CHAPTER ONE
Kitty
“That’s it?” I gasped. “Really, that’s it?”
I didn’t mean to be rude during my first day on the job. But what my boss held in front of me was completely ridiculous. Because Morty had one of those sandwich-sized Ziploc bags gripped in a meaty fist, transparent except for a piece of purple fabric inside.
“Are you sure?” I gasped again, eyes wide. “I- I just can’t … it won’t fit,” I stammered. “That’s an extra small, and I’m not,” I said helplessly, gesturing vaguely at my curvy figure.
Because extra small was generous. The tiny piece of fabric was about two inches by four inches folded up, a nice, neat square inside that plastic baggy. That couldn’t be a dress, no dress looked like that. It was more of a handkerchief, or maybe a band-aid.
But Morty grunted, big pot belly shaking.
“This is it,” he said carelessly. “You can still march yourself home if you don’t want. I got enough girls to cover this week.”
I swallowed thickly, eyeing the tiny Ziploc again.
“Okay, I’ll give it a try then,” I whispered, almost unable to budge. But like in a movie, my hand reached up and I took the bag as if in a trance. “Where should I change?”
“In back,” he grunted, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Guests start arriving in fifteen, so you better be ready. Oh and wear more make-up,” he said disgustedly. “You look like a child.”
That made me flush because I am young. I’m eighteen and about to work my first shift at the hottest club in Vegas, bringing drinks out to customers. I thought it was illegal to handle alcohol before you’re twenty-one, but Morty had glanced at my fake ID for two seconds before nodding, eyes vague.
“You’re hired,” he said in a smooth voice. “Come back tomorrow night.”
I’d nodded, astonished. That was it, really? No questions about my qualifications, how I’d worked at Ice Cream Delight for a year, dishing out mint chocolate chip until I was nauseated? No questions about my focus on customer service, attention to detail, all that good stuff?
But I guess the Hotel Milano is a different place. Somehow this particular outfit isn’t worried about breaking the law because of its CEO. Oh yeah, Gray Channing was a name that even I was familiar with. Handsome as sin, the casino’s owner is an influential guy, the kind who can have lunch with the President one day, and then be out dating models the next. He was always in the papers, blue eyes flashing and a confident smile on his face, always with a gorgeous woman on his arm. Rumor had it that Mr. Channing was a billionaire a couple times over, but that was just rumor.
Besides, it had nothing to do with me. I was working an entry level job for crying out loud, making measly minimum wage bringing drinks to drunk guys at the casino nightclub. So yeah, Mr. Channing was at the top of the pile, while I was at the bottom, blurring into the masses.
But I took a deep breath because none of it mattered. What mattered was that my financial aid for school had come up short unexpectedly, and now it was time to work. So making my way to the back room, I gripped the plastic baggie tightly, praying the outfit would fit.
“Hey honey,” cooed one of the other girls. “Need some help? I’m Loretta, by the way.”
I ducked my head shyly. The redhead was old by club standards, if by old you meant twenty-five. A cigarette dipped from the corner of her mouth although smoking was technically prohibited in the dressing room with all the bright lights and glittery outfits as fire hazards.
“Um no, no thanks,” I mumbled, head down. “I just have to get this on, that’s all.”
Loretta cackled evilly.
“Yeah, the uniform’s not much, but once you stretch it out some, it’ll fit. You’ll see,” she said carelessly, blowing a ring of smoke above her head before breaking into a hacking cough. “You’ll see.”
But I couldn’t see. I couldn’t imagine that I was gonna be able to squeeze myself into this outfit. Because when I pulled the purple fabric out of the bag, things didn’t get more reassuring. The material wasn’t much more than a tube of cloth about eight inches across and five inches long. My cheeks colored and I lowered my head, hair swinging forward to hide my burning cheeks. Oh god, oh god, I was never gonna be able to jam my plush form into this tiny piece of nothing. How the hell did anyone do it?
But the thing is, I had no choice. Getting this job was a stroke of luck, the Milano was the first casino I walked into, its nightclub the first venue I approached. And despite getting paid minimum wage, the tips were supposed to be awesome. What else would you expect from a place where bottle service is five thousand bucks per night? I couldn’t believe that there were actually men who’d pay five thousand dollars for a plate of fruit and a couple bottles of champagne.
But right. The tips. I was here for the tips, and supposedly dressing sexy and acting flirty was gonna get me more. So taking a deep breath, still blocking my face with my hair, I hurried out of my jeans and tee, and stepped into the tube of cloth.
It was every bit as bad as anticipated. The purple stretched over my legs okay, went up over my thighs, but then the butt part was all wrong. Because my ass is huge, the fabric was strained so tight across my rump it was practically see through.
“Girl,” cackled the redhead from her corner, not even pretending to give me my privacy. “You gotta go commando, that thing’s not designed to be worn with panties.”
I colored, craning my head to look in back of me. But she was right because my granny panties were completely visible beneath the material.
“Oh thanks,” I mumbled, face flushing bright red. Oh god, oh god, how did new girls get through this? I had to change and this was going to be so embarrassing, my lady bits bare to the world.
But again, the thought of my financial problems made my chin set. Because tips were supposed to range in the four figures at this club on a good night, and damn, but did I need those four figures. I needed more than that right now, to be honest, tuition is so crazy these days, but anything would make a difference.
So biting my lip again, I looked down at the floor and struggled out of my granny panties, standing there buck naked, a pink flush rising over my creamy form.
Trust Loretta to comment. The redhead cawed again from her corner.
“That’s a lot you got going on there,” she chortled, waving her cigarette in the air.
My face flushed even as I ignored her. Her words brought up bad memories of gym in seventh grade when I’d first started developing. The other girls had been so mean, calling me Kitty the Whale instead of Kitty the Cat. Oh god, humiliation rushed over me again, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. Money, money, money, this was what I was here for, and this wasn’t the time to give up. So squaring my shoulders, I turned back to the dress and yanked it on again.
This time it seemed better. My Double Ds were covered so that they didn’t wobble crazily. And with fast fingers, I pulled the hem down so the dress didn’t bunch right where my pussy was, but it was no use. That just made the cleavage go downwards, in a hopeless tug of war.
