by Vi Keeland
“Daddy, can I be a cheerleader when I get big?” Nalia asks, making me grit my teeth.
“You can be whatever you want when you get big, honey,” Sophie tells my beautiful little girl, making me cringe.
“Do Daddy a favor, baby, and don’t be a cheerleader.” I pull her from the seat below me into my arms.
There is nothing greater than being a father, but it’s also difficult watching your kids grow up. Having girls only makes it that much harder. Boys can look out for themselves, but girls need someone there to watch out for them.
*
Sophie
“Grandpa!” Nalia yells, running across the backyard.
I lift my head from Nico’s shoulder to watch my dad pick up Nalia and swing her around. My dad got out of prison and moved to Tennessee a few years ago. I love having him around. He has become good friends with Nico’s dad, and he even started working for Nico’s brothers doing construction. Before he got out of prison, we wrote letters back and forth. I think it was easier to talk to him through letters. I knew that I could say whatever it was I needed to say, and he could reply with whatever it was he needed to get off his chest.
It helped that I was never alone when I got a letter; Nico and I would sit outside or in bed and read them together. I knew he would be there to hold me when it was all done, and that was all I would ever need. After a while, I started sending my dad pictures of the kids and opened up to him about my family and everyday life. He told me about himself and what he was doing each day. It was difficult to talk about the past, but we did. And we each shared some of our favorite memories of my mom. I loved that we could share that.
He even sent me a key for a storage unit in Seattle that held things from my childhood home. I hated going through the stuff that had been stored there. Having to relive some painful things from my past was hard, but in the end, I was able to have pictures of my parents along with mementos and things I had left behind when I moved out.
“How’s Grandpa’s angel?” my dad asks Nalia, who’s holding his face in her small little hands.
“So happy! I have a new boyfriend at school.” She laughs, smiling at her grandpa, who, up until that moment, was smiling at her.
“What the fuck?” Nico whispers, looking over at me. I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“You’re not allowed to have boyfriends, beautiful girl,” my dad tells her, kissing her forehead.
“But he brought me chocolate,” she tells him like that’s the most important quality in a boyfriend.
“Me, Grandpa James, your daddy, or any of your uncles will give you whatever chocolate you want, angel.”
“Really?” she asks, smiling.
“Really.” He grins back before setting her on the ground.
As soon as she’s free, she runs inside yelling to anyone who will listen that she’s going to get chocolate. By that point, Nico is muttering under his breath about how this is all my fault and that I need to teach our daughter that boys are gross.
“I’m gonna go inside and see what the kids are up to,” I tell him, getting off the overstuffed bed/chair that sits on our back patio.
“Don’t think that we’re not gonna talk about that shit tonight, baby.” He kisses my temple before smacking me on my ass once I start to walk away. I look over my shoulder at him and laugh at the look on his face.
“Love you, Dad,” I say, kissing my dad’s cheek before walking into the house. I love my family.
*
Nico
“Please stop teasing!” Sophie cries, trying to lift her hips higher into my mouth. I’m not having it; I press her hips down into the bed, keeping her just like I want her.
“Take it, Sophie,” I growl against her.
“I can’t! I want to come… Let me come!” she cries, trying to push me away.
I grab both of her hands, holding them against her hips as I bury my face in her pussy. Once she’s dripping wet, I flip her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up high before slamming into her. I watch her hair fly back, her head drop forward, and her ass lift higher, meeting me thrust for thrust.
“That’s it, baby. Fuck yourself.” I still my movements so I can watch her taking my cock, fucking herself hard.
“Nico?” she whimpers.
“What, baby?” I ask, not even looking at her, my eyes glued to our connection.
“Fuck me,” she moans.
I look up to see that her eyes are locked on me over her shoulder. I put my hand under her arms, lifting her up until she’s sitting on my cock, and I do what she wants—I fuck her hard and fast. I feel my balls draw up as she begins to clamp down around me. My hand goes to her hair, pulling her head to the side so I can take her mouth in a deep kiss.
“Hell yes.” I growl my orgasm down her throat as she whimpers hers into my mouth. “I can never get enough of you, sweet Sophie.” I pull out of her, lying down on my back before pulling her on top of me.
That’s the truth. It’s going to be nineteen years since we first got together, and most days, it feels like the first. I’m still as anxious now as I was then to get home to her. She’s not only my wife, but my best friend.
“I love you.” She cuddles deeper into me.
I run my hand down her back, loving the smoothness of her skin. “Love you too, baby, but you need to get a handle on your daughters.” I feel her cheek move against my chest and know she’s smiling. “I’m serious,” I tell her.
“I know you are, honey.” She doesn’t say anything else, and I know I’m fucked and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
*
“Why do I have to be here when I have heard this story a million times?” Jax asks, looking annoyed. I watch my oldest nephew grab a beer before sitting down on the couch.
“I agree with Jax. I’ve heard all this before—the Mayson curse…blah blah blah,” Cobi says, leaning against the wall.
“Can you hurry? I have a date,” Bax says, looking smug before getting a pound from Jax.
