Time Out (Daddies Know Best #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Hudson

The sting of cheap whiskey burns as I swallow it like a lump of acidic coal. The last place I want to be right now is in this strip club, so I’m hoping the liquor will soften the edges of my prickly mood for the next hour until I can politely leave.

For now, I’m solidly planted at a high top in the back corner, with my phone to my ear, listening to my best friend and client Jackson go over the details of the upcoming house project I’m overseeing for him.

The burning in my esophagus is nothing compared to the testosterone-fueled heat coming from the men surrounding the stage. At ten PM on a Thursday, the dark space is sparsely filled. Breathing the musty air, with the scent of overly-applied perfume that mixes with the thumping bass, my senses are on overload.

The ten or so guys surrounding the stage are intently focused on the brightly lit chrome pole at my friend Wilson’s new strip club.

I should say, the club is new to him, not newly built or opened. It came to him through an inheritance with pre-stickied floors and a lightning rod of trouble-fueled girls bouncing their tits in any man’s face that holds up a few dollar bills.

The only tits on my mind are the ones I saw jiggling last night when I watched a girl hop a fence into the yard of an abandoned, boarded-up house down near the airport after I dropped off Jackson and his wife for their trip to Aruba.

The girl at the boarded-up house didn’t look old enough to be alone in that part of town, and my immediate sense of protectiveness surrounding her still has a solid grip on me somehow.

My thoughts have been a mixture of unabated lust and concern ever since. I couldn’t sleep. I got dressed and drove down there at two am and circled the house a few times before convincing myself I’d lost my damn mind. How could one little glance at a random girl on the street turn me inside out?

She was barely noticeable really, wearing this dingy pink beanie with her hair tucked underneath, sporting a backpack and mud-colored clothes two sizes too big, but that didn’t stop me from noting just what a curvy, succulent body she was hiding under there.

I don’t know what the fuck has come over me. She’s invaded me like some glorious virus and I never want to be well again.

“Crew’s going to be back in the morning to finish the demo.” Jackson’s voice comes through, breaking through my fantasies of the voluptuous beauty. I shake my head and try to focus. “Is your place coming along too? Glad this worked out. We had this vacation planned for a month and I couldn’t have Chastity there with workers all over the damn place. I’d be firing the crew every fucking day or getting arrested for assault. Or murder. I mean, I’m sorry about the fire at your place, but I’m glad you were staying in the guest wing already. You can supervise the reno for me. You’ll be well compensated.”

“Yeah, I’m not worried about the money. But, you gotta watch that temper. Or keep your wife in a cardboard box 24/7. But, yeah man, I’ll keep an eye on everything,” I tell him, raising my voice over the music and the excited hoots and whistles around me. “My place should be back to livable in the next few weeks. Using the same construction company worked out great. They already know I’m an asshole, but I’m fair. I’ve got a rapport with the crew, things should go smooth.”

“No more fucking Jiffy Pop for you,” he says as I blow out a long breath, avoiding eye contact with the topless girls that keep walking by. “I can’t believe you fell asleep with Jiffy Pop on the stove. Who the fuck even uses Jiffy Pop anymore?”

“It’s the only way to cook popcorn. Microwave popcorn is shit.” I sniff, squeezing my jaw, the anxiety building in my gut like barbed wire knots as I wonder where the little fence-hopping cherub is tonight. Is she cold? Hungry? Why was she there in the first place?

I nearly burned my own house to the ground when my nightly Jiffy Pop craving kicked in after I hadn’t slept for over twenty-four hours on a round-trip drive with Jackson to Detroit and back, as well as trying to keep up on the other twenty drivers that work for me that seem to need constant babysitting.

Being in business for myself is never something I thought I’d accomplish. But my limo/chauffeur business has done well, and it’s a dream and a nightmare all wrapped up together.

“Oh, Clancy, one more thing—” Jackson starts, but I cut him off.

“It’s Hudson . We’ve worked together seven years, I’ve told you thousands of fucking times I hate that fucking name . Why you gotta bust my balls, man?”

“Clancy is a stand-up guy. People hire limo drivers named Clancy . You have twenty drivers in your stable now… Your fucking business is called Clancy Carriages…. Hudson is that dumb ass guy in that Aliens movie.”

Clancy is on my birth certificate, and I’ve always hated it for a variety of reasons. I got nicknamed Hudson after my first stint at Hudson Correctional when I was nineteen. I took a second trip back to that hellhole a few years later, and after that the name just stuck.