Pulling discreetly this way and that, I tried to stretch the fabric as much as possible, pulling up my boobs while pulling down the hem. And finally, the fabric was arranged optimally. Everything was covered, but one wrong move, one bad bend, and bam! Something was gonna pop out.
I turned a watery smile to the redhead.
“This happen to everyone?” I asked shakily. “Does this happen to all the girls?”
“Naw,” retorted the woman, taking another deep drag. “You just got more than most. I’m surprised Morty hired you, management usually likes skinny chicks.”
My cheeks flamed and I stuttered lamely.
“Oh, um, well ….” The words trailed off. Why couldn’t I think of a good comeback? My tongue was tied, cheeks flaming, and I knew I’d be lying in bed later this week, replaying this scene with all sorts of witty retorts running through my head. The thing is that I was never slick in the here and now, mumbling and blushing instead.
But it didn’t matter because the redhead was on her own wavelength.
“Anyways,” she interrupted like she hadn’t just totally insulted me. “Maybe they’re looking to change the vibe around here. You know how the girls stay skinny,” she whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially. “It’s the diet pills and laxatives.”
My mouth dropped open, eyes wide. What? Chemicals? I was so stunned that the words came rushing out like a waterfall.
“The girls don’t eat well and exercise?” I asked, dumbfounded. “They don’t take care of themselves the right way?” So many of the waitresses around here looked like supermodels, I was sure they all had personal trainers and nutritionists.
Loretta cackled again.
“What planet are you from?” she laughed hoarsely, brandishing that cigarette. “You think these girls work out? Working out takes work, honey, these ladies ain’t working out unless there’s money to be made. Please,” she whispered conspiratorially, winking. “Here at the Hotel Milano, it’s all about the cash.”
With that my mouth snapped shut. Because that’s what I was here for too, after all. I was here to make a pretty penny serving drinks to fat cats who’d come to Vegas to spend big dollars. I was here to profit off men who were drunk off their ass, with nothing to recommend them but a bulging wallet. So swallowing, I nodded silently. But curiosity overcame me.
“You sure?” I said in a hushed voice. “I mean, don’t pills make your stomach go loose inside? This job doesn’t really allow for that. We can’t really just go running off to the bathroom all the time.”
Loretta cackled.
“You don’t take the pills right before your shift, dummy. You take ‘em when you get up, at least five hours before coming to the club. That way as your intestines flush, it’s all in the comfort of your home. Queen of the Throne!” she cackled.
My cheeks flared again. Oh my god, this was so embarrassing yet eye-opening at once. So the chicks here were purging their stomachs to stay skinny? Laxatives were the key? Loretta laughed again, confirming my suspicions.
“If you want a box,” she leaned forwards conspiratorially. “I’ve got some of the strongest stuff there is. Better than the OTC shit,” she confided, “it’s from my personal chemist.”
At that, I shuddered. No way would I trust some dude in a mobile home in the desert, concocting green juices in a makeshift lab. That stuff was illegal and probably toxic, you didn’t know what went into homemade drugs. So I shook my head.
“Um, no thanks,” I murmured, smiling weakly. “I’m good.”
“You sure?” Loretta cawed, running her eyes up and down over my frame. “You got some extra poundage there for sure, you’ll make more money if you lose it. Trust me,” she said conspiratorially. “I’ve been working this joint for years now and men like skinny. They like miniature, and honey, you ain’t no miniature. You got junk in the trunk like an XXL hamburger.”
The words hit me like gunshots, making my cheeks flame, but I just put my head down, humiliated.
“I’ll think about it, thanks,” I stammered, stumbling to the door.
And as Loretta’s cackles faded behind me, I paused, taking a deep breath. What the hell had just happened? I’m Kitty Jones, college freshman, with a load of debt and a load of homework. I was here to pay off some of that debt, or at least make a dent in it, and yet the backstage atmosphere of Club Milano had already thrown me for a loop.
Because I’m the girl always in the library, a big nerd with a huge backpack, and my conversation in the dressing room made me feel weird. Drugs? Diet pills? Laxatives? More drugs? And what was with this dress? The purple fabric was ludicrous, outlining my assets obscenely. What the hell was going on?
But it was too late because Morty spied me over from the side and beckoned.
“Looks good,” he grunted, eyeing my form up and down. “Perfect.”
I stammered again, blushing bright red.
“You don’t think that this is … um, a little small?” I asked nervously, tugging at the hem.
“Naw, you’ll do fine,” Morty said carelessly, already looking off into the crowd. “And your party’s here. Booth Two, a bunch of dudes celebrating a bachelor party. Go get ‘em kid. Do your job,” he said, turning and fixing me with a pointed look.
Picking up the tray, I took a deep breath. God, these shoes were so tight, the stilettos making me sway and teeter. But right, money. I was here for the money.
“Hi!” I introduced myself brightly to the guys in the booth. “Hi, I’m Kitt –um, Amber,” I corrected hastily. Oh god, oh god, this was so bad already, I’d almost given away my real name. “What can I get for you? I’m Amber, your server tonight.”
Unfortunately, the guys were already drunk despite the fact it was only nine p.m.
“Um, server?” asked one dude, squinting at me blearily. “I thought we got a club girl.”
“I’m that girl!” I chirped cheerily. “Kitt- I mean, Amber at your service!” Shit, I’d almost done it again.
But his friend threw a heavy arm around my shoulder, alcohol reeking on his breath. Clearly these guys had pre-partied, Club Milano wasn’t their first stop.
“Naw,” the friend leered. “We’re looking for a club girl.”
I smiled again brightly, as cheerful as I could manage.
“That’s me!” I chirped. “Amber at your service!”
This time, a third friend came around, taller and less drunk than the others.
“You staying around? Or you serving a couple tables? That’s what these losers mean by club girls.”
With that, I heaved a sigh of relief. Because finally, I understood what the guys were looking for. Forking over five thousand per night is a lot, and the guys wanted personal service, the kind where one girl is your designated “table girl” if you will, who helps you and only you. So I smiled cheerily again.