I look at Asher and shake my head. My sons and nephews are a fucking handful. I thought my brothers and I were bad growing up, but hell no! We’re looking more and more like choir boys compared to them.
“The younger boys have never heard about it, so shut up and sit down,” Asher says, and all the boys automatically sit down and shut up. Once Asher finishes telling them about the curse and the history of it, they all look at each other and laugh.
“You, Uncle Cash, Uncle Trevor, and Uncle Asher are all just crazy. I don’t care what any of you say. The Mayson curse isn’t real. It’s just something Great-Grandpa and Grandpa Mayson made up to make you guys worry or something.” Bax shrugs, walking over to sit down next to me.
“I never believed it either,” I tell them, and Asher, Trevor, and Cash nod in agreement. “Then I saw Sophie, and boom! It was like my soul knew hers, and I needed her to breathe. One day, boys, you’re going to know what I’m talking about,” I tell my sons and nephews. Just like me, they don’t believe, and just like my dad, and his dad before him, they have been warned.
What none of us know was that we should’ve been sharing this same story with our daughters, for unbeknownst to any of us, the Mayson curse doesn’t affect only the men in the Mayson family.
Assumption
The Underground Kings series
Kenton
Aurora Rose Reynolds
Prologue
I see you judging me. I know what you’re thinking. She has to be a slut; she works at a strip club and takes off her clothes for money. Yes! I work at a strip club, and you may think I’m a whore for showing off my body, but this is a talent that has been forced down my throat since I was a young child. Look pretty and smile. I put on a show for those who choose to watch. However long I’m on stage, I’m not even me. It’s what I imagine an out-of-body experience would be like—a performance, nothing more, nothing less. The people watching make assumptions about who they think I am or cook up a story in their heads
of whom they want me to be. I’m just another beautiful face.
Beautiful. I hate that fucking word. Who gives a crap if someone is attractive on the outside if they are dying inside? My whole life has been about what I look like. I swear, the only reason my mother kept me was to have a real-life, living, breathing doll she could dress up and control, which is the exact reason why, as soon as I became eighteen, I got as far away from her special brand of crazy as I could. That’s also why I don’t date. The first thing guys do is look at me and see a pretty face, a nice body, and an empty space where my brain’s supposed to be. They have no interest in getting to know the person I am on the inside. They don’t care that I volunteer my spare time, and they couldn’t care less that I’m going to school to be an RN. They don’t ask about my hopes, my dreams, or where I see my life in twenty years. They don’t care about me at all.
They just want someone pretty to follow them around and tell them how handsome they are, how special they are, while agreeing with everything they say. Fuck that! I did that for too many years. That’s why I live inside books. At least there I can choose where I want to be—from the highlands of Scotland to a king’s bed in a faraway land. And even if it’s pretend, sometimes that’s a lot better than reality.
Chapter 1
I look out the plane window, my finger going to the glass, feeling the cold on my fingertips as I look out at the land moving quickly below me. It’s funny how, from up here, everything looks so small. I’ve never traveled in a plane before today. Just the idea of being trapped inside a tin can while flying at six hundred miles an hour never appealed to me. I take a breath and look at the TV monitor that’s in the seat in front of me. The small, animated plane on the screen shows that we’re over halfway to Tennessee.
“Are you traveling for business or pleasure?”
I turn my head and look at the guy sitting next to me. He’s slightly overweight and balding, but he also has wrinkles around his eyes, giving him the appearance of someone who smiles often.
I debate with myself on whether or not to answer before replying, “Business.”
His eyes drop to my mouth then to my chest as I fight the urge to punch him in the throat. I hate when men go from nice to creepy.
I shake my head, turning away from him. I don’t know why I even try. I feel a hand on my bare leg, and my head swings around quickly.
“Touch me again and I will rip off your balls and feed them to you,” I tell him in a soft tone, trying not to bring attention to us.
He quickly removes his hand before swallowing hard. “I…I’m sorry.”
I shake my head before turning my body away from his. I feel tears sting my nose, but I fight them back. No way am I going to cry now—not when, just six hours ago, my whole world exploded and I didn’t shed one single tear. I lay my forehead to the glass, closing my eyes. I still can’t believe how fast my life changed…
*
Yesterday
I got up that morning and went to the hospital like I always do. I work at one of the busiest ERs in Vegas. I’ve been working there since I finished school and was required to get my clinical hours for my RN. As soon as I walked into the building, I was loaded down with work. Weekends are always crazy in Sin City, but yesterday seemed worse than normal—two drug overdoses, three stomach pumps, and one gunshot victim. Later, I was leaving the hospital exhausted, only to head to my real job. Well, the one that pays me the money I need to live.
“Hey, Angel.”
“Hey, Sid.” I gave him a half smile as I walked into The Lion’s Den, the gentlemen’s club I work at.
