Reveal (A Wild Nights Novel) (14 page)

I smiled and dropped my hands to my sides, a little shocked by the instant welcome, not to mention that entering a shop looking as if you were holding a gun—even a fake finger-gun—was a very bad idea.

“G’day,” I replied. 

“Can I help you with anything?”

Yeah, I need a BOB to end all BOBs. A BOBgantic. A BOBasaurus. A BOBidable Snowma—actually no. That one sounds too cold.

“No thanks. Just browsing.”

“No worries. Just yell out if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

I chose an aisle not too far from the door and waited for the others to enter the store, dipping my head to look at the products before me.

Butt plugs.

Excellent! I could do with a new one.
Oooh! That one’s pretty. It looks like a glass teardrop.
I took it off the rack for a better look, but then another one caught my eye.
Ooooh! That one is glittery. I like glitter.
I swapped the teardrop for the blue glittery one, smiling when I held it up and it sparkled. That was also when I noticed Cori and Josh in my periphery vision, four aisles away. She was facing me with her back to Josh, pretending to legitimately peruse the products in front of her.

Wanting to get closer so that I could hear their conversation, I walked slowly to the next aisle, noticing another range of butt plugs.

Novelty butt plugs. Awesome! 

Oh my God! Is that a fluffy tail?
Picking up my pace, I stepped up to the tail and ran my hand over it.
Ooooh!
It was soft.
Very
soft. And it felt nice
. Really
nice.
I couldn’t help myself and continued to stroke it while concentrating on what Josh and Cori were saying.

“Honestly, it did nothing for me.” Her tone was uninterested.

Josh took a bite of his apple. “You’re lying, sweetheart.”

“Nope.” She shrugged. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. You’d prefer me to be eating you instead of this apple.”

A slow smile crept across her face, but she quickly removed it before he noticed. “Nah. Too messy.”

Josh stepped up behind her, pressed his chest to her back and wrapped one arm around her shoulder, holding her tightly to him. I quickly looked down, thinking he was about to spot me perving on them, which would ruin my applelingus demonstration. I didn’t want that to happen. I needed to see applelingus.

Glancing up just slightly, I found that neither of them were focussed on me. Instead, Cori read the packet of what looked like nipple tassels, and Josh rotated the apple in his hand, as if studying what part to bite next. A look of lascivious hunger flooded his eyes, and he licked the apple, slowly—one big, long delicious swipe from core-tip to core-tip.
Holy shit! That was kinda hot.
He then performed the same thing again, this time lathing from her shoulder to that sensitive spot right below the ear.
Yep. That was kinda hot, too.
A tingle danced across the skin of my neck, and I had to gently massage the spot to make it go away.
Be gone, tingle.

Cori’s eyes had closed at some point during Josh’s oral tease, and I’m guessing it wasn’t due to her being sleepy. Although, I had absolutely no idea what time she’d come back to our room last night. It was after I’d fallen asleep, and that was gone two a.m.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open again and instantly found mine.

She bit her lip.

I raised my eyebrow.

She nodded minutely.

I smiled.
Applelingus. I get it now.

“That the best you can do?” she asked in a provocative sing-song voice.

He nipped her shoulder. “You know it’s not.”

“Do I?”

Josh growled and took his frustration out on the innocent fruit in his hand, and I would normally feel sorry for a victim of such ferocity, but not that one. Uh-uh. The repetitive tongue flicks, swipes, swirls and sucking that he was performing deserved no sympathy whatsoever. None at all. Zip. Zilch.
Wow!

My vagina sang like Cori’s, wanting nothing more than to be a Granny Smith apple. It wanted to roll across the floor and land at Josh’s feet with the hope he’d be hungry enough to eat it, too. Because wow! Just wow.
Bad vagina.

“You got a thing for foxes?”

Whaaaa?

I turned toward the voice that had snapped me out of my applelingus eye-show, finding Brad wearing an enormous shit-eating grin, the crinkle near his eye bigger than I’d ever seen it—it stunned me even more.

“What?”

He nodded toward my hand. “My cock is jealous of the stroking action you’re giving that fox’s tail.”

Glancing down at my hand, I realised I’d been subconsciously giving the foxtail butt plug a descent hand job. “Oh. It’s soft. I like soft things,” I explained, looking back up.

He stepped toward me. “I cover myself in baby oil every day. I’m the softest fucking thing you’ll ever touch.”

My jaw fell open, but I quickly brought it back up again.
Of course he does. He’d be softer than me. Softer than a baby’s bum. Nothing but softness.

Collecting the foxtail from the rack, I stepped closer to him and trailed it across his face. “You think you’re softer than that?”

“Did you just wipe my face with a butt plug?” His tone was flat, monotonous … devoid of humour.

Mine wasn’t.

“Yes,” I said bursting into laughter. “I did.”

