Strip Poker: Bad Boys Club Romance #2 Read online

  I had billions of followers who knew me as the World’s Greatest Partier. The man with a yacht, ten thousand hot chicks, and the body and beard of a god.

  ‘Little Dick Vic’ was not the image I wanted to convey.

  I did NOT want to be a laughing stock. Hell, nobody does.

  Whoever had posted this was fucking with my business. My brand. My bank account.

  And they’d been there this afternoon at the shoot.

  A traitor.

  36

  First call I put in was to Joe.

  “Joe – what the FUCK?!” I yelled.

  “What? What’s wrong, Vic?”

  “You haven’t seen the video?”

  “What video? Did they cut together this afternoon’s shoot already?”

  If he was lying, he was doing a damn fine job of it.

  “Google my name and see what’s trending,” I ordered.

  I waited in silence until I heard an “Oh no…” on the other end.

  “Did you post this shit?” I yelled.

  “No, I swear – look, that footage is off an iPhone – I use a goPro, it’s a different screen size!”

  Huh. No smoking gun there, so next call was to my ‘buddy.’

  “What up, Vic!” Trevor said.

  “What the FUCK, man?!”

  “What? What’s goin’ on?”

  Again, if he was a liar, he was damn good at it. But he was an actor…

  Once he starting watching, he just laughed his ass off. “Oh damn… that’s rough…”

  “That’s ROUGH?! You screw me over and that’s all you have to say, ‘that’s ROUGH’?”

  “Dude, I would NOT do that to you – you know that, right?”

  Actually, I did. My anger and paranoia was getting the best of me.

  “Yeah… I know… but SOMEBODY did, and they were on that goddamn set…”

  While I was still talking to Trevor, my text messages chimed. I checked them, and there was the king of all turds in the punchbowl, courtesy of Uncle Sal:

  Someone emailed me a link to your newest internet video. It might have been amusing if I weren’t funding it by supporting your extravagant lifestyle. At least I see SOMEONE is doing her job. Now if only YOU would do YOURS. Once you get back to San Francisco – which should be IMMEDIATELY – I think we should all sit down and reevaluate why we give you any money at all.

  Trevor was still talking. “I’ll call up Duncan and bust some heads till I found out who did it. Somebody on the crew must have – but I wouldn’t do that to you, man, I swear!”

  As I reread Sal’s text, I started shaking in rage. Not from his words, but from someone else’s, spoken not half an hour ago.

  You conceited, arrogant prick – I will MAKE it your problem!

  “I know you wouldn’t, Trev,” I growled. “But I know somebody who would.”

  37

  I stomped out into the main area of the penthouse and headed for Monica’s room.

  The door was closed, but all I could think of was this morning with the stun gun.

  The bitch wants to barge into MY room, I’ll barge into HERS.

  I grabbed the doorknob and twisted –

  Unlocked.

  Good.

  Don’t have to break it down.

  I flung it open and roared, “MONICA – ”

  She was standing there by her bed, butt-naked, skin damp, towel around her head, about to put on her bra.

  Holy fuckin’ shit.

  Even in a business suit, her figure was always partially obscured by her blouse and jacket. You could see it was bangin’, but there was really only a hint of it.

  But now, I had a completely unobstructed view, and I have to say, I have never seen a more perfect rack.

  Or waist.

  Or legs.

  Or… everything.

  She looked up in complete and utter shock – and then started screaming in outrage as she pulled the towel off her head and frantically tried to wrap it around her.

  “YOU GODDAMN PERVERT – GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM RIGHT NOW! I SHOULD SUE YOUR FUCKING ASS – ”

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I said sheepishly, and turned around so my back was to her.

  “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?!”

  What was I doing here…?

  Oh yeah…

  I was supposed to be mad…

  “You posted this!” I said angrily, and lifted up my phone.

  “DON’T TURN AROUND!”

  “Alright, alright!” I snapped.

  “Posted what?!” she yelled.

  “Here!” I said, shaking my phone.

  She snatched it out of my hand.

  I could feel the damp warmth radiating off her, fresh out of the shower…

  “What is this?!”

  “Just play it!”

  She pressed play and started watching the video.

  I could hear the dialogue playing out of the phone’s speakers:

  “Settle down and shut up, Peanut Gallery.”

  “You’re a self-centered, entitled little toddler with a beard, and you run around crapping all over everything and expecting other people to clean up your mess!”

  As soon as the toddler started screaming, she snorted with laughter.

  Which irritated the hell out of me.

  I started thinking, After all the hell she’s putting me through, I deserve another peek…

  I turned my head slightly to the side and peered over my shoulder.

  God damn.

  She had the towel wrapped around her body now, but not being able to see everything made it that much more enticing. The towel stopped right above her thighs, which were toned and firm. Her arms were angled in as she held the iPhone, which smashed her boobs together, which made them look absolutely amazing over the top of the towel – not to mention the alluring droplets of water beaded right in her cleavage. Her hair was wet and stringy and all over the place, but I loved it all the same.