“I’m here for you guys only,” I stressed. “You guys are my winners tonight.”
And all three dudes relaxed somewhat, although two were plenty wasted already.
“Should be,” drawled Number One. “I’m losing my freedom.”
“Awww right!” crowed Number Two. “Dude is gonna get hammered tonight!”
I smiled awkwardly, a little off balance.
“I’m here for the drinks boys,” I stated firmly, tucking the silver tray beneath my arm. “I’m here to make sure everyone gets drinks, everyone is served, and no one goes thirsty.”
Friend Three just tossed a heavy arm around my shoulders this time, practically crushing me. Oh god, this had started off wrong already.
“That’s good,” he breathed, pure alcohol blowing hotly onto my face. “That’s good because like my buddies mentioned, Michael here is getting married next week and needs a reminder of what he’s gonna miss.”
I groaned internally. I hated bachelor parties that were like a scene from Girls Gone Wild. I hated dudes who egg on the poor groom to be, urging him to go nuts, to “sow his wild oats” and “enjoy his freedom” before he was “locked down forever.” It made marriage sound like the worst thing on earth, just one step above drinking poison and being stabbed in the gut.
But I get it. Sometimes the party’s more about the friends than the groom himself. It’s the dudes putting out five thousand big ones, the guys who want to make sure that a weekend in Vegas is like a scene from that movie The Hangover. They wanna make sure things get so crazy that hallucinations start, and if one of the hallucinations is Mike Tyson playing the drums? All the better.
So I took a deep breath and smiled determinedly.
“Let me get you some shots,” I beamed. “Be right back!”
And with that I fled to the bar.
“Morty,” I panted, wobbly in my heels. “I can’t, this group is so drunk already and it’s only nine!”
The big man’s paunch turned to me first, face following afterwards.
“Fine go home then,” he grunted shortly. “You’re off payroll.”
But that made me start. I was fired that quick? Wait, what about worker’s rights? What? This was all happening so fast.
So I backtracked as fast as I could.
“No, what I meant is that I need some help,” I begged. “Can I just wear flat shoes, or maybe take off these fake eyelashes?” I asked, plucking at my right eye. “I can barely see,” I mewled pitifully, the long black extensions like heavy spiders on my eyes. “It’s hard to blink.”
Morty didn’t even turn, didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard my words.
“Scram Kitty,” he said disinterestedly. “We got a line-up of girls who want this position.”
And with that, I jumped from the frying pan into the fire.
“Okay, okay,” I panted, voice with a pleading edge that sounded so bad. “Okay, I’ll stay, I’ll stay. It’s just that,” I bit my lip, looking at his impassive face. “It’s nothing,” I added hurriedly. “I’ll stay.”
And with that, I picked up my tray again, now heavy with about twenty shots. Stumbling in my heels, I made my way over to Booth Two.
“Bottoms up!” I chirped cheerfully, hoping I could be heard over the din. “Bottoms up!”
But now, the guys were even drunker. What had happened in the five minutes that I was away? These guys had to have flasks in their jacket pockets, they must have snuck in liquor so that they didn’t have to pay a cent extra.
But what could I do? As the shots were passed around, I smiled guilelessly, cooing and flirting, trying not to let on how much I hated being here, how much I hate loud music and flashing strobe lights. In general, I’m not a Vegas person, it’s just that State happens to be close to the strip, and this is where most kids got jobs. A lot of college kids worked as cashiers or Starbucks baristas, but I happened to be one of the lucky ones who landed a job with big tips.
So I smiled fakely again, bopping slightly to the music, pretending to have a good time.
“Have a wonderful wedding!” I shrieked with forced cheer, doing a little shimmy. “You’ll be a great husband!”
But it was the wrong thing to say because neither the groom-to-be nor his friends wanted to hear it.
“You’re the worst club girl ever,” snarled one, eyes bloodshot. “The worst.”
“Yeah,” chimed his friend. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Can’t you shut up about the fucking wedding for a sec? Can’t you see that dude’s trying to forget his future?”
And of course, the mean comments started.
“She’s fat, guys,” one voice said flatly. “We got a fat one, the club gyped us. We paid five thousand, and I heard you gotta fork over ten to get a skinny waitress.”
That made me go stiff immediately, cheeks flushing with shame. Because I’m not fat, not really. Curvy is a better word, but the thing is, the world saw me as fat. The world saw a big girl, and Loretta’s words rang in my ears again. Diet pills, laxatives, I got all the best stuff if you want it!
My heart curdled with shame, cheeks flaming as I pretended not to hear, busy doling out drinks. Oh god, I just wanted to go home. Twenty minutes into my first night on the job, and all I wanted was to curl up and hide in a corner.
But then Grammy’s words sounded in my head.
Keep your chin up, she commanded sternly. Chin up, shoulders straight, chest out.
No matter that back then, Grammy had been talking about my posture. I’d looked like a wilted asparagus some days, and Grammy is a stickler for girls standing up straight.
But all the same, my mom’s mom is a fighter. Grammy grew up poor during the Depression but never took a cent from anyone. She raised my mom and uncle on her own, doing peoples’ laundry during the day and sewing pieces at night. It was a hard living, and her eyesight’s shot now, hands permanently chapped and red from the stinging detergent. But still, Grammy is a proud woman, and her work ethic and determination to survive were instilled in me from a young age.
So taking a deep breath, tears prickling in my eyes, I straightened my spine. Tilting my chin upwards, I set my jaw into a determined jut, and forced another bright smile onto my face.
“More drinks?” I cooed, pretending I hadn’t heard. “More drinks boys?”
“Yeah,” grunted the bachelor himself. “Pour it on me hard.”
“Fuck yeah,” laughed Friend One harshly. “But it doesn’t taste as good coming from a fat girl.”
Again, my soul almost broke. Their words hurt so bad, like stabs to the heart, and it just got worse.
“Girl looks like a cow,” muttered one.
“More like a hippo,” grunted another
And the one that hurt me the most:
“How much does it cost to switch to a skinny one?”
