Chapter 1

Randi

“No,” I chide pulling my hand back. “Don’t.”

Ice blue eyes look up at me, excitement evident in his inability to sit still longer than a handful of seconds.

I lower my hand, inching it closer to his face, a grin spreading wide when he actually listens. We’ve been at this all morning, both of us growing increasingly frustrated.

“Damn it, Havoc.” I pull my hand back just before he takes the tip of my finger off with his sharp, puppy teeth.

Swallowing the treat whole, he tilts his head in confusion when I don’t offer him another one.

“That’s all I got, buddy.” He barks his distaste, the back half of him wiggling uncontrollably. “More tomorrow.”

My cell phone dings from my bedroom, and Havoc follows me through the condo to check on it. He sniffs my free hand and the waistband of my yoga pants trying to find another treat.

SCP: 2930 Mockingbird Lane. Find Joey.

I grin down at the text. I’ve been waiting all day to get one. I knew there would be several parties around town tonight since school starts on Monday, but I was getting a little anxious as the day went on and I didn’t hear from them.

I spend the next hour getting ready. My makeup is done, and my hair is teased to messy perfection. I’ve slid into lace-topped stockings with a garter belt, knee-high biker boots, and the shortest plaid skirt known to mankind. The all-over ensemble gives me the naughty school girl look that will make all the guys at the party want me. It will also make all the sorority girls hate me, but that's the cost of doing business, I guess.

The address SCP sent me is only a few miles from my place, but that doesn’t stop me from blaring music with the windows down. The late summer heat swirls around me, tangling my hair on the ride over, but it only adds to the wildness the night will bring. The first time SCP sent me to one of these parties, I could barely keep my knees from knocking together. I was terrified, and damn near vomited in the bushes on the way to the front steps. Now, a thrill courses through my blood and a welcomed anxiousness pulls my bright red lips into a smile as I make my way across the front lawn.

The party started long before I got here. SCP insists I get here several hours after the first keg is tapped. It provides optimal viewing and larger crowds. Guys watch me as I add a little extra sway to my hips. Their girlfriends, or flavor of the night, sneer, some even going so far as to hiss insults. I smile big at the guys and even brighter at the girls.

I can feel the music vibrating under my feet as I climb the wooden stairs into the frat house. Chin held high, I walk inside looking for Joey. Heads turn, conversations fade away, and more than a dozen sets of eyes follow my trek across the entryway and into the living room. Some people recognize me. The men lick their lips in anticipation, but the girls groan knowing I’m about to steal away the attention they’ve been fighting for all night. The people inside differ from the ones on the porch. The men, already growing thick in their jeans; the women are still pissed but also intrigued. They know they're going to get fucked hard after the show I put on.

“There’s my star,” Joey says when I’m finally able to get within hearing distance of him. “Party starter?”

“Please,” I yell over the noise. The first party before school starts is always the craziest. Students act as if they’re going off to war, not sitting for a couple of hours in an air-conditioned classroom.

I know the anticipation of tomorrow from being a student myself. This is my first party working for SCP right before the semester begins. I've done three parties, starting with my first in June, right after spring semester was over.

“I have to warn you,” Joey says as he hands over two shot glasses with tequila in them.

I silence him with a glare and toss the first shot back. “I hate when you say shit like that.”

He shrugs and waits for me to down the second shot before speaking again. “He’s brand new. Tonight’s his first gig. You’ll need to show him the ropes.”

“The last new guy could hardly perform,” I complain. “It makes me look bad.”

He takes the empty shot glasses from my hand and places them back on the make-shift bar top.

“You never look bad, Cici.” His compliment is given with an over exaggerated wink.

Cici.

It’s a stage name of sorts, one I both love and hate. It’s a means to an end. An end I’m actually having fun with.

“Where is he?” I ask looking around the room that has only gotten more crowded since I walked in.

“On the couch. Ripped jeans, tattoos, and a baseball cap.” He raises an eyebrow when my smile grows. He knows I’m a sucker for a bad boy. “You have a little competition, though. The girls have been circling him since he got here. There was a little blonde chick on his lap a second ago.”

I frown.

“No catfights,” he warns grabbing my shoulders and turning me in the direction of the sofa.