“Go have fun. I’ll meet the crew in the morning. A person could get lost in that fucking house already and you’re renovating the kitchen and adding an addition? Anyway, doesn’t matter. I gotta go and you gotta get back to your wife.” I’m ready to apologize to Wilson and tell him I need to get out of here because this place is depressing as fuck.

Jackson laughs, and my mood starts to lift as I decide it’s time to go. “She says hi. From her knees…”

“Oh, fuck off ,” I bark, as I see Wilson heading my way from the back hallway.

“Tell Wilson I said good luck on the new titty adventure. Strip clubs gotta be a pain in the ass to run, and really, who needs more than two tits? Two hands, two tits, it’s a perfect balance.” I hear Chastity’s voice in the background saying something about him not even thinking about any other tits, and to keep his eyes where they belong, which makes my dick twitch thinking about the only fucking tits I’d like to have my eyes on right now.

But I’m an asshole, and I let her get away…

“Goodbye,” I say and click off ready to head to the door.

“Did you see that?” Wilson steps between me and the condom machine that hangs on the back wall by the men’s room. It’s made to look like an old-school slot machine. You put in your money, you pull the handle, it blinks and makes an obnoxious dinging sound, and out drops your ten-dollar condom.

I spin my glass of ice water on the tabletop, taking a sip and washing away the last of the whiskey flavor before telling Wilson I’m on my way out the door.

“See what?” I answer, glancing toward the stage where a redhead in a cowgirl outfit drops her g-string, then flings herself onto the chrome pole, climbing it like the stage is about to go up in flames.

Wilson points toward the entry where a bouncer is collecting cover fees and checking ID’s.

My head is pounding in time to the music and all I want to do is go back downtown to stalk that abandoned house and see if I can find the girl. And this time, I’m not driving away without her.

“See that guy coming in?” Wilson nods toward the group coming in. “He’s here every night with those girls, or others that look just like them. They could be Kensie , for God’s sake.”

Kensie is his niece, step-niece actually, but by all accounts, he’s been her father.

He’s dedicated himself to her for the last eleven years.

He and I have been friends since high school. We went different directions for a while. He went to college and I went to the penitentiary, but we’ve always been there for each other.

“You sure they’re 18?” I ask, shaking my head.

He shrugs. “I’m told they check all the girls who dance. At the door, I’m not a hundred percent sure. I have no fucking idea how this place runs, man. I’m a fucking engineer for Christ Sake, why did my fucking brother leave this place to me?”

I nod, not my problem but yeah, he’s out of his element for sure.

I’ve not actually been with a woman for a few years. I’ve been on the wrong side of a few cheating exes and watched the way my mother played men for whatever she could get. In the end, with my own relationships, although I was pissed that my trust was broken, every time the end has come, I’ve only felt relief.

And who the fuck cares if I’m thirty-five and single?

But I don’t want to be single anymore… I want to find that girl and secure her into my life, by any means necessary.

Fuck. I’m losing it.

What the fuck was a prize like her doing in that shitty part of town for starters? Then, what was she doing clearly breaking into a house that was not fit to be occupied?

Wilson shoots me a smile as the DJ’s voice cuts through the Usher song that’s come on.

“ Aaaaaaaand now it’s time for the real fun to begin! All you thick thigh, jiggly ass lovers…it’s the official start of Chubby Chaser’s night, and you all are in for a banger tonight!”

The urge to go out to the car for another stress relief session takes me by the balls. But it’s more thinking she’s out there somewhere. Maybe in that house, alone. Rage hits me like a bat to the side of my head when the music ramps up.

The announcer’s staticky voice comes back through the speakers. “For all your BBW pleasure, do we have a treat for you! Up first is a fresh, cherry-picked amateur, ready to give you a first look at all the curves you can handle!” The DJ continues his introduction as Guns N Roses’ ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ ramps up. The whistles and catcalls start from the gathered hounds, and whatever is about to happen is the main event. “Give a round welcoming applause to our first up and a stripper stage virgin, Fay Wraaaaaaaaay! Paws off this one, you filthy gorillas! Unless of course you want to slip her a hundred, and we will find you a VIP room where it’s don’t ask, don’t tell!”

The place erupts as the stage curtains flutter, then pull back just enough for the girl to appear. Everything in the room goes dark, except for the look of terror in those blue eyes.