I fled then, tears stinging my eyes. Oh god, oh god. I’ve always been big. Even before I started developing, I was a chubby child who liked cake. The problem was that I never stopped liking cake and when my curves popped out, it just added to the mess. So yeah, my thighs jiggle and my butt wiggles, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Grabbing my silver tray, I rushed off, brushing away at tears. Stay calm Kitty, my inner voice went. They’re just a bunch of losers, stay calm.
But the thing is I was crying under my breath already, short, mewling gasps escaping my lungs. It sounded terrible and I ran then, but not before bumping into a wall, about as solid and dense as you can get. Drinks went flying, glass broke and immediately I was on my knees, trying to clean it up. Hopefully I wouldn’t slice open a finger picking up glass shards, I had no health insurance, it’d be the emergency room for me.
But it wasn’t a wall I’d bumped into. Because as I crouched hands and knees on the floor, a deep chuckle rang out above me.
“No need,” the voice rumbled. “We’ve got people to do this. No need, pretty girl.”
I sniffled, keeping my head down. This was such a shitty first day and all I wanted to do was to get back in bed and burrow my head under the covers. But only an hour had passed and the night was young. There were still another five hours before my shift ended, and besides, I didn’t want to go back to the table. So I kept trying to pick up the glass shards.
“No it’s fine,” I mumbled, keeping my head down. “I got it, I got it.”
It was so awkward being a big girl on my hands and knees, trying to clean this mess up. But a job is a job, and I needed money. So sniffling, I crawled a little to the right, peering under a table. Got it. A big piece of glass was stuck there, and I gingerly picked it up with my hand.
But the voice came again.
“No need, little girl,” it rumbled. “No need to get on your hands and knees, unless that pretty pussy is flashing.”
I stiffened. How could this asshole talk about my private parts? How rude! I was mad, but kept my head down. A job is a job, I reminded myself again. No need to get mad, just keep going.
But this time, a pair of wingtips appeared in my sightline. Even in the darkness of the club, I could tell they were expensive. Soft, Italian leather, shiny without being gaudy, the kind that only rich guys wore.
So I took a deep breath, preparing to be insulted once more. Rich guys really were the worst, they felt like their money let them say whatever they wanted. I gulped, preparing myself for some nasty words, but instead, I was gripped by my waist and lifted into the air.
The air whooshed from my chest. Holy shit, I’m a big girl and not everyone can lift me up. It takes a lot of muscle, but this guy managed it like it was no problem. I was a feather in his arms, as light as a down pillow and an involuntary sigh escaped from my lungs.
“Oh!” came my cry.
The big man merely chuckled, chest rumbling. God, it felt so good to be pressed close to him, to feel that hard muscle against my boobs. And the strange man liked it too.
“I see you got a nice pair,” he rumbled. “Soft and white like cream.”
Oh my god, why were men always talking about my body? This time, I opened my mouth to yell at him, but the words died on my lips because I got my first good look at the alpha, and he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. Dark, almost black hair hung over one eye, with a straight nose and chiseled jaw. Those eyes were a piercing blue, making me go weak inside.
“Oh um, hi,” I whispered weakly, heart fluttering like a bird.
The man quirked an eyebrow.
“Hi?” he ground out, amused. “One second you were Cinderella on the floor there, picking up glass with your hands. Now it’s ‘hi’ for your savior? Nothing more?”
I stammered.
“Um- um, thank you?”
The alpha tossed his head back and laughed, showing off perfect white teeth. The column of his throat was bronzed, thick and strong. I fought the urge to kiss him there, to run my tongue up and down that perfect line, tasting him. God, what was wrong with me? I’ve never been with a man before, and now I was thinking about seducing this guy? Down Kitty, down girl, my inner voice went.
But the man didn’t give me time to answer because with long steps, he strode across the club floor like he owned it. I caught a glimpse of Morty as we passed and tried to signal, tried to make like this wasn’t my idea, but it was useless. I was caught in this strange man’s arms, unable to move, pinned to that hard chest. Besides, I’d caught a look at Morty’s face, and my boss’s tongue had been hanging out, as surprised as me. Serves him right. He was so mean to his waitresses that now one was being abducted.
But when we exited the dark floor, I began squirming.
“Hey!” I proclaimed. “I have a job! I can’t just take off, I’m gonna be fired!”
The man didn’t even acknowledge me.
“Shh, pretty girl,” he rumbled. “Shhhh, kitty kitty.”
What was that supposed to mean? We went down a dark hallway, turning a corner, all of it deserted and I began to panic.
“Hey, where are you taking me?” I asked, trying to push away from that hard chest. “What’s going on?”
But the big man still ignored me, gripping my curves tight, striding even faster.
“Stop, stop!” I shrieked. “This is crazy!”
Finally we entered an office. Or office is too normal of a word, because the space was huge, with double height ceilings and windows all around.
“What in the world?” I squealed. “Where are we?”
The man dropped me unceremoniously on my feet, and I stumbled for a moment in the stilettos.
“Where are we? I have to get back!” I yelped again, steadying myself against a plush leather couch.
But the man strode to one window, flicking a switch, and suddenly it was obvious where we were. Because the pane went dark for a moment before going light, and suddenly we were looking over Club Milano, people gyrating on the floor, colored lights flashing crazily.
“Where is this?” I whispered, eyes drawn to the crowd. “Where is this place?”
By now, the big man had dropped to sit on a deep blue sofa, folding those long legs.
“My office,” he rumbled deep in his chest, blue eyes amused. “Where else?”
I swallowed thickly.
“Your office? But why? I have to get back, my boss is gonna be pissed.”
Even as the words came out, I caught a glimpse of Morty through the glass. Yep, it was him in that purple velvet suit, but instead of his usual scowl, he looked sweaty, nervous and jittery. I blinked. Maybe it was my imagination. Had to be. Morty’s always been so mean, there was no way he was nervous.
But the man in the couch chuckled again deeply.
“Mortimer? Naw, loser’s not pissed, trust me.”
I whirled to face him.
“How do you know? I just got this job,” I choked. “I really need it, and I’m gonna be fired now.”
The dark man looked at me wryly.
“I know because Morty works for me,” he tossed out casually. “Grayson Channing at your service.”
