Disgraced Cowboys (Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 3) [Siren Publishing Ménage Amour]

Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 3

Disgraced Cowboys

As the newest headliner at Hot Pink, Brandi Lyn Cherry gets paid well to dance, though not enough to enjoy it. When sexy cowboy Marcus Talbot arrives, however, she’s hot and ready to give him her best private show. He doesn't want to pay her to dance, though. He wants to pay her to stop.

His possessiveness is almost as intriguing as his other love interest, Seth Barnum—a cowboy who’s as sexy and male as Marcus himself. Their allure is unavoidable, and discovering that both are werewolves from Shay Falls’s most infamous pack drags her into a world far darker and more erotic than the one she left. But when their alpha, Kade, comes for Brandi to exact a price on the wolves for disobeying his prime command, all three of them are in danger of losing far more than their secrets—and their hearts.

Genre:
Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Vampires/Werewolves, Western/Cowboys

Length:
48,695 words
 

Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 3

J. Rose Allister

MENAGE AMOUR

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

DISGRACED COWBOYS

E-book ISBN:
978-1-61926-833-3

First E-book Publication: July 2012

Cover design by Jinger Heaston

All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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Disgraced Cowboys
 by J. Rose Allister from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

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DISGRACED COWBOYS

Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 3

J. ROSE ALLISTER

Copyright © 2012

Brandi bent her lithe body clean in half, knowing her red, sequined thong did only a marginal job of covering her crack as she shook her ass at the crowd of boisterous males. She grabbed her ankles and stuck her head between her widely spread thighs, blowing a kiss at the crowd before righting herself to slide her hands seductively along the pole beside her. Pole work had always been her preferred choice for dancing. The phallic prop gave her something erotic to work off of and helped steady her gyrations in the painfully high heels she wore. More importantly, it gave her something to focus on other than the leering audience. Ugh. It wasn’t much of a concession, but at least it was something.

She dipped her head close to give the pole a fake lick, getting her tongue as close as she could to pull off the illusion without her mouth actually touching the metal. God knew how many dancers sweated or coughed on it. The men went wild, whooping and catcalling her as she humped her pelvis against the pole. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, turning her head for a moment when she almost failed.

What a crowd had turned out tonight. She still wasn’t used to seeing so many cowboy hats in a strip club, either. The new place she danced at catered to a big cowboy population, thanks to a glut of small ranches in the area. It was the first establishment she’d ever been inside that actually had a sign reading
Gentlemen may keep their hats on
. Right. Like any of these guys were “gentlemen.”

One thing for sure, though, these cowboys knew how to tip their dancers. She was going to like living in Shay Falls—for as long as it would last, anyway. Better tips meant a faster retirement, and the faster, the better.

It was when she turned to face the audience again that a stranger caught her attention and held it as he moved through the dimly lit club. Damn, the man was fine times two. The way he carried himself, even jostling through a crowd, was downright tantalizing. He came off self-assured but not cocky—a rare thing to see in a man. At least, the kind of men she encountered in the places she hung out. He was taller than most of the men he passed, a bonus for a gal who stood five ten in bare feet. And oh, yeah, he was every inch a cowboy, from the jaunty gray Stetson to the long duster flapping around his calves as he moved. While there wasn’t really a “type” of male that appealed to her, if there was one, this cowboy would definitely be it.

She watched him cast an idle glance her way while she put her back to the pole and slid down into a squat. The reaction was immediate—and a bit unsettling. After a hard double take, he froze in his tracks, causing a pileup when two men behind him collided. He changed direction and came straight toward her, pushing his way between two of the tables fronting the stage. After ignoring a pissed-off codger seated at one of them, he stopped right in front of the stage with his arms folded and an unreadable but not pleasant expression marring his otherwise perfectly sculpted face. The deep cleft in his chin seemed to pucker deeper with the scowl he wore while he gaped at her.

She was still squatting with her thighs spread wide open, and she bounced lewdly on her heels a few times before standing back up. She sauntered forward, undulating her hips as she drew near to the edge of the stage. Men shot to their feet, and crisp dollar bills were tucked in the waistband of her G-string. He just stood there, watching her while she watched him. Jesus, he was even more gorgeous up close. His eyes were so pale, almost silver, and when he pulled off his hat, he ran his hair through hair that was shiny and almost jet black. She’d fuck him in a heartbeat, no doubt there.

Yet his opinion of her appeared to be quite different than that of the rest of the men lining up to stick money on her body. The erotic silver eyes had a hard look, and they narrowed when they met hers. The pull of that eye contact was electric and gave her a little jolt of surprise, but he seemed oblivious to the chemistry. In fact