I’d know those eyes anywhere.

And that fucking body. Jesus, even under the baggy clothes from yesterday, this is the prize package I knew she was hiding.

Rage tangles in my core and burns over my skin.

It’s a lucky thing for every man in this place that I left my Glock in the car, secured in my glove box, because otherwise, I’d be reloading right fucking now.

The bright lights turn her innocent eyes to slits as she shuffles forward with arms wide like she’s walking a tightrope on those ankle-breaker Lucite platform shoes she’s wearing.

Jesus, it’s her . It’s really fucking her.

Every fantasy over the last twenty-four hours, of mounting her from behind and fucking one hot fucking load of jizz after another into her soft body, suddenly comes streaming back.

Wilson said he vets the dancers, right? She’s gotta be 18.

Fuck, God, please let her be 18.

Men are leering and salivating, and I want to shove my thumbs into every eye socket in the place and listen to the sound of eyeballs popping as they burst, never to soil her with their leering gazes again.

I want to leave this place looking like fucking Scarface went to fucking town in here, with blood splatters and testicular matter flung everywhere, and piles of bodies left as a testament to the lengths I will go to protect what is mine.

MINE.

I swear the glorious sensation of her silky walls wrapping around my dick as I slip my hands around the soft warmth of her neck is as real as my throbbing hard-on. Her hair is held in two bobbing pigtails on the sides of her head, one dyed red and one blue, and I want to grab onto them like handlebars and spread her tonsils with my cock as I give her a good, hard face fuck and teach her about the only man flavor she will ever know from this day forward.

I’m on my feet. Wilson catches the murderous intent in my eyes and tries to head me off with a grip to my bicep.

I shoot him a look, and he lets go, and my heart is about to ram through my chest.

I throw a roundhouse punch at a guy humping the air, screaming something about his dick and her fat bottom.

“Jesus, Hudson, you okay?”

I leave Wilson and his questions behind me, throwing myself toward the air-humper until he’s on the floor, gasping, then leap onto a long string of pushed-together tables that lead toward the stage, walking them like a runway, kicking glasses and beer bottles to the floor as I go.

Two bouncers start to rush me, but I hear Wilson calling them off. Lucky for them, because I’d have no problem leveling this entire place to get to her. I’d burn Rome to the ground to protect her. There’s maybe thirty or so guys in here by now. I’d take them all on.

She’s mine.

Either it’s God’s work, or the devil is playing a hard fucking joke. How else would it be that the girl I’ve been obsessing about shows up, packaged in a red and blue bra and thong, and delivered to me like a Fourth of July firecracker?

Her eyes connect to mine as she takes her first awkward spin on the pole, nearly falling to her knees, losing her balance, but I’m there to catch her.

I’ve got you, baby.

“I got a thousand bucks right here!” A guy leans over the edge of the stage, waving a wad of cash. “You give me first shot… I pay you another thousand when you get on your knees for me, sugar!”

I scoop her up in a bear hug, then deliver the heel of my boot into the disrespecting motherfucker’s face, sending a spray of blood from his nose as I lock her against me.

“Hey!” she tries, but I’ve got her hauled off the stage, breathing fire, as I rip the ‘Chubby Chaser’s Night Every Thursday!’ banner off the wall and wrap it around her shoulders, covering her from wandering eyes.

I’m heading for the door with her stumbling and yelping as we go. Feeling her soft curves under my hands makes me want to eat her fucking alive. She’s got the sexiest fucking little tummy roll, and don’t even get me started on that five-handful, five-alarm ass she’s walking around with like it’s not about to set this place on fire.

Her age may say she’s a woman, but she’s not. Feelings I’ve never had surge through me as her strawberries and cream scent invades my very being, shaking me down to my foundation.

“Who are you?” Her fluttering voice wraps around me like a warm blanket. “I have to do this tonight , you understand? It’s taken four gin and tonics to get out on stage, I can’t do that again! I need the money. If I don’t dance, I don’t get paid. If I win…”

God, she sounds desperate. She’s a lamb in the lion’s den, and as much as I try to push away my own depraved thoughts, they pound inside of me like a primal drum, imagining those sweet round cheeks decorated with gobs of my sticky release.

I stomp and grunt through the crowd, holding her hard at my side, straight-arming anyone that comes too close. I’ve got her down the back hall and out the exit into the chilly night air which is swirling with the scent of cigarettes and marijuana.