And suddenly I realized why those blue eyes looked so familiar, why there was an aura of command around him. Because this was the owner of the Milano, Mr. Channing himself. I’d seen that mug in dozens of magazines, always with a pretty girl hanging off his arm, if not two or three. I was here with the most powerful man on the Strip, and my body went weak, mind hazy.
“Um, Mr. Channing,” I mumbled. “Why am I here? I’m a good employee, I swear,” I began. “I swear, tonight’s my first night but I’m usually much better. I don’t know why I spilled those drinks, I’m sorry I ruined your carpet …” the words came babbling out.
But the big man wasn’t interested.
“Naw, it’s not that,” he rumbled. “You’re here for a reason.”
I gulped.
“Do you need a drink?” I said quickly. “I’m happy to serve you. Here, let me just find the bar,” I spun around, looking for a liquor cabinet.
But the big man rumbled deep in his throat.
“Naw, I brought you here for another reason. The Milano’s filled with pretty girls, but you’re the prettiest,” he tossed off casually. “And I want to see a private show.”
My breath stopped in my chest.
“What do you mean, a private show?”
He shrugged.
“I wanna see you work it a little, you know, dance.”
Okay that was too much. He might be the owner of this casino, he might be an alpha billionaire, but you can’t just force girls to do what you want.
“I’m a waitress,” I stammered, cheeks flushing hotly. “I’m a waitress at your hotel, not a stripper.”
Mr. Channing merely looked at me amused.
“What was your name again?” he drawled.
I swallowed thickly.
“Kitty- Katherine,” I muttered. God, even though I’d just been propositioned rudely, for some reason, instead of being offended, I was titillated. Deep inside somewhere, I wanted to dance for him, I wanted to be someone else for a change, letting my hair down and going wild. I wanted the alpha male to look at me and devour my curves.
And like he could read my mind, the billionaire grinned wolfishly.
“Well, if you want to keep your job, then you’re gonna dance,” he tossed off casually, like it was no big deal. “You can do it.”
I shook my head slowly.
“But I don’t know how,” I whispered, eyes pleading. “Please don’t make me do this.”
The gleam in his eyes deepened.
“You wanna keep your job?” he asked.
I nodded silently. Oh god, was he going to fire me unless I obeyed? Oh god, oh god.
“You wanna make good money?” he asked again.
I nodded, brown curls bobbling up and down. Yes, I needed the money, I needed this job so that I could stay in school.
“Please Mr. Channing, please,” I whispered. “Don’t fire me.”
The man grinned again, this time his hand reaching down. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bulge in his pants, that big, fat tent. Oh shit, he was huge. Even in the dim light, I could see a ridge, a thick hose that wrapped around his waist, and my mouth went dry.
Seeing my gaze, the big man chuckled deeply, this time a hoarse rasp. And he grinned again, pulling something out from his pocket.
“How much do you need?” he asked casually, opening the money clip.
I gasped. There were so many bills that I could hardly believe my eyes. The roll of cash was as fat as my fist, making my heart race. I could live off that money for six months minimum, if not a year. But there was no sense in giving it all away, so I pretended to be cool.
“I’m sorry?” I murmured. “I’m sorry?”
The alpha shot me another glance.
“Like I said, Katherine, how much do you need?”
My eyes met those blue ones from across the way. Because holy cow, this was beyond my wildest dreams. A rich man was offering to pay me to dance, offering to give me cash if I shimmied in front of him. But the thing was, could I do it? My choices ran before my eyes.
On the one hand, I could refuse. I could say again that I was a cocktail waitress, hired only to serve drinks. For sure, I’d be booted back downstairs and fired immediately.
On the other, I could say yes. I could prance a little, wiggle my ass and then this gorgeous man would pay me. And after it was all over, I could go downstairs and keep my job, complete with big tips.
The choice was clear. Actually, it wasn’t even a choice. If I wanted to stay in school, if I wanted to keep going to college, I was going to have to dance. Tuition was due next week, the fifteen thousand dollar statement taunting me from the top of my dresser.
So I took a deep breath.
“How much are you offering?”
The big man smiled wolfishly then.
“How much do you need?”
I decided to go for it.
“More than what you got there,” I purred. “Lots more.”
His eyebrows rose, amused.
“Try me,” he growled. “I’m a rich man.”
I took another deep breath.
“Fifteen thousand. I need fifteen thousand to dance, otherwise it’s not worth my time.”
As soon as the words came out, I regretted them. The truth was that I’d dance for a lot less, maybe two hundred, three hundred bucks. Even one hundred was a lot to me, I could buy books, maybe pay my electricity bill which was currently four months late.
But Mr. Channing didn’t hesitate. He flicked open the money clip and began counting, shuffling the cash until fifteen green ones were lined up on the table.
“There you go,” he rumbled. “Fifteen g’s, isn’t that what you wanted?”
My eyes almost shot out of my head. Oh my god. Those weren’t twenties, they weren’t even one hundred dollar bills. They were thousand dollar bills, and now there were fifteen of them lined up on the glass table, beckoning to me, almost calling my name. Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, the money chanted. You need us.
Taking a deep breath, I met Mr. Channing’s eyes.
“You promise?” I breathed. “You promise those are mine if I dance for you?”
He nodded nonchalantly.
“It’s all yours. Make this big boy happy and it’s all yours.”
Suddenly, I realized what he meant by dance. Everything clicked into place like puzzle pieces fitting together. Because sure, Grayson wanted me to gyrate around this space, to shimmy and wiggle. But no man pays fifteen thousand to see a curvy girl prance around. The money was to get him hot and bothered, to make him aroused until he spurted.
I swallowed thickly, meeting those blue eyes. But there was no mercy, the alpha knew what he wanted and stared right back, capturing my gaze.
“The choice is yours,” he rumbled.
I flushed again, boobs vibrating. Because again, there were no options. With so much money on the table, I could buy my freedom for a semester, pay my tuition in full, but god knows what would happen after that.
