Chapter 1

Hound

“Best job ever,” I mutter to myself as the topless waitress bring me another glass of whiskey.

Leaning in close, she runs her hand down my arm. “I don’t normally offer private lap dances, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”

I only acknowledge her with a quick wave of my hand and keep my focus on the stage. The best pair of tits and abs tighter than I’ve ever seen on a woman before, I’m mesmerized as the red-headed seductress as she twirls around the pole in the center of the stage.

I toss back half of the whiskey in my glass but never take my eyes from the woman I plan to have before the sun comes up.

The girl I came here to find is nowhere to be seen. I did my job for the night, looking for the whiney kid who’s giving her dad fits by not staying under his command. I searched the front of the house as well as the back of the house where the girls getting ready before taking it all off on the center stage. The blonde girl with bright blue eyes that I tasked with finding and removing is nowhere in the building. Determining that she must be off tonight, I let loose. Having a few drinks and watching the topless entertainment is only a perk of the mission. Of course, it’s not recognizance, infiltration, and extraction, but there are benefits to this type of works as well.

The girls flitting around with bare tits and asses exposed in glittery thongs are nice to look at, but they each pale in comparison to the siren on the stage.

Hips rolling and long red hair following her like a smoky shadow dancing at her command, she’s got the attention of every single man in the room, and I’m not immune to her charm. Hell, if all of my money wasn’t tied up in savings accounts I’d write her a check for the sum of all of them just for the taste of her skin and the tight embrace of her cunt.

My mouth grows dry as I breathe heavily, short panting breaths taken in an attempt to keep my cock from busting through the seam of my suddenly too tight jeans.

Strippers are nothing new. Seventeen years in the Marine Corps traveling the world has led to more adventures with loose women than I can count, but there’s something about this beauty that has me chomping at the bit to get her beneath me. The great thing about underpaid whores is that for the right amount, they’ll let you do just about anything to them. I imagine this one will be no different.

Paying for sex used to make my skin crawl, but bedding a professional woman who will have no expectations when the sun raises gained appeal as I got older. Leaving broken hearts in my wake never appealed to me, and lying to a woman just to fuck her, I’ve decided, is more fucked up than paying for a hole to fuck for the night.

She hits her stride, the deep bass of the song ricocheting off of the walls, and the hoots and hollers become almost unbearable. Enthralled by the sway of her hips, just like every other man in here, I don’t notice when the song ends, and she bends to gather the bills tossed at her feet on the stage.

I move my eyes from the sway of her firm tits to look into her eyes. Soulless, dead almost. She’s definitely not one of the ones who get off on dozens of men fawning over her naked body. I wish I could say I feel sorry for her, that seeing her misery so clear but ignored by every other guy in front of her will make me change my mind, but it doesn’t. We all have demons we have to fight, and she’s no different. Since I have my own shit to deal with and things to prepare for in the near future, I can’t be bothered to concern myself with her issues. What I can do is make her come like a freight train and give her enough cash to make it easier to leave this life if it’s what she chooses.

When her eyes lock with mine, a tingle of anticipation rushes down my spine and straight to my cock. The swipe of her tongue over her full lips as she takes me in is enough to make the tip of my cock thicken and weep for her. I wink, pretending to be as unaffected as I can and mouth ‘soon’ to her. She’s flushed from the exertion of her dance, but it doesn’t stop her cheeks from pinking even more. She gives me a slight nod, acknowledging that our plans for the evening include each other before she stands and exits the stage with enough sway to her hips to keep every man in the building pining for her.

The DJ announces that “Orphan Annie” will be back at the top of the hour, forcing me to look down at my watch. Contemplating if I should find and fuck her now or wait for another show on the stage, I think about her odd choice of stage name. The little, redheaded girl with no family, as the story goes is adopted by a mean woman who is never short of voicing her dislikes even after her husband, Daddy Warbucks comes into the picture.

I huff a small laugh, thinking about the storyline in today’s age and why a woman no older than twenty-five would pick it. Was she abused? Did her Daddy Warbucks take advantage and that was the real reason for the discord with the wife? Is she into older men?

That thought makes me smile considering I’m probably ten years her senior. Attraction to older men would benefit me in the persuasion part of the night. I shake my head. Honestly, it wouldn’t matter. The wad of cash in pocket ensures I’ll be inside of her tonight.

I drain my whiskey and wait for her next performance. Once again as she makes her way on stage, I can’t pull my eyes from the glistening skin of her body. The sweat dripping between her tits, rolling down the tight muscles of her stomach makes my mouth dry no matter how much whiskey I pour down my throat. Bad Girlfriend by Theory of a Deadman blares from the surround sound as she keeps perfect tempo to the beat.

Her eyes find mine, holding them captive. Her emerald eye bewitches me as I consider an attempt to access those savings accounts I thought about earlier in the night. Paid whore or not, I know one night with this temptress will never be enough.

She seems to be the headliner, the one woman who draws the men in, which means, from my past experience, her night is over. She’s closing out the stage with one final dance as the waitress who’s been serving me all night tells me it’s last call.

I decline the offer for a final drink and head to the door before she walks off of the stage. I wait in the shadows near the rear exit listening to the men grumble as they’re escorted out the front and wait for my redheaded beauty to make an appearance.

The wait is so long that I question the interaction between us, question the sincerity I saw in her wide green eyes. She’s the perfect tease, making me think she wants me just as I’m sure she does with every man who walks through the dingy front doors of The Minge Palace.

I’m near giving up, realizing that Orphan Annie is more trouble than she’s worth when the back door opens and a flash of red exits the building before laughing at something someone inside says before closing it again. I step out of the shadows when she’s less than a handful of feet in front of me. I expect her to startle, to clutch at her chest in an attempt to ease her pounding heart, but she shocks me by staring directly at me as if I’m her puppet and waiting in the filthy alley is exactly what she expects. I clench my fists at the idea that she thinks she can have the upper hand.