Brad threaded his arm around my back, splayed his hand across my arse, and pulled me flush to him. I hit his hard, strong chest with a light thud, and although the contact was gentle, the force still stole the air from my lungs.

Blinking perhaps a little too much, and not being able to take in another breath because the freckle on his nose distracted me and prevented me from doing anything else, I became lost in his embrace. He had such a sweet disposition, sweet yet infused with dominant desire and an outright sexiness that radiated off every pore dotting his skin’s surface. It penetrated me and coursed through my body every time I was in his presence, overpowering my senses and wielding its control. I’d never experienced anything like it.

Brad’s fingers twitched slightly, one slowly creeping to the crevice of my arse and pushing against my opening. I was wearing a light summer dress, so the material was thin—his finger was heavy. I automatically contracted my muscles and drew away from the delightful pressure, which propelled my body harder against his.
Whoa!

His erection caressed my belly. Full, solid … its presence was unmistakable. I couldn’t help but to rub against it just slightly. I mean …  it was there, right in front of me, on me … taunting me.

Brad’s finger found my arse again, and he pushed,
again
. I sucked in a sharp, surprised breath, uncontrollably elevating to my tiptoes while letting it out slowly with a shallow sigh against his lips. Our eyes locked, my mouth open, his … opening.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice low, gruff, and laced with filthy desire.

My answer was but a whisper. “Yes.”

He groaned and pushed a little harder, and this time I didn’t shy away from the intrusion—I met it … and welcomed it. “I do. Very much so.”

“What the fuck is this? An anchor?” Noah blurted out from the aisle behind us, bursting Brad’s and my bubble of finger-pushed-on-butt-hole fun.

With our eyes still locked on one another’s, I lowered from my tiptoes, stepping away just a little to create some much-needed distance. Our bodies were rigid, yet there was a sense of calm floating in the space between us, a sense of acceptance that we both knew what the other wanted.

Slowly turning his head in his brother’s direction, Brad hissed through his gritted teeth, “What the fuck does it look like?”

“An anchor,” Noah replied, holding it up to face us.

I couldn’t help but giggle. That was exactly what it looked like.

“And this one looks like a doorknob.” Noah put the anchor down and picked up a large, round, ball-shaped plug. “Hey, Dimps, found your birthday present.”

He walked off in the direction of Dimps and Chief, who were both in the role-play/costume section, Dimps holding up what looked like a pair of police officer’s spandex short-shorts and hat, and Chief not looking impressed.

“Does Dimps play the role of bad-boy police-guy in the show?” I asked.

Brad shook his head and stepped toward me, swallowing the distance I’d created, his eyes still flaring mischief. “No. He’s the builder.”

I nodded in acknowledgement and took another step away from him, keeping my eyes trained on his. “And Josh?”

“Biker.”

Another step.

“Chief?”

“Police officer.”

“Makes sense.” I inched backwards again and laughed, though I felt anything but humorous. Brad’s hungry eyes and deliberate advances made me nervous, in an equally good and bad way. Swallowing, I rounded the end of the aisle. “How ’bout Noah?”

“Noah is a dirty businessman and sometimes a firefighter.”

“A businessman?” I scrunched my face. “I can’t see him being that.”

“A
Dom
businessman.”

Oh! Now that I can see.

“Huh. And you’re the hot, tanned surfer?”

He stopped and faced me, him in one aisle and me in the other with the product partition the only thing separating us. “I am. And if you’re lucky I might pick you to come on stage and ride my board.”

I smiled at him. “I’ve already ridden your board, Brad. How many do you have?”

“Three,” he said, leaning over the top of the partition, “and I want you to ride all of them.”

The suggestive tone of his voice dripped with sex appeal as his eyes deviated from looking into mine and glimpsed my lips and chest. My God, he was hot. Super hot, intense, and unrelenting … in a strangely polite way. Brad was definitely an alpha male, but he also possessed a kindness that never had me feeling intimidated by his pursuit. He used the right amount of ‘I want you and I’ll have you’ but then garnished it with ‘as long as you’re comfortable with that’. It was incredibly irresistible. In fact, if I glanced down right about now, I swear we’d both have puddles at our feet, his liquid sex, and mine drool. His puddle would be better though. His puddle was sexy as hell.

Unable to help myself, I studied his mouth and slowly traced the top row of my teeth with my tongue. Brad had great lips, especially the bottom one. It was fuller than the top—plump, pink, soft, and definitely suckable. Not to mention it was perfectly framed by one of the sexiest, defined jaws I’d ever seen. That jaw. That mouth. His freckle.
Fuck!

Snapping out of my Brad-bewilderment, I smiled sweetly at him and swallowed the spell he cast. “We’ll see, Surfer Brad. I’m sure that once you’ve ridden one board, you’ve kinda ridden them all.”
Nicely played, Em. Nicely played.