A thrill ran through my soul, making me start. Because deep inside, I wanted to, I wanted to let go and experiment. Despite his reputation as an asshole who fucked women over, Grayson Channing was as good-looking as sin. That big body was huge, looming and muscled, perfectly symmetrical. As I watched, his nostrils flared slightly and suddenly I realized that he was attracted to me too. Sure, he wasn’t busting out yet, that cock was still in his pants, but this alpha was drawn to me on a much more basic level. He liked my curves, they were sassy and sexy to him, and that’s what pushed me over the edge. All my doubts evaporated because I wanted to feel sexy and desirable. I wanted to dance, and the money was just a cherry on top.
So I took a deep breath.
“I’ll do it,” I murmured, boobs rising and falling softly. “But don’t you want some music?”
He shook his head.
“Naw, I’m sure you have the music inside of you. Or just dance to the music from the club,” he rumbled.
That was true, I could hear the thump of the drumbeat through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Okay,” I nodded. “But can’t those folks see me below? Should I pull the curtains or something?”
Grayson smiled wolfishly. He flicked his wrist, and suddenly the windows went dark, leaving just the two of us in the privacy of the room.
“They couldn’t see you to begin with,” he rasped. “These are one-way glass windows. But you better start baby girl, because I’m not waiting.”
I was stock still for a moment. That deep voice was commanding, making me tremble, making me melt at the very sound. And slowly swaying my hips, our eye contact electric, I began to dance.
Oh god, this was so wrong. I’m usually a wallflower, the girl leftover in the corner, drinking punch by herself. So I’m not at good at moving to the music, it’s not like I have a ton of practice or know what I’m doing.
But somehow with Grayson, it didn’t matter. Somehow all that mattered was that this man’s eyes were on me, that he found me desirable, and that we’d entered into a transaction that titillated. I wanted to be sexy, I wanted him to want me, and slowly, I moaned.
“Mmmm,” came the soft mewl. “Mmm.”
The alpha’s blue eyes were glued to my curves.
“Keep going,” he growled. “Keep going, baby girl.”
I shimmed to the left, then went to the right, twirling my hips sensuously. Was this the way to do it? A momentary shaft of panic coursed through my body. Maybe he didn’t like it, maybe I really was the fat girl acting like a clown. Maybe I was going to be humiliated later on, same as always.
But the big man merely looked at me hungrily, devouring my curves with those eyes.
“Keep going,” he rumbled. “Keep going.”
And my courage surged back then, flooding me with confidence. Oh yeah, the alpha wanted it. This billionaire, who could get any woman he wanted, was currently in the room with me, male body rock hard with anticipation.
I smiled at him sweetly.
“Good,” I murmured. “Because you’re gonna get it big boy.”
And with that, I let my internal rhythm take over. Closing my eyes, I began swaying, working my shoulders, taking small steps. Slowly, I ran my hands up and down over my body sensuously, cupping my breasts, stroking my hips.
“Mmm,” I purred. “Mmmm.”
But I wasn’t done yet. My palms rose until they squeezed my tits, those huge pendulous Double Ds, and I stroked the flesh sensuously.
“Daddy want to see?” I purred again. “Daddy want?”
The answer was instantaneous.
“Fuck yeah,” Grayson rumbled. “Fuck yeah, give me a look.”
Giggling a little, I pulled down on my décolletage, letting my right boob spill out. Holy shit, was I really doing this? Was I really taking off my clothes in front of a man, dancing seductively for him? Was I really here with Grayson Channing, King of the Strip, baring my boobies for him to see?
But the answer was a resounding yes. Because I wanted it. The way his eyes were glued to my tits felt good, the way his mouth literally dropped open with hunger. My pink crest was hard, stiff and aching, and I plucked at it teasingly.
“Daddy like?” I cooed. “Daddy like?”
The big man’s only answer was to swallow thickly.
“Fuck,” came his grunt. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
I squeezed and massaged my breast even more, leaning forward so it dangled appetizingly.
“Oh look,” I giggled once more. “My tit’s moving in time to the music.”
And it was true. My big boobs were swinging to the left, and then to the right, like they could hear the sensuous samba playing outside.
But I wasn’t done yet because with a quick flick of my wrist, I popped my other breast out, this time both gazongas hanging pendulously.
“Mmm,” I purred. “Look Daddy, look how stiff I am for you.”
And rolling my nipples between my fingers, I demonstrated, corkscrewing off the tips with audible pops.
“Oooh! So hard, just for you.”
By now, Grayson had his dick out. Oh yeah, he’d pulled his stiffie free and it waved in the air, beckoning to me. I danced over, pausing before him while taking a deep breath, eyes wide. Because holy smokes, that pole was huge. I’ve only seen male cock on my laptop screen, but Grayson had a rod that was like a porn star. Ten inches with the tip glistening wet, it quivered in the air, pointing straight at me.
“Daddy,” I murmured. “Is that really …?”
“It is,” he rasped. “It’s all for kitten.”
I cooed again.
“But I’m not sure,” I whispered. “This is just supposed to be dancing.”
He muttered thickly.
“You’ll be dancing,” he replied. “Dancing on my dick that is.”
And with that, all my defenses caved. Because yeah, I was acting like a ho. I was getting paid to have sex with this man, this incredibly attractive, powerful man, and it should have left me cold. It should have left me shuddering in my shoes, trading my pussy for cash.
But instead, I wanted it. I’m a wallflower, a curvy girl who’s a virgin still, and I wanted to feel his pole deep inside, to have it breach my innermost parts. I wanted to feel a man in me solid and hard, owning my female form. So taking a deep breath, I met his eyes again.
“Are you sure, big boy?” I murmured. “Maybe I’m more than you can handle.”
“Oh fuck yeah, I’m sure,” he ground out, eyes glued to my curves, that fuckrod literally shaking with lust, desperate to be in me. “Fuck yeah.”
And with that, he grabbed my curvy form, pulling my ass onto his lap. Relaxing for a moment, I sighed because it felt so good to be there. Grayson is at least twice my size, and sitting on his lap made me feel positively tiny by comparison. I cooed for a moment, leaning against the hard wall of his chest, those strong arms holding me close.
“Oh,” came my tiny murmur. “Oh.”