I can’t see over the sea of people, but I’m used to it. For twenty-one years, I’ve been the smallest girl in every group. Thank fuck retailers are making slutty clothes for pre-teens, or I’d have to have all of my outfits custom made. I’m not slut-shaming by any means. I’d be a hypocrite to ever judge someone for their sexual proclivities, especially with what I’m about to do.

I stop on the edge of the dance floor, borrowing a few seconds before approaching my conquest of the night. Looking bored, the fit guy sitting in the middle of the couch acts like he owns the place. The girl vying for his attention on his left seems too drunk to realize that he’s paying her no mind. With his back flat against the couch, his legs are spread, open and inviting. Massive hands I can’t wait to have on my body, are clasped together in his lap. The way his chin is tucked into his chest, I wonder if he’s actually asleep, but after closer inspection, I can see the faint sway of his head as he keeps rhythm to the beat of the music playing through the speakers.

Sauntering up to him with enough sway in my hips to hypnotize a blind man, I hate that the flat bill of his baseball cap hides his eyes. My fingers tingle with want at the sight of unruly, dark curls at the base of his neck. Tonight is going to be more fun than I’d anticipated.

I position myself between his legs, kicking his black boot when he ignores me. I watch the top of his ball cap as he lifts his head so slow that a wave of cold chills follows his gaze. He starts at my ankles, then the full length of my legs until he pauses where the lace of my stockings meet bare flesh. When his tongue runs the width of his lower lip, I feel it along the seam of my pussy.

This is the fourth party I have worked, but the very first time my soon-to-be partner made my body respond before he physically touched me.

After spending an endless moment on my breasts, he tilts his head up just enough so I can see the bright blue of his mesmerizing eyes. It makes me wonder what proof the tequila was that Joey handed me only minutes ago.

The disinterest he had in the blonde sitting beside him vanishes when a smirk tugs at his lips. I’m lost when a tiny dimple forms on his right cheek. Man, they struck fucking gold with this guy.

Leaning forward, his hands take the same route his eyes did, starting at my ankles and settling on my hips under my skirt. The flex of his fingers urges me forward until I’m straddling his lap. I’m so focused on him, I hardly register the huff of the girl beside us as she gets up grumbling about sluts ruining her good time.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he mutters right before his warm lips meet the exposed flesh of my stomach.

My tits grow heavy, the tips puckering to tight knots and aching to be sucked.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I pant as his tongue toys with the ring in my belly button. “How long have you been waiting for me?”

“My whole life, baby.” As cheesy as his words are, my pulse kicks up another couple of notches.

Turning his hat backward so I don’t get clocked in the face with the bill, I lean down and trace the perfect bow of his lips with the tip of my tongue.

“You’re making me hard,” he confesses against my lips.

Dragging his bottom lip through my teeth and moaning as his wandering fingers trail down the lace of my panties, I almost lose track of what I’m here for.

“Isn’t that the whole point?” I pull at the snaps of my tied tank top, giving him access to my full tits.

“My God.” His attention is right where it should be, his mouth finding the peak of my right breast, engulfing it in suction hard enough his cheeks collapse.

“Show me that ass, baby!” some drunk fucker yells from across the room.

I oblige, lifting my skirt higher so the room can see my barely-there lace panties and the sleek garters that run along the back of my thighs. The tingle rushing over my skin has more to do with the man in front of me than the cool air in the room.

Settling deeper into his lap, I tug his mouth from my chest and angle it so I can capture his lips with mine. The groan that falls from his mouth arrows straight to my core, pounding out a beat of unbearable need. My hands fumble with his belt as he aggressively explores my mouth. When I pop the button loose and begin to lower his zipper, his hands catch mine.

Looking down at him in confusion, I find him staring back up at me.

“Let’s go to my room,” he whispers.

I shake my head. “This happens here.”

Shifting my body, he looks around me. His eyes widen when he notices how many people are standing around enjoying the show.

“Ignore them,” I urge as my hands reach inside his now open jeans.

“Everyone is watch—” A hiss takes over his train of thought when my hand grips tight and strokes his length.

Shifting so I’m hovering above him on my knees, I yank at his jeans and boxers. The slight lift of his hips telling me even though he may be a little gun shy, he’s not stopping this train.

“My wallet’s back in my room. I don’t have a—”

I produce a rubber from the little front pocket of my skirt.

He beams up at me. “Always prepared?”

“Always,” I answer. I don’t bother telling him I have a small packet of lube in the other pocket because dryness is not going to be an issue tonight.