Do I like to strip? No. Does it pay my bills? Yes. The second I get on stage, I’m no longer me; my brain shuts off and my body takes over, the same way it used to when I was growing up and my mom forced me into pageants. I’m accustomed to being on display and used for my appearance. I wish life was different, but it is what it is. Some people complain about being overweight or having acne; for me, I hate being beautiful. I know it sounds stupid; I mean, why would anyone complain about being attractive, right?
Here’s why: men see me as an object, and women see me as competition. No one is ever willing to give me a chance. They all judge me by what’s on the outside, never taking a second to find out even the smallest detail about who I am. I know I’m a walking cliché. I hate being beautiful, yet I work in a business where I put myself front and center to be viewed and judged.
The difference? For the first time in my life, when I get on stage, it’s my choice; no one is forcing me to do it. I get up there to earn the money so I can change my life in a way that will make it so I never have to be objectified again.
“Tired?” Sid questioned, following me. I have worked for Sid for the last three years. He is a friend of sorts; he’s also my boss.
“Yeah. I can’t wait until my clinical hours are over and I can start working at the hospital full time instead of having two jobs.”
“I don’t like that I won’t see your face all the time, but I know you need to move on,” he conceded.
“Some other girl will come in and you will forget all about me.”
“Never, Angel.” His eyes moved over my face and he shook his head. “You’re working VIP tonight.” He followed me down the hall towards the dressing rooms.
“Sure,” I agreed, already exhausted. I needed a shower and a bed but knew I was going to be there for at least eight hours, so I might as well suck it up.
“The guys coming in are important, so you need to make sure they’re happy the whole time they’re here.”
“I have done this before,” I reminded him, stopping outside the dressing room door to frown at him.
“Normally, I wouldn’t say anything—you know that—but I gotta go get on a plane, so I won’t be here to check on them.”
“I’ll make sure they’re taken care of,” I assured him.
“Thanks, Angel.” He kissed my forehead like he often did before walking away. I watched him go for a second before pulling myself together.
“Oh! Look who’s here,” Tessa said as soon as I entered the dressing room.
I ignored her and tossed my bag into my locker before pulling my scrubs off. Tessa is a bitch; she is just like the girls I used to compete against in pageants. To her, life is a competition, and she is determined to come out the winner, even if she has to throw everyone else under the bus on her way to the top.
“Mick said I could work VIP tonight,” she said to one of the other girls in the room.
I ignored her, knowing better than to tell her that it wasn’t happening. I was sure Mick did tell her that…after she took him in the backroom and gave him something to convince him. “Pixie said the guys coming in are some big-time land developers, so you know the tips are going to be outrageous. Thank God, because I need to have my tits redone, and that shit is not cheap.”
I rolled my eyes and headed for the shower room. I had met a couple of nice girls during my time here, but most were just like Tessa—a whole lot of hair, tits, ass, and not much else.
I stood in front of the mirror and put on a coat of red lipstick before standing back, looking myself over. The VIP dress code is different than the rest of the club. The required outfit consists of a sheer, black overlay bra, black silk panties, a black garter belt with sheer hose, and black heels. My long, naturally red hair was pulled back on one side by a large flower; the rest was loose and wavy, flowing down my back and one shoulder. My creamy white skin, red lips, and smoky eyes made me look almost like a sexy vamp.
“You ready, Angel?” Sid asked, pounding on the door.
“Showtime,” I whispered before opening the door.
“You look beautiful; I’m going to take you in there and introduce you before heading out.”
“Sure.” I followed him down the hall to the club.
The Lion’s Den is well known in the area for its exclusivity. The walls are painted a dark brown, and the booths are designed into the walls, making the space
feel intimate. The stage is in the center of the room, a single spotlight shining down on it. Every booth has a girl assigned to it, and VIP has two girls. We aren’t allowed to interact with the customers without being asked directly to do so.
The club is less of a strip club and more of a place for men to hang out and drink while having beautiful women tend to them. If they choose to, they can watch the girl in the center of the room put on a show. I have been on stage several times in the three years I’ve worked here. I’ve never told Sid that I didn’t like it up there, but he normally put me in VIP or assigned me to a booth for the night.
“Why are you so worried about these guys?”
“They’re thinking about opening up a Lion’s Den in one of the new casinos they’re building.”
“That’s huge! Congrats, honey.” I squeezed his bicep and gave him a smile.
“One day, Angel, I’m gonna take you away from this place and show you happiness. I wanna see that smile every day.”
My heart did a little thud. Sid is a very attractive man, but he’s not for me. I don’t want or need a man. They get you all discombobulated, filling your head with a bunch of lies then expect you to follow them around. I did that once. I thought a man was going to save me from the hell I was living in. I gave him my virginity and my heart, and he gave me a child I wasn’t allowed to keep and a heart so broken that nothing or no one can ever put it back together again.
I looked through the two-way mirror at the men around the table in the VIP room.
“All right,” Sid says from beside me, “the man in the center at the table is John Barbato. He is the owner of three of the largest clubs in the city. The guy there on his left is Steven Creo. He’s some bigwig on Wall Street and has backed more than half the new clubs and casinos opening on The Strip. The guy to the right of John has a location they’re interested in purchasing.”