The conversation was turned over to the women who were all lamenting that one of theirs hadn’t shown up, but I was not really listening.

“Tommy, will you tell me if you see Camryn?” Jan asked.

I nodded even though I had no idea who that was.

“Excuse me,” I said to the ladies and turned towards the front bar.

I was looking for something to take my mind off my unfortunately single state when I saw her .

Holy. Fuck.

It was like all the air in my lungs got sucked out by the gorgeous vixen. She had legs for miles swathed in sheer black lace and a miniskirt that was so fucking short I was positive she wasn’t wearing panties.

Typically, I’d always gravitated towards thin women.

Tall. Skinny. Flat-chested. Athletic builds.

But not her. This female was all curves.

Her hourglass figure reminded me of one of those 1950s blonde bombshell posters. You know the kind. Only this one took a turn at the Playboy mansion.

Her outfit was just a hair’s breadth away from being indecent. The thin little string tied around her neck was all that held her top on. One breath and I feared it would snap, leaving her bounty on display for every fucker in the place.

A thought which left me feeling both turned on and homicidal at the same time.

Odd, to say the least.

Sonny had led me to believe The Whiskey Bar was not a club in any sense of the word, but for tonight, it was dressed up as one. The DJ had done one helluva job dressing the place up to resemble one.

There were strobe lights in purple and orange, which did nothing to relieve the darkness. If anything, they just made it even more confusing.

But my gaze was locked on my target, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her if I tried. This woman oozed confidence.

It was heady and intoxicating. Like her mettle was a drug, and I was fast becoming an addict.

Who was she?

What was her name?

Was she here alone?

All excellent questions. All things I promised myself I would find out in the next ten minutes.

I clenched my jaw as some idiot walked up to her.

The guy was skinny fat. I know neither name was nice, but what else did you call guys like that?

Pompous.

Arrogant.

Pencil dick.

You know exactly who I was talking about. Those guys who couldn’t be bothered going to the gym or getting their haircut.

The ones who thought being thin was enough for him to approach a fine ass woman with more curves than his pencil dick could handle.

Maybe it did work for him. Who was I to judge?

But not tonight. And not with her.

Vixen here was light years out of his league.

She was sexy and refined. Like a vintage bottle of fine wine.

Classy.

Delicate.

Demanding appreciation.

He was more of a light beer kind of guy. Yeah. No fucking way. Pencil Dick was simply no match for her.

He wore an ill-fitting off-the-rack suit and his only nod to the costume party was a pair of wolf ears on his head. The kind attached to a metal headband.

Fucking amateur.

He looked like a teenaged girl, for fuck’s sake. And yeah, I was focusing way too much on this fucker and not enough on her.

Goddamn. She was gorgeous.

My heart pumped heavily inside my chest, pushing blood through my veins, and I wondered if anyone could hear how fucking loud it was.

A blonde in a red devil costume pressed against me, a come hither expression on her heavily made-up face, but I shook my head and gently set her aside.

I didn’t want anyone else touching me tonight.

Only her. My midnight draped goddess.

Her dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and her eyes were decked out with smoky shadow and liner.

Witchcraft .

She had on blood red lipstick, and I couldn't wait to suck it off her lips.

Or better yet, to see that red stain smeared across my cock.

Fuck, my dick was throbbing as I stalked her across the bar. When I got there, she raised her big brown eyes to mine, er , my mask.

Heat filled her gaze, and that was the only thing that stopped me from taking the thing off.

“Excuse me,” Pencil Dick said, as I crowded him.

I leaned down, right next to his ear.

“Move.”

That was all it took for him to run right the fuck out of there.

Good.

I didn’t want to get my hands dirty. But there were some things in life worth fighting for.

She was one of them.