  And she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

  Most of the chicks I sleep with, they need makeup. I mean, it’s not quite ‘Go to bed with a 10 and wake up with a 2,’ but it’s definitely a three-point drop in quality if the makeup is off.

  Monica was gorgeous even with the minimal amount of makeup she wore. That was her thing, that you weren’t quite sure if she was wearing any or not.

  Turns out that when she wasn’t, she was even more beautiful.

  She looked fresh-faced, like some sort of Hawaiian beauty from the 1800’s, stepping out of the jungle wearing next to nothing. Her cheeks were flushed from the shower, her eyes sparkled, and her lips were a natural, deep pink that no lipstick could improve.

  She was stunning.

  “Is this about last night?” my voice asked from the video.

  “What, when I wouldn’t sleep with you?”

  She laughed again, but then her eyes flitted up from the phone and caught me staring.

  “Hey!” she barked angrily.

  “You’re covered up,” I said defensively.

  “That doesn’t mean you get to perv out on me!” she snapped.

  “Fine,” I grumbled, and turned my head away. It was very difficult, let me tell you.

  When the video got to the ‘Super Bitch on crack’ part, she started yelling at me again. “THIS is why you burst into my room and violated my privacy? THIS?!”

  “Just hold on.”

  “Big words from a little girl.”

  “Big talk from a little dick.”

  “Oh,” she muttered.

  Then came the repeated refrain, during which she gasped a little:

  “Little dick – little dick – little dick – little dick – ”

  The repetition made me so mad that I didn’t care about her yelling at me – I turned around.

  And immediately wasn’t quite as mad anymore when I saw her in that towel again.

  She wasn’t laughing, to her credit. She was wincing as she scrolled down the screen. I could t
ell she was reading the comments.

  “Your Instagram…?” she asked as she kept reading.

  “Gone to shit,” I snarled. “I’m an internet meme now – ‘Little Dick Vic.’”

  She grimaced as she handed the phone back to me. “Okay, I can see why you’re pissed. But that doesn’t give you any right to – ”

  “Why the fuck would you do that to me?!” I yelled, though I kept getting distracted by her cleavage.

  “Do that to…?” she asked, confused – and then the light bulb switched on. “You think I posted that video?!”

  “Uh, YEAH!”

  “Hey, genius – I’m IN the video!”

  As she said it, she freed one hand and jerked her thumb back at herself.

  As a result, her towel slipped.

  I saw a good bit of side-boob and a flash of the top of a deep-brown areola, and suddenly I wasn’t really paying attention to her words anymore.

  She had to snap her fingers in front of my face to get me to tune back in. “Hey, PERV!”

  “Wha?” I said in a daze.

  “I said, ‘How could I have filmed it if I was in it?’”

  “I…”

  Between the glorious bit of peep-show and a general lack of thinking things through, I got thrown for a second. But I recovered.

  “I’m not saying you filmed it, I’m saying you had somebody ELSE do it and post it!”

  “Why the hell would I do that?!”

  “‘You conceited, arrogant prick,’” I quoted. “‘I will MAKE it your problem.’”

  She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t meant it like THAT.”

  “Oh? How else were you planning on making life hell for me, huh?”

  “I meant professionally. I would never make a video making fun of a guy’s – his, uh – ”

  Now she was the one staring – right at my crotch.

  The look on her face turned me on even more. I say ‘even more,’ because I didn’t quite realize until that moment how turned on I already was.

  I felt cloth tightening against my cock, and realized I was already hard – and getting harder by the second.

  Aha.

  I looked down to see my erection jutting out sideways against my shorts. It was a pretty good view of what I was packing, if I do say so myself.

  I looked back up at Monica, and holy shit I was even more turned on by her reaction.

  She was staring wide-eyed at it. One hand had gone to her lips in an Oh MY kind of way – but she was biting on one finger unconsciously.

  Then she looked up and saw me staring at her.

  Her face instantly flushed a deep scarlet, and she jerked her head up, settling her gaze square on my face.

  I could tell she wanted to look down at it again, because her eyes kept dropping just a millimeter or two, but she did a pretty good job of staying focused on my eyes.

  “Well…” she said, but trailed off.

  There followed a few seconds of super-charged sexual tension. I’m not kidding, it was hotter than just about anything I’d ever experienced in my life.

  “Well what?” I finally demanded.

  She cleared her throat. “Ahem. At least we know what I said in the video wasn’t accurate.”

  That turned me on even more.

  I felt like I was about to burst out of my pants.

  Of course, that didn’t mean I was going to take it any easier on her.

  “I already KNEW that. YOU may know it now, but the rest of the world doesn’t!” I snapped.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with that!” she protested.

  “You were the one who called me a little dick!”

  “Well, yeah, but I didn’t have anything to do with that video!” she shouted, and involuntarily dropped her eyes back down to my crotch.

  I was enjoying this.

  “Hey,” I said, and snapped my fingers in front of her face. Somehow I managed to keep from grinning. “My eyes are up here.”

  That made her blush even more furiously – and get even angrier. “THEN GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!”

