Kinkaid has a secret that he keeps from everyone. He strips to help pay the medical bills for his grandfather that he takes care of. His MC brothers don't know and neither does his best friend Sadie. Until one night when he finishes his performance and comes face to face with Sadie. This one night changes how they see each other opening their minds to something more. I loved Kinkaid. He was sexy and sweet. I loved him with Sadie. He was surprised that she has had feelings for him before that one night. They are scorching hot together. I really loved their story.
I give Kinkaid 5 hearts!
Kinkaid
Bonafide pussy magnet. Kinky Kaid I wanna get laid. Yeah, I’ve been called that shit and more. It comes with the territory. See, I’m a male stripper. I shake my moneymaker so I can pay the bills and take care of my people.
I’m also a hardcore, hell-bent biker dude, the newest prospect at Retribution MC. Probie 2.0, and they can never find out how I earn my living. Women love me. They toss their panties at me. They push hundred dollar bills into my G-string. I’m down and dirty and the honeys dig it. All but one.
There’s this girl, Sadie. She’s beautiful and funny and kickass with some major ink. I’d never make a move on her because she’s my best friend.
Sadie
Best friend? Bullshit. Kinkaid treats me like I’m his kid sister. I’m the hell-raiser, the tomboy dirt biker, his late night call but never like that. He thinks he’s safe from me. I’m going to prove him wrong. I’ll make him see me as a woman one way or the other.
When I find out what Kinkaid’s been hiding there’s hell to pay. Except then he gives me a lap dance. A hot, wicked, panty-melting lap dance. A lap dance that unleashes our intense desire, fresh jealousy, distrust and anger.
Everything changes after that, and not for the better. I love him. I hate him. I can’t lose him. Sometimes I can’t stand him. He’s hot as sin on a sultry lowcountry night, and he’s still my best friend.
I don’t know if he’s man enough to give me what I need.
I accepted a stiff drink from Rebel-Mae, the funky punk bartender with the glow-in-the-dark pink fauxhawk, forgetting for a moment I was the Grade-A beef in the joint. No sooner than I took my first sip of Jack, women surrounded me, pressing against me, panting all over me.
I couldn’t very well leave the clients out in the cold. I slung an arm around one of them and smiled at another, raising my eyes in a help-me expression across the bar toward Rebel-Mae when something familiar snagged my gaze.
I did a double take. Then a triple look.
Then my legs almost collapsed out from under me. My heart went sluggish. My body felt cold. My gaze stopped on none other than Sadie my-motherfucking-best-friend Grace.
Holeeey Shit.
She stared at me with wide unblinking eyes and pink spots on her cheeks.
Everything got real hot, real fast. I hadn’t been this nekkie in front of my best girl since . . . oh yeah . . . never. I was acutely aware of that fact as Sadie’s eyes coasted painstakingly from the top of my head all the way to my toes like she was taking inventory.
My heart returned to its normal rhythm then it decided to go one better and jackhammer in my chest. I returned Sadie’s stare with the same scrutiny. No wonder I hadn’t picked her out in the crowd. Sitting about five feet away from me, she looked like a complete stranger . . . a very sexy stranger.
Sadie usually wore paint-splattered coveralls, torn jeans, and baggy T-shirts with her thick hair braided down her back. Tonight her hair hung loose and straight as a sunbeam. It reminded me of the beach at Isle of Palms—a mixture of white gold and sun-spun brown, little sparks of red filtered in. Soft and silky and silty.
It wasn’t just the hair that blew me away. Sadie had curves all of a sudden. Where the hell had those come from? The killer dress was the same turquoise blue as her eyes and made her irises stand out all the more. The dress? Oh man, it was silk or something, cinched at her waist with a straight skirt that didn’t go low enough on her thighs as far as I was concerned. And the top? That was no better. The neckline needed to be a lot higher, turtleneck high, come to think of it. As it was, the damn thing hugged what looked like perfectly round tits, a suspicion supported by the fact a tight V of tawny cleavage was very, very visible.
Finally—dear Lord—her long willowy legs ended in inappropriately strappy, high heels. Not her standard, sexy Fox Racing Moto-X boots. This was not the regulation Sadie uniform I was used to. Her outfit definitely affected the blood pounding through my body—loudly in my ears and coursing lower at an alarming rate to my cock. My cock that was barely covered in black mesh. Yeah, it was about to bulk up.
Sadie only glanced away from me when one of her group tapped her on the shoulder. The chicks giggled and whispered, and my worst fears were soon confirmed. It was a bachelorette party. Yep, one of the babes wore a veil and a white sash that read: Bridezilla! Tall glasses littered the table, and out of each one popped every bride-to-be’s favorite party favor: a plastic penis straw. The women were well lubricated, well on their way to Happyville with a trip to Hangover City in the morning.
Sadie didn’t look happy. Not one bit.
I’d thought her discovering my dirty little secret was the worst of it.
I was proven wrong in the next instant when Sadie’s crazed posse pointed at me, chanting, “LAP DANCE! LAP DANCE! LAP DANCE!”
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
But no. It got a million times worse when Bride-fucking-zilla (that shit was no joke apparently) got up, drunk-swayed over to me, and pushed me at Sadie.
“With her!” Bridezilla shouted as I stumbled in Sadie’s direction.
“WHAT?” I caught myself moments before I face-dived between Sadie’s legs, rocked backward, and then quickly moved clear to the other side of the table. Where my ass was immediately pinched.
Bridezilla looked expectantly at me then Sadie.
“What?” Sadie echoed my question.
“Well, you two can’t keep your eyes off each other,” said the blonde wifey-to-be. “Might as well get your hands in on the action too.”
This can't be happening . . .
Jesus fucking Christ.
Yahoo! said my cock.
That thing needed a choke on it.
Older brother/best friend? I felt none of those things all of a sudden, especially when Sadie looked in my direction and slowly wet her lips.
Maybe shock and horror wasn’t quite what she was feeling after all.
I was definitely hot-faced, and no way did I want to give my best friend—my hottie hot best friend—a freakin’ lap dance. Unfortunately the rules were the rules.
“Gotta go change first,” I mumbled.
Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series.
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html
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