But this was an aroused male, hard, hot and hungry, and there was no way to deny the hard flesh that pressed into my butt from behind. Was that huge iron rod really his dick? Oh yeah, it had to be. So I wiggled a little, cooing again.
“What next Daddy? What comes next?”
Grayson didn’t answer. Instead, a big hand trailed down my thigh, sampling the creamy flesh there.
“Shit, this is exactly how I like it,” he rasped. “There’s so much of you, it’s fucking beautiful.”
And heat coursed through my veins. Because yeah, my legs are thick and heavy, and this was the first time I’d heard a man compliment them. It only made my pussy moisten, practically dripping now. I mewled again, leaning back.
“Here Daddy,” I whispered. “Touch me here.”
And like a slut, I took that big hand in mine, guiding his hand so that it traced my knee. Oh yeah, one inch, then two inches, he came closer and closer to my pussy until the steam hit his hand, cunt emanating hot wetness.
“Mmmm,” I moaned, throwing my head back so that it lolled on his broad shoulder. “Mmmm.”
But Grayson didn’t need guidance now. Slowly, that big hand moved upwards on its own until with the lightest of touches, he grazed my sweetly steaming folds.
“Aw fuck baby, you’re fucking drenched,” he grunted. “You’re fucking sopping.”
I mewled again, writhing sensuously in his lap.
“You make me that way,” I purred. “It’s all you.”
And with that, Grayson was on it. His hand lightly traced my nether lips, tantalizing me, sampling the soft, puffy flesh and I cried out, delighted.
“Oh yes Daddy! There, there!”
The alpha growled below me.
“Oh there’s more, baby girl, there’s more.”
With big fingers, he reached down and pulled my pussy lips apart. The billionaire didn’t do more for a second, just looking down my body at that wet cunt. I admit, it was an amazing sight. My legs were spread, one knee hooked over each of his, dress bunched up to my waist. But even more, the hotel magnate had spread my pink pussy to the max. Each labia was pulled wide, my insides bared, glistening wetly.
“Fuck you’re beautiful,” came his voice deep in my ear. “Absolutely delectable.”
I mewled again, squirming.
“Then touch it Daddy,” I breathed. “Touch it.”
And Grayson helped himself to the feast. One big finger traced down my labia, playing with my hole before tracing back up the other side, sampling my goodness. He dipped once more to the bottom of my slit, catching the juices there before lifting his fingers. And sure enough, those big digits digits dripped with creamy fluid, proof of my arousal.
“Fuck you really want it, don’t you?” he ground out. “You really want it. You’re such a slut.”
I was helpless now. I’ve never been in close quarters with a man, much less letting a man touch my private parts. My pussy sizzled hotly, making me writhe and mewl. Holy shit, this was amazing, no one had ever told me making love could be like this. Spreadeagle in a man’s lap, letting him stroke my folds? Yes, please, I was a slut and more.
But Grayson wasn’t done yet. Because the man knows how to work a female body and slowly, one hand began teasing my nub. My clit can get huge when I’m aroused, and now was no exception. Two inches long, it stood up straight, waving, practically begging Grayson to play.
“Mmm, my dirty baby likes having her cunt stroked, doesn’t she?” he growled deep in my ear. “Dirty whores have dirty cunts.”
The words made me shiver deliciously.
“Yes Daddy,” I panted. “Yes, yes, I’m Daddy’s dirty whore.”
The big man shifted beneath me, that arousal still poking my ass. But he wasn’t done yet. Pinching my nub, he made me squeal before settling into a deep, sensuous rub.
“Mmm,” he began again. “Baby likes getting her clit rubbed, doesn’t she? Baby’s a whore who likes getting her slutty cunt rubbed.”
I could only agree, it felt so good.
“Oh yes,” I panted, boobies heaving, letting him touch wherever, my pussy now gushing juices coating his palm. “Oh yes, Daddy, please rub my cunt. Fuck it, Daddy, fuck it please.”
And my wish was his command. Because slowly, he pulled my torso upwards until that big shaft popped out from between my thighs.
“Oh my god!” I squealed. “Oh my god!”
It was obscene. Sitting in Grayson’s lap, I faced forwards with my legs spread, the man angled below me so that his cock popped out from between my thighs. The fit was so snug that the base of my pussy literally pressed against that hard shaft, juices dripping onto his rod.
“Oh!” I cried out again. Oh my god, my pussy lips split so that they hugged his shaft on each side, it was so wrong.
But Grayson doesn’t take no for an answer because he merely chuckled in my ear.
“That’s right,” he rasped. “It’s a dirty camel toe, your pussy’s creaming all over my dick length-wise. And guess what sweet thing? All ten inches is going into your tightness.”
I juiced again, the cream running from my hole in a gush. Because this was so wrong. I was getting paid to have sex, and not only that, but it was actually my first time. But I wanted it, and wriggling a bit, I humped my hips desperately, making him chuckle again.
“Yes Daddy,” I panted. “Yes, put it in.”
Grayson went for it then. Reaching down, he angled his cock so that the tip just kissed my hole.
“Sit down baby girl,” he commanded roughly. “Sit down on Daddy’s dick, let that little cunt get fucked.”
I mewled. This was gonna be hard for sure. This was a porn star pose, for advanced sexperts. But I couldn’t let on that I was a newbie because he’d stop and this fantasy would be over. So I lifted my hips, spreading my legs even wider, and pressed experimentally down on that hard cock. Ooooh, it felt good, my lips parting slightly to spread wetly over the tip.
“Like this Daddy?” I panted. “Like this?”
“Exactly like that,” he growled. “Now just hold it right there and I’m gonna …”
But Grayson’s voice broke off because his dick slipped in a few inches then and oh shit, it felt good. His cocktip split my pussy and I cried out, throwing my head back, eyes falling closed.
“Ohhh!” I squealed. “Ohhh!”
Because it felt amazing. Stretched wide, I gushed again, wetting the ride.
“Oh yes Daddy!” I cried out again, holding perfectly still with his dick halfway embedded inside. “Oh yes!”
This time, Grayson didn’t hesitate. He began feeding his cock into my cunt steadily, edging the pole upwards slowly, squeezing into that tight space. I bucked a little, unable to help myself.