  “This isn’t over,” I snapped, pointing at her, then stomped out the door – which she slammed shut behind me.

  I immediately went back into my own bedroom and had to readjust myself, my ‘positioning’ was so uncomfortable.

  I hadn’t come in, like…

  I counted the days with a frown.

  It had been awhile.

  And I was uncomfortably hard.

  I thought about rubbing one out, but actually, I was sort of enjoying the discomfort. I was usually only about 90% stiff with most of the chicks I was with, and that was during sex. To be honest, I just wasn’t that into them, so I never got completely erect.

  But thinking about Monica and the last couple of minutes had me at 115%. Rock hard.

  And her body…

  That glimpse I’d had of her naked…

  And her breasts, mashed together but covered by her towel… the droplets of water in her cleavage…

  Her thighs… her wet hair…

  Her natural beauty…

  It took a long, long time for my erection to go down.

  38

  Monica

  Oh my GOD.

  After I locked the door, I sat down on the bed and tried to regain my composure.

  I was pissed as hell at Vic, yes –

  But oh my GOD.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  It was…

  It was pretty damn big.

  I wanted to stop thinking about it. It was stupid that I kept thinking about it.

  So he has a big dick. So what.

  The only problem was, that was sort of my thing.

  I had a lot of girlfriends who swore size didn’t matter… and maybe it didn’t, for them. Me, I’d been with a half-dozen guys from high school to graduate school, and though I’d never stayed with a guy solely because of his size – personality was the main thing in my book – I can tell you that in my experience, the bigger the package, the better the sex. Sometimes it had only lasted one night, though with my first college boyfriend it had lasted two very fun years.

  I just couldn’t come as easily with somebody smaller. I mean, I could, but it was more of a crap shoot. But coming wasn’t a problem at all with somebody past a certain, um, girth.

  And Vic looked like he had plenty of that.

  Not to mention a considerable amount of length.

  DAMN it.

  I hated this guy! He was a douchebag, he was an asshole, he was making my life miserable having to babysit his entitled ass –

  Okay, yes, he was handsome.

  And yes, he was tall.

  Yes, he had a killer body, with the broadest shoulders you’ve ever seen…

  And yes, when he put his mind to it, he could be funny, and smart, and insightful. Especially when he looked right at you with those warm brown eyes…

  AND he was well-endowed.

  DAMN it!

  I was paid to cut down on this guy’s expenditures and corral him like a wild horse. I couldn’t do my job if I kept getting distracted by what was in his pants.

  I started listing his bad qualities.

  Self-centered ass.

  Wrong choice of words. I immediately thought of that muscular bubble-butt I’d seen in his boxers this morning.

  Damn it.

  So I started over again.

  Juvenile sense of humor.

  Better.

  Flagrant man-whore.

  That was no good. Now I just started thinking of all the women who got to see it, to touch it, to feel it inside them, and suddenly I was jealous for no good reason.

  DAMN IT –

  I started over yet again.

  Horrible sense of style.

  Yes, that was a good one. His stupid t-shirts – his ugly camouflage pants –

  But that just led me back to thinking about the gigantic bulge I’d seen underneath them.

  STOP, STOP, STOP, I commande
d myself.

  In the end, I got back in the shower and turned on the cold water full blast.

  I screamed in pain – and more than a little sexual frustration. It had been at least five months since I’d been in bed with anything but a vibrator.

  But the cold shower helped.

  Sort of.

  39

  I had just finished getting dressed after my icy, sex-drive-killing shower when the phone rang. I checked my screen –

  Sal Cortelian.

  I really should get an appropriate ringtone for that guy… like the Funeral March or something…

  “Mr. Cortelian, hello,” I said as perkily as I could fake.

  “Is my nephew there?” Sal snapped.

  Oh God, what had Vic gone and done now?

  “Um… I can go get him… is anything wrong?”

  Another voice spoke up, wheezy and asthmatic: Frank Cortelian. “Just go get him and put him on speakerphone.”

  Great.

  Both of them.

  This was going to be a fun phone call.

  “Yes sir.”

  I trudged out into the main room of the penthouse. Vic wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so I went over and banged on his bedroom door.

  After a few seconds it swung open, and Vic leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest and the most smug, self-satisfied, irritating smirk ever on his face. “So… back for another peek?”

  UGH.

  He was making it so easy to forget about his one redeeming quality.

  “No, your uncles are on the line,” I said, and hovered my finger over the speakerphone button.

  He immediately stood bolt upright and shook his head No, no, NO –

  I punched it anywhere.

  “Vic, are you there?” Frank Cortelian called out.

  Vic scowled and flipped me the bird. I just gave him a smile laced with arsenic.

  “VIC?”

  “Yeah, I’m here,” Vic snarled.

  “And you, Ms. Ames?”

  “Yes.”

  I steeled myself for a chewing out – some sort of diatribe on besmirching the family name –

  “Do you know Bradley Middleton?” Sal Cortelian asked.

  Okay, that was unexpected…