A small group of dancers, and what are either patrons, pimps or boyfriends, shoot us a look, but don’t say anything as I half drag my little strawberry treat toward my black Bentley.

“I’m not going with you. Let me go!” She’s fighting now. The shock of me dragging her ripe, round ass from the stage and out into the night must be wearing off, and she’s catching on a stranger is about to kidnap her. She kicks up a good fuss, and my dick only gets harder.

I pin her against the side of the car, holding my thumbprint against the sensor, and the passenger door clicks open.

“You like it rough, shortcake?”

I brace my forearm just below her neck, the fingers of my other hand finding the cheap shiny red and blue fabric covering her breasts and yanking it down.

She yelps and sputters, her hands slapping at mine as her eyes widen, searching my face for some clue as to just how much evil she’s about to encounter.

But, God, with that look, I feel her wiggling her way down inside me with those baby blues, and there’s a pain in my chest as my balls tighten and my sense of right and wrong dissipates into the night.

Hatred roils through me even at Wilson for allowing her into the club. For letting her put herself in the position to have other men look at her, let alone touch her.

Her tits are the things of legend. Those scraps of fabric barely covered her nipples, but now that I’ve exposed the entirety of their beauty, I almost blow down my leg. The nipples are round as the top of a cupcake, with her areolas and nipples drawing tight in a deep pink, making my mouth water.

“You realize this is what you get when you get up there and tempt men,” I growl, hating myself for being rough instead of cradling her into my chest like I want to, but my history with women has my defenses up.

“You realize what you’re going to get when I get away from you? Five to ten, with a sexual offender registration for the rest of your life,” she hisses back with defiance. Fear and anger mix in her flawless face as I shrug, and she grunts trying to pull my arm from her chest.

She’s fighting, but not fighting for her life, which confuses and makes me fucking throb.

“If you’re going to rape me, just get it over with. I doubt it will even hurt. Men like you are usually…” She narrows her eyes, working her hand upward with her thumb and forefinger a half inch apart as I kick her feet wide, releasing her tit to take a handful of that sweet, soaking heat between her legs. Her breath stalls mid-sentence as my grip locks down on her intimate space, but her resolve returns after a beat. “I’ll probably still be a virgin when you’re done with me.”

Virgin?

“You wanted to get up there and show this off,” I give her slick wetness a squeeze, “drive men crazy, well this is what you get.”

“I did not get up there to show this off .”

“Spread your legs, that’s what you were going to do anyway, wasn’t it? Spread your legs and show off, then what? Charge them a few hundred for a quick grope? Let them take this tight little girl pussy for a ride?”

Wildness tears inside me as I consider the potential truth in my words, but the shock and confusion on her face tell me maybe that was not in her playbook.

She shakes her head, tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

Rage and lust choke me as silky wetness melts between my fingers. “There’s a long list of things wrong with me,” I grunt. “You were going to use this body to hypnotize men and have them so out of their minds, they’d give you the keys to any kingdom for one wet taste. You’d have them all on their knees by the end of the night. But not me, shortcake, you didn’t plan on me.”

Our eyes stay locked for a long moment as my middle finger presses into the holy land, and I feel the proof of her words.

She’s a fucking virgin, and realization floods through me that I’m technically assaulting this girl. My girl. Fuck, I’ve lost my fucking mind, but I’m sure that’s exactly what she wants.

“Perfect tits. A juicy, tight pussy, all wrapped up in a curvy, killer package. Of all the bars in all the towns, you had to be in this one tonight,” I mumble, stumbling back, releasing her except for my fingers locking around her wrist so she can’t get away. And that makes me fucking mad, too, because she should be trying a lot harder than this to fight me off. She should be screaming, biting, kicking and doing whatever it takes to get away. It better be that the alcohol has scrambled her survival instincts, because if not she’s in for the fucking spanking of her life.

I clench my teeth so tight, they make a cracking sound in my ears and pain shoots from my jaw down my back. I keep a solid grip on her right wrist as I swing open the door, turning back ready to manhandle her lush softness into the front seat.

But before I can, she starts to squirm, the banner I wrapped her in slipping from her shoulders to crumple at our feet, then my little strawberry sundae hauls off and delivers a slap across my face so hard, I stumble back, black dots swirling in my vision, and fuck, I’m not mad.

Oh, no.

It seals her fate.

I think I’m in love.