“I’ve been waiting,” I growl, loving the pink that returns to her cheeks.

“I searched for you out the front,” she whispers closing the distance between the two of us and running her small hands over my heaving chest.

“I figure you’d want the cloak of darkness even though your screams of orgasm will echo down the alleyway.”

“So confident in your ability to please.”

Her hands leave my chest, trail down my chest, and run across my back as she circles me. I’m her prey tonight, and she’s got even more confident in her power than she displayed on the stage earlier tonight. No matter how much I want to fight it, how much I want to prove to her that she’ll be taking my cock as I see fit, I know without a doubt that Orphan Annie is going to use me and have me begging for more.

“Care to make a bet?” I offer as she stands in front of me once again.

Petite yet solid, she looks up at me as I imagine all of the ways I can easily take her.

“No,” she pants, her pupils so big in the moonlight I question the small halo of blue circling them.

Didn’t she have green eyes on the stage?

I don’t give it a second thought when her tiny hand covers but a fraction of my cock over my jeans.

“You want to stand out here making bets?” She gives me a squeeze tight enough to make me groan. “Or do you want to fuck?”

“Brazen little thing aren’t you?”

I drop my hands to my sides as she fumbles with my belt and the zipper on my jeans. The relief is immediate as she pulls the denim back and my cock springs free.

“Mmm.” The tiny noise from her mouth not only makes me jump in her hands but forces me to wonder what that noise being made while she takes me to the back of her throat will feel like.

“Another time,” I hiss.

“What?” she asks confused just as I lift her and turn her with her back against the cold brick wall.

“Enough talk.” The insistent ache in my cock doesn’t leave much room for anything else.

Urging her legs around my hips, I can see the pain the stretch is causing as she tries to get them all the way around me. She doesn’t have a hope of doing it though. I’m twice her size and ready to handle her, to position her any way I see fit.

Her skirt rides high exposing the glistening slit of her pink cunt.

“Dirty whore,” I hiss as my fingers move the wetness up to lubricate the friction of my fingers on her clit. “You came out here prepared to fuck me?”

Her eyes slam shut, a tiny whimper escaping her lips as she rolls her hips against my hand trying to find her pleasure. Without warning, I slip two thick fingers inside of her, watching her face for the response I know she’ll give. Eyes dashing open, hers find mine.

“So fucking tight,” I praise. “If two fingers are all you can take, there’s no hope my cock will fit inside of you.”

Lips parting, she tilts her head to the side. “Give me more,” she begs.

I withdraw and delve back in with three fingers, working them in and out, preparing her as best I can.

“Please,” she whimpers, near the edge, I refuse to let her fall over.

“I’m going to hurt you,” I warn as I pull free from her tight pussy.

“Please,” she repeats.

Against better judgment, I replace my fingers with the head of my cock and slam home.

She screams, half in pain, the other half in pleasure.

“Oh God.”

“Fuck, Annie,” I grunt as I pull back only to slam forward again.

“It’s too much,” she complains but relents when my finger begins to strum over the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

“That’s it,” I urge.

I’m certain her back is going to have abrasions from shoulders to tailbone, but the consideration isn’t something I have to give as she clamps on my cock, the tightest thing I’ve felt since I fucked a virgin in high school. The quick thought of that night, so many years ago, makes me realize my mistake, the same one I made then. However fucked up and consequences be damned, I can’t stop the ache of release already teasing my balls. My head flexes back, my orgasm becoming a living thing under my skin as I pulse inside of her. Bare. No condom.

When I’m done. I release my hold on her and stumble backward. I can’t even look at her, so disappointed in myself for the whiskey I drank that allowed the haze of my senses to make such a monumental mistake. I fumble with my jeans. I get them up and zipped not even concerning myself with my belt.

“You said you’d make me come,” she coos in front of me. “But you came too quickly for me to get mine. Want to go back to your place to finish what you started?”

“No,” I hiss, keeping my eyes down as I shove my hand into my pocket and pull out a wad of cash.

She crosses her arms over her chest when I offer it to her.

“I’m not a whore,” she growls, and it is then that I find her eyes.

“You just fucked me in a filthy alley after dancing for dozens of men on a stripper pole.” I shove the money into her hands. “Believe me, Annie, you’re as close to a whore as it comes.”

“You mother fucker!”

“That,” I say pointing at the cash she reluctantly holds in her hand. “Is for the abortion if my stupid ass put that shit into motion, or for your bus ticket out of this fucking town, because so help me God if I caught something antibiotics won’t get rid of from that filthy snatch of yours I’ll come back and kill you.”

Her eyes narrow in challenge, and it gives me hope that VD isn’t going to be in my future.

I don’t give her a second glance as I make my way out of the alley and stumble back to my shitty hotel room. I try to push her from my mind as I fall on the bed and pass out.

When morning comes, and the incessant chirping of text messages on my phone is frequent enough to drive me mad, she’s still on my mind. I almost feel guilty about the blood on my cock, knowing I was too rough with her. I check each one of my piercing, knowing that one of the barbells must have cut her, but they’re all intact.

I don’t however, feel the regret until I check my messages and see the first one from Blade which was sent a mere two hours after I left Annie in that disgusting alley without concern as to whether or not she’d make it home safely.

Blade: I told you to find Georgia Anderson. Not fuck her like a whore in the alley.

So much for my new life. That redheaded woman from last night just fucked me harder than I fucked her last night.

TBR it

What do you think?

Join my group and let’s talk about it!!

Stalkers

More From Marie James

Marie James Facebook:

Author Group: Stalkers

Twitter:

: author_marie_james

Newsletter SignUp:

Reader Email Share: