My Newest WIP
A little tease from Feral Hearts
My current work in progress is a little project I started about six years ago and dumped into in a forgotten folder on my computer. I stumbled upon it while I was still working on the Cord & Asher duet and became intrigued with finishing it.
I’ll be honest, Aubie and Cutter are two of the most maddening characters I’ve ever written. There isn’t a day that goes by I don’t want to strangle both of them. But that won’t stop me from telling their story. I’m halfway through it and some days I wonder if I’ll ever finish it. I thought I would at least be further along by now, but these two are stubborn, making me work for every word.
In the meantime, how about a little sneak peek? Here’s the blurb:
Aubie
I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I’ve never let that stand in the way of my two favorite past times–breaking hearts and disappointing my family. An ardent proponent of the smooth line and shallow hookup, I excel at keeping things gliding on the surface. Feelings, when I have them, are reserved for the few I call friends. Until the night I walked into Club Eros and came face to face with Cutter Knight. Now what started out as a means to scratch an itch has me questioning things I thought I buried long ago.
Cutter
Once upon a time I was the family golden boy. Future all planned out. Ducks all in a row. Then my idiot brother threw my world into a tailspin. Now I avoid his type like the plague. Which is why I resent Aubie Gauthier. He’s a spoiled brat with an old money trust fund and a reputation for being a slut. And for some reason he’s set his sights on me. I’m not gay, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be interested in someone like Aubie. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to matter to him.
Wanna read the first chapter? Here ya go.
1: Aubie
Three months ago
“FIRST TIME?”
I glance up at the tall hunk standing next to me and shake my head.
“Don’t be nervous,” he says with a smile. “You’ll do fine.”
“Oh, I’m not nervous.” More like excited.
I’ve spent two days working on my routine. The biggest part of that was selecting my outfit. I chose a charcoal gray velvet jacket, sheer black shirt, slinky black silk pants and dance slippers. I kept my makeup to just some eyeliner and a little shadow. I’m going for a debaucherous lord of the manor aesthetic. I picked out my music–Parked Outside by the Afghan Whigs–and threw it on a thumbdrive for the DJ, then loaded everything in a suit bag.
I stand when the stage manager calls my name and head through the short hallway to the front of house. From the moment I stroll onto the stage and my music starts to play, I know I’m home. The mechanics of taking off my clothes are secondary to having all those eyes watching me undress, knowing that I’ll soon be naked in front of them. I nearly come before the first article of clothing hits the floor.
After dancing provocatively for half a minute, I unbutton the jacket and flash my chest under the sheer black shirt while sucking the fingers of one hand into my mouth and licking each one dry. When I’ve got their attention, I start to lose clothing. Jacket first. One shoulder at a time. Once it’s gone, I run my fingers down the front of the shirt, unbuttoning as I go. I dance like that for a minute with my best bedroom eyes, daring the audience to look away.
You don’t want to miss this.
My hands slide down inside my waistband, making a show of cupping my stiffening cock before pulling on the drawstring to untie my pants. I bite my lip and offer a naughty grin as I let go of the string. The silky fabric slides down my legs to pool at my feet.
I step out of them and turn my back to the audience, exposing my bare ass under the sheer thong. I ease the shirt off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Now the thong is the only thing left, and it barely contains my straining cock.
I turn around and rotate my hips until my cock works its way free of the flimsy garment. Once it slides down, I step out of it and am finally free to prowl the stage completely naked.
And prowl I do, vacillating between bold, come hither looks and coy smiles with just enough of my inner slut to make my moves seductively feline. I know I hit the sweet spot when people start squirming in their seats. One man in the front row yells, “Oh honey, let me help you with that,” when I slide my finger over the head of my cock and bring it to my nose. I take a deep whiff before plunging the finger between my lips and moaning.
Damn, I’m turning myself on.
I’m determined not to have a soft cock or dry pussy in the house by the time I’m finished.
The routine ends far too quickly and I make a show of bending over to retrieve my discarded clothing before strolling confidently off the stage. When I get backstage I’m too hard to even think about getting dressed. I wander back to the dressing room and stretch out on the bench that runs the length of the room between the two banks of dressing tables, hands behind my head, my cock sticking up like a flagpole. More than anything I want someone to touch it.
There are only four men left in the room, one of whom is a willowy twink in a silk kimono who introduces himself as Daniel. He’s a beauty, with long blond hair, smoky hazel eyes, full lips, and razor-cut cheekbones. He smiles and leans close to me, his hair brushing the tip of my cock. I sigh at the contact.
“I loved your routine.”
I reach out and stroke his hair. “You’re gorgeous.”
He blushes adorably. “So are you.” He looks down at me. “I love your cock.” It jumps in response. “I could…take care of it for you, if you’d like.”
“Daryl doesn’t allow that in the dressing room,” one of the other guys says as he shoulders his bag and heads for the exit.
Daniel smiles at me and murmurs, “There’s a storage closet down the hall.”