“Unnnh,” I moaned, eyes closed, head lolling back and forth. Oh god, I was being fucked for the first time and it felt so good. Oh god, oh god.
But Grayson is a pro, he knows how to stretch a pussy, so slowly, he angled his hips upwards again, pressing into my sensitive spot.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he ground out. “So fucking small.”
I mewled wordlessly, everything on fire, unable to concentrate on anything but that huge snake making its way inside. How did women do this? The fullness was unbearable, like I was being crammed to the max, no space for air. Taking deep breaths, I willed myself to open more, to embrace his cock.
And the big man sensed my struggle.
“Calm, little girl,” he soothed. “Relax and it’ll go in easier. Your pussy is so fucking tight, but it’s fantas..... unnnh,” he grunted mid-sentence in surprise.
Because the unthinkable had happened. Grayson’s glans had just pushed against my secret, the barrier to my virginity. Yeah, here I was seated in a strange man’s lap, buried on his dick, and unfortunately, he’d just found out that it was my first time.
“What the fuck?” he grunted, panting heavily behind me. “What the fuck Kitty?”
It hardly seemed the time for a conversation, so I begged.
“Please,” I gasped. “Please don’t stop, Grayson, it feels so good.”
That cock twitched in me, spurting a little, and I moaned again, wriggling my hips, trying to get him in deeper. This was the man I wanted and if he stopped I would die.
But Grayson’s arms were like steel bands around my waist, holding me still.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” he rasped into my ear. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”
“Because you wouldn’t want me!” I cried out, almost sobbing now in a combination of ecstasy and desperation. Oh god, if the man didn’t keep going, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. I needed that dick, I needed him hard, hot and heavy inside, only him. So I tried again, humping my hips, trying to get him further inside.
“Please Grayson,” I begged. “Please, please, ahhhh!”
And he gave in. The billionaire answered my wishes and with one swift thrust, that cock burst through my hymen, the little piece of tissue gone forever.
“Unnnh!” I cried out. “Ohhhh!”
It was unbelievable in every way. My pussy was on fire, his shaft so big and thick, owning my very soul. Squirming like a pig on a stick, I mewled again, slutty cunt so fucked.
But Grayson’s a pro with women. His big hands caressed my thighs, deep voice murmuring in my ear.
“Still,” he soothed. “Hold still and it gets better I promise.”
I squirmed again.
“Unnh!”
But the big man wouldn’t let up. His cock was stuck deep inside, and he wasn’t pulling out.
“Relax,” he growled again, hands moving sensuously up to my waist this time. “Relax, relax.”
And slowly, my pussy stopped burning. It was still uncomfortable down there, still so tight, but a different type of tingling started up, hot and sensuous.
“Mmmm,” I moaned again. “Mmm,” I murmured, rocking my hips.
“That’s it,” he rasped. “That’s it, go with it, baby, go with it.”
The billionaire held still as I moved a bit, letting that cock stir my insides. Shit, it was unbelievable, a man deep within, giving me an internal massage. It still hurt a little, for sure, but that was dissipating with every second.
And like he could read my mind, the big man rasped in my ear, “I’m gonna fuck you now.”
With that, the alpha pulled back and then pushed deep, making me squeal.
“Unnh!” I cried out, hips rolling, head falling back. “Unnnh!”
“That’s right, baby girl,” he panted, pulling out again this time before pushing back in. “That’s right, ride Daddy’s cock, ride it slow, take your time.”
And slowly we began moving in unison, our bodies rolling as his dick went in, and then out. I moaned lustily as the pressure increased, his fuckpole picking up tempo. Oh god, why hadn’t anyone ever told me it felt so good? I figured the screams in porn were fake, the agonized expressions were just acting. But this was different. This was the real thing and oh my god, but it was beyond my wildest dreams.
Gray didn’t let up either, his big body owning me, commanding me, drilling me hard. Within minutes, we were going at it non-stop, the pounding heavy and sensuous, my pussy sucking him in deep with each stroke.
“Aw fuck I knew you were slutty,” he ground out into my ear, arms holding me tight as his hips jerked up and down, drilling me again and again. “That slutty cunt’s got dog.”
What the hell was “dog”? I couldn’t ask at the moment because every ounce of my body was focused on where we were joined, his hot pole sliding in and out, my soft flesh quivering and tight. It was so dirty and nasty, the way he drilled me from below, and I gave in like an inexperienced virgin then. Crying out with release, my pussy spasmed once, twice, hard, clamping down like a vise.
“Ahhh!” came my scream. “Ohhhh Gray!”
“Fuck!” the billionaire roared, dick jerking in me. And unbelievably, hot juices began pouring out, filling my vag to the brim. Oh god, there was a man coming in me, a huge, powerful alpha releasing within my precious inner chamber, pumping me full of sperm. His dick jerked again and again, the veins pulsing and I screamed my own ecstasy as hot white sprayed all over my interior canal.
“FUCK!” Grayson roared again, jaw clenched and eyes shut as he held me tight, pole pulsing into my tiny channel. “Fuck!”
And at that very moment, the door snicked open, a woman’s voice interrupting
“Gray,” came the dulcet tones. My eyes grew round. Holy smokes, this was unreal, and I could only imagine what she saw. Me, totally nude breasts bouncing, legs spread while impaled on a huge man’s dick as he pumped me full of baby batter. And the worst part was that my pussy was still milking him, clenching and unclenching on that hard pole, draining him of every last drop.
And Grayson was taken by surprise too. His arms clenched around my torso, partly in surprise but partly in ecstasy. Oh yeah, the billionaire had lost it, his hot cock buried inside and there was no way to keep the sperm from flying.
But Mr. Channing works fast. Because as I began to squirm, trying to get off his lap, those strong arms held me tight. I couldn’t move one inch, legs wide open as he continued to pump inside for the woman to see. It must have been so disgusting, that massive pole buried deep in my wet folds, juices dripping everywhere.
But it got worse because Grayson spoke then.
“Ma,” the big man rasped in back of me. “Meet my new fiancée, Kitty.”