I turned 180 degrees in the hope I’d find a new place to stand before I erupted into flames and incinerated on the spot, but what I found was Cori in Josh’s arms and Josh feeding her his apple.
Nope. Not goin’ over there.
Turning another ninety degrees, this time I spotted Noah, Dimps and Chief standing next to what looked like a wall of rubber pussies, Noah poking his finger into one and saying, ‘warm, it is not’ and ‘prefer the real thing, I do.’
Not goin’ over there either.
I had no choice. I couldn’t keep spinning on the spot.
Then again, I’m a dancer. I totally can.

No. I couldn’t. I had to find a new BOB and fast, so I turned back around only to smack directly into Brad’s chest … again. 

“I don’t think so, sexy pixie,” he said with amusement, catching me in his arms and tilting my chin to look up at him.

I bit back a smile and willed my vagina to stop sending me subliminal messages of ‘feed me’. “Don’t think what?”

“The ‘we’ll see’ part. I want to dance for you on stage.”

Wow! I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my clothes on if he does that. I’ll probably strip quicker than him.

Ugh! Resisting that face was useless. Resisting his advances was useless. Resisting him was …
useless
. I might as well give up.
Finito
. White flag waving frantically. Honestly, I’d have more chance of avoiding my period for the rest of my life than avoiding his lure.

Smiling, I surrendered my fight and draped my arms around his neck. “You want to dance for me?”

“Yeah. I have a new routine that I tried out on Cor—” Brad cut himself off before he could finish saying Cori’s name. But he hadn’t been quick enough. I’d heard.

“Seriously?” I said, annoyed, pushing against his arms to break his hold on me. “You want to perform for me the same fuck-me dance you performed on my best friend?”

“Wait! Stop,” he pleaded, holding me tighter. “I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

I stopped pushing him and sighed. “What’s to explain, Brad? You’ve been with Cori, and recently. It is what it is.”

“Yeah, it is. And I’m sorry. Look, Cori and I both know we fucked up. What we did was a mistake, a big one, regardless of whether Josh screwed her over or not. And he did. He was an arsehole. He knew it. She knew it. I knew it.” His posture slumped, but he didn’t loosen his grip on me. “Em, what happened between Cori and I was a moment of fucking madness, but believe it or not, it helped the situation. It helped all of us in a fucked up kind of way.” Brad paused for a second before continuing. “They love each other, and they needed to get all of that other bullshit out of their systems. I just happened to be in the way.”

I understood what he was saying, even though I didn’t like it. But I was never a part of what had occurred between the three of them, so it wasn’t my place to judge. “It doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business. You can fuck whoever you want to fuck … then, now, and in the future.”

He moved his hands to the sides of my face, holding my head firm, his eyes steadfast and full of purpose as they searched mine. “I want to fuck you.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, I know. I’ve figured that out already.”

“So let’s do it.”

My heart danced within my chest, but I stubbornly ignored it and shrugged instead.

“What’s that mean?” he asked, mimicking my shrug.

“What?”

“The shoulder lift.”

“It means I leave in two days, so what’s the point?”

“That’s two days of fucking.” The crinkle at the corner of his eye deepened—he was trying not to laugh.

I punched his arm and glared playfully.

“Look, Em. I’ve got it bad for you. And not just in my pants. I think you’re amazing and … well … I can see you and I together at some point, you know?”

My jaw dropped. “But you don’t even know me.”

“I want to know you,” he said softly, his eyes swimming in a sea of veracity.

I stared at him, his intent for us to be a ‘thing’ not what I doubted. It was how he’d feel once he got to know the real
me.
That was what I was scared of. That was what I didn’t want to face, because I liked him.
Really
liked him. He was just … different somehow. He made every part of my body sing, from the pit of my stomach to the surface of my skin, to the heavily guarded gates of my heart. And who knew? Maybe one day if I opened myself up and revealed the real me, maybe he’d unlock those gates and let himself in. Maybe he’d want to.

Matching the same level of sincerity in his eyes, I offered him a warning, my voice not much louder than a whisper. “You might not like what you discover.”

“True. But that’s what discovery is all about, right?”

“Yes. Exactly. Which is why it won’t work.”

“Says who?”

“Me.”

“Why? Because I’m a stripper?” Anger gently simmered across his face.

I went to say ‘no’, because I’d be a big fat hypocrite if that were the case, but he continued to speak. “Okay, so yeah, I take my clothes off on stage to make women happy. To excite them and get their fucking juices flowing, but that’s all I do, Em. That’s all I ever do. My performance is for them, not for me. I’m an entertainer, not a pervert.”

“I don’t think you’re a pervert, Brad. Not at all. I respect what you do. I just can’t see us—”

“Just don’t rule anything out,” he interrupted. “Come to the show tonight with an open mind and see for yourself.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been to a male revue before.”

“Which one? And don’t say Le Coq Fantastique. Those blokes are a bunch of parading peacocks. We’re the best in the country, and we’re the best for a reason.”

“And what reason is that?” I asked, smiling at the dedication and pride rolling from him.

Brad’s hands slid forward, pushing my cheeks to the centre of my face. He looked at me adoringly, appearing amused by my puffy expression. Then, leaning forward, he kissed my newly formed fish lips. “You’ll find out tonight.”

“Fine,” I slurred, unable to talk through my bunched cheeks and mouth.

He laughed and kissed me again. “Fucking adorable.”

***

“Is that what you’re gonna wear?” I asked Cori, as she threw a pair of Chucks on the bed and pulled on a pair of skinny jeans.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Shouldn’t we dress up a little? There’s gonna be highly made-up women everywhere.”

“Yeah, I know. And I don’t really care. I can’t comfortably take photos in a short dress and heels,” she explained, tying her shoelaces.

Standing naked and wrapped in a towel with my hands on my hips, I huffed. “But I’ve got this really cute short, black Bettina Liano dress with lace detail at the neck.”

“Then wear it. There’s no reason why you can’t dress up if you want to. I’m working. You’re not.”

I tapped my lip in thought. “True. Okay. I’m wearing it. But you’re not wearing that.” I pointed to her outfit. “Working or not, you can at least glam it up a little.”

“Em, I can’t squat to take photos in a dress, and if I’m going to be on my feet all night I’m not wearing heels. What I have on is fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“If you’re heading to a game of football, sure. But you’re not. You’re heading to a male revue show, and with me.”

She looked down at her Chucks, jeans, and singlet top. “But I’m comfortable in this.”

“You’re daggy.”

“Fine!” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “What do you suppose I wear then, huh?”

Ha ha!

Prancing over to her suitcase, I rifled through it, plucking out a pair of short grey chino shorts and a white ruffled chiffon singlet top. “These. You can still squat, leap and roll all over the floor in these if you want to.” I tossed them to her. “And wear your pewter Nine West gladiator sandals.”

Cori caught the items of clothing against her chest and tilted her head, smiling curiously. I smiled, too… My job here was done, so I dropped my towel and walked to my suitcase.

“Em! I don’t care how many times I’ve seen your muff. I don’t need to keep seeing it.”

“You just offended her, you know.”

“I don’t care. She’s offending me.”

“Then close your eyes.”

“I am.”

Turning to face her, I found the muff-hater with her eyelids pressed shut. “Such a prude.”

“I’m not a prude. I just don’t need to gawk at all your bits.”

I threaded a skimpy, black lace G-String up my legs. “Apart from my boobs, or lack thereof, there’s nothing wrong with my bits.”

“I never said there was anything wrong with them.” She tilted her head, eyes still closed.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Didn’t Helen ever teach you about private parts, and how they’re
private
?” she asked, her hands waving about and talking the same crap that her mouth was.

I laughed. “You can look now. And yes, she did. She taught Sarah and I that our bodies should never be taken for granted, never used nor abused, and never flaunted in a negative way. She said we must always respect what we’d been given, to look after it and to be proud and never ashamed.”

Cori opened her eyes as I stepped into my dress and turned toward the mirror, shimmying it up my legs to sit in place. “That said, Sarah grew a nice sized-rack, and Mum didn’t know about BDSM back them.” I waggled my eyebrows and winked.

Cori took hold of my zip, pulling it up and tying the lace collar behind my neck.

“Oh, hang on,” I said, reaching for my chicken-fillet inserts. “I need to put these in.”

“Seriously? After what you just told me, you’re still gonna wear those things?” She rolled her eyes. “I thought we agreed the other night that you weren’t wearing them anymore.”

“No, I said I wasn’t wearing them the other night. This dress requires cleavage, therefore I’m chicken-filleting. And just because Mum said that we should respect what we’d been given, it didn’t mean we shouldn’t try to enhance it. I can do both the respecting and enhancing at the same time, see?” Hiking my chicken-filleted boobs in my hands, I jiggled them around until my cleavage popped behind the lace overlay covering my chest and neck. “Respect,” I said, nodding to the reflection in the mirror.

Cori bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head at me, so I turned around and placed my hands on her shoulders. “Now, get dressed. We have dancey man-meat to watch, and I’ve been
dying
to see this all week.”

***

“Hello, sexy surfer,” I blurted out, gawking wide-eyed at the larger-than-life-sized poster of Brad hanging from the wall inside the Parkwood Tavern function room. He was propped against his surfboard with his hand down the front of his shorts, his head tilted back, and his eyes closed, the glossy image dangling before me like a proverbial carrot.