I snap it back when he reaches for it. “I got you.”

Tearing the foil packet with my teeth, I situate it on the tip of his diamond-hard cock and roll it into place.

“Take off your panties.”

“Rip ‘em,” I say.

“You sure?” he asks as his finger traces my wet pussy.

My eyes roll up, but I manage a nod. The snap of the thin fabric is lost in the roar of the crowd. The bite of pain on my hip is a welcome sensation, and I find myself hoping it leaves a mark. I want this man to mark me, show me, if only for tonight, that I’m his to do with as he pleases. God, I've never felt this way during a job before. This man is danger with a capital D.

I want rough and soft, tender and degrading. I want everything that he can give me.

“Fuck me,” I beg, lining the head of his ready cock at my entrance.

The scrape of his teeth on my jaw as I sink onto him transforms into a bite hard enough to make me yelp, another mark for me to caress tomorrow.

“Take that dick,” someone hollers behind me.

He tenses under me, and I’m afraid he’s going to stop what’s happening, or worse go soft and turn this situation into an epic fail moment.

Clasping his cheeks in my hands, I rise up and lower again. His eyelids lower, lips part half an inch, and I know he’s still with me. I moan when he lifts his hips from the sofa and thrusts deeper. Pleasure builds quicker than it ever has before. Even with the group of drunk frat guys cheering us on with lewd comments and commands on what I should be doing, I know this man is going to make me come.

I’m fucking a stranger in front of dozens of party goers, and every one of them is about to hear what I sound like when I orgasm.

My hands find my own tits, fighting his for purchase, and I lean in and bite his neck. I jumped the gun on this because I didn’t even have him take his shirt off. Absently, I wonder what the rest of the tattoos covering his arm look like.

“Pinch them,” I plead as his thumbs scrape over the pebbled flesh.

“Fuck yeah.” The gust of his breath warms my cheek as his hips pump up harder.

“Let me turn around.”

Although I hate to move when he’s fucking me like there’s no tomorrow, I shift my weight and pull off of him. Turning around so the crowd can see everything, I unzip and slide my skirt to the floor. I look around the room without making eye contact with anyone. Pushing his legs together, I straddle them once again and take him to the hilt. Just when I think it can’t get any better, he grips my messy hair in his fist and pulls me back against his chest. I’m too short, and my feet won’t reach the ground, so I pull my legs up, making sure to stay on the toes of my heeled boots and press them against his knees.

Spread open for the world to see, he drives in harder, faster until the room of people becomes hazy white noise, the edges of my vision filled only with the sensations between my thighs.

“Coming,” I hiss as my orgasm takes root in my spine and detonates.

“Give it to me,” he commands, and boy does my body obey.

Slack and flying on euphoric bliss, I don’t realize I’ve been moved until the cool fabric of the sofa is against my back and he’s thrusting into me again. I’m mindful enough to keep my thighs spread, so there’s a clear shot of our connection.

“Goddamn it,” he grunts. “I’m going to come so fucking hard.”

“In my mouth,” I pant.

The pleased grin that turns his lips up manages to pull the same from mine.

“Jesus, you fuck like a porn star,” he hisses as he pulls out of me.

Of course, I do.

I manage a wink in his direction as he rips the condom off, and I hit my knees on the carpet. My tongue snakes out and swipes at the tip as I ready myself to take his cock down my throat, but the first rush of cum hits my mouth before I can. Eyes turned up to his as he strokes through his release, the praise for a job well done is clear on his face. I revel in it. This moment right here is what I live for.

The roar of the crowd pulls me back to the here and now as I swallow.

“Best fucking night ever.”

I have to agree with his sentiment. What a way to ring in the new semester.

He offers me a hand up, and I take it. He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask me something, but one of the guys from the party walks up and slaps him on the back. When he turns to speak to him, I grab my skirt from the floor and shimmy back into it.

The party is getting out of control, so I duck out, heading toward my Range Rover, planning to get with Joey tomorrow.

“You should’ve been fucking me,” a deep voice says as I step off of the porch.

“Maybe next time, baby,” I say putting distance between myself and the insistent man. “Get with Joey, and he can get you on the list.”

Thankfully, a girl in clothes even more revealing than mine runs her hand from his chest down to his cock. “You can fuck me, big boy,” she coos.

With him distracted, I quicken my pace and get the hell out of there.