I’m just about to tell him yes when a tall, exotically beautiful dark-skinned woman in an electric blue suit enters the dressing room. “Don’t you knock, Izzy?” one of the other men asks.
“You think you got something we all haven’t seen?” she asks in a honeyed voice. Her eyes drop to me. “You. New guy. Daryl wants to see you.”
I grin up at her. “How much more does he need to see?”
She rolls her eyes. “Put some pants on, stud, and go see the boss.”
I stroke a finger down my cock, causing it to jump to attention. “That’s going to be a little difficult right now.”
“Do whatever you have to do, but make it quick. I’ll tell Daryl you’ll see him in ten minutes.” Her eyes drop to my cock. “Will that be enough time to fix your problem?”
“I usually go a lot longer than that, but I can make it work.”
She leaves the room muttering something about men and strippers. Daniel stands up and indicates for me to follow him. He leads me to a door down the hall, opening it and reaching inside to flip on the light. There are the usual cleaning supplies and paper products stacked on shelves along one wall. I follow him inside and shut the door. He smiles at me again then drops to his knees in front of me without preamble and takes my cock in his mouth.
Daniel is young but it’s obvious he knows his way around a dick. I love his lips and the feel of his silky hair and baby smooth face against my skin. As much as I’d like to prolong the encounter, I know we’re under a time constraint. When I come, he laps up every drop before rising smoothly from his knees and pressing his lips to mine. I kiss him deeply, exploring his eager mouth with my tongue.
“That was amazing,” I murmur to him.
“Anytime.”
“Are you here every Wednesday?”
“I’m here every night. Just waiting for my opportunity to join the review.”
“I thought amateur night was for non-employees.”
He shrugs. “They rarely fill all the slots so they let me perform since I’m the junior member around here.”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
I kiss him again as I open the door to find Izzy waiting outside, looking even more delectable up close. I may prefer men, but I can appreciate beauty of any gender. I can almost taste her caramel skin.
My dick twitches. Jesus, already?
She smirks. “Everything come out all right?”
Daniel makes a show of sucking on his finger and smiles as he sails past her. “Delicious. I highly recommend him.”
“You better hope Daryl doesn’t find out you’re using his storage closet for hookups.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t, darling,” he calls, ducking into the dressing room.
Izzy stares at me. “Two minutes. Office at the end of the hall.”
“I’ll be there.” I give her a wink before following Daniel into the dressing room to throw on some clothes.
She’s waiting outside the office when I arrive, opening the door and showing me inside. Forget every cliché you ever imagined of a strip club manager’s office. The sophisticated theme from the rest of the club is carried through in here. An indigo leather couch and two side chairs are arranged atop a sculpted wool rug on one side of the room, with artful lamps and curated artwork cozying it up. Having grown up around it, I recognize quality when I see it. There’s money backing this venture.
A long credenza with a tray of decanters and glasses is flush against the wall behind that, the area above it covered with flat screens monitoring every angle of the club, including the house stage and the theater next door.
The boss sits behind a wide teak desk talking on the phone. This place is crawling with eye candy and he’s no exception. Thirtyish. Dark hair swept back from a clean-shaven face. He’s comfortable in this role, but there’s a recklessness about him that makes me wonder what he did to get here.
He indicates for me to have a seat while he concludes his call. Izzy enters behind me and closes the door, standing against it.
“Okay, I’ll think about it, Joan. I have to go now.” He hangs up the phone and looks at me. “Quite a performance. First time?”
“In public.”
He chuckles. “I’ll make this simple. Come work for me.”
“No thanks.”
“The review could use some new blood,” he continues, undeterred.
“I have no interest in synchronized stripping.”
“What do you have interest in?”
I think about it for a second, then shrug. “I just like to be naked in front of people.”
“Good. Then do that. But do it here. You have a look that can make us both a lot of money.”
Despite his hard sell, there’s something about the man that intrigues the hell out of me. I look around at the elaborate surroundings. “You seem to be doing okay for yourself, and I certainly am. Enough that I don’t need the money.”
“Why not? Everyone needs money. Or at least wants it. But do you make yours having as much fun? Besides satisfying your exhibitionist fantasies, you could be up to your ass in pussy or cock, whichever you’re into.”
“I already have that.”
He looks frustrated. “What do you do?”
“Well, I’ve often heard myself described as a shameless slut, among other things.”
He gives me a look that says he’s not sure if I’m serious. “What brought you here tonight?”
“Like I said, I just wanted to take off my clothes in front of an audience.”
“Well, why not come here and do it on a regular basis? Try one night a week. Say, Fridays?”
I shake my head. “Sorry. I like to keep my Fridays open.”
“Okay, how about Thursdays?”
I consider it for a minute, remembering the feeling I got when I walked out on that stage. “Thursday nights on a week-to-week basis. I can’t commit to more than that.”
“I’ll take it. Starting tomorrow.”
“Starting next week. We can talk about more after that.”
And that’s how I start stripping for Daryl Hart.
I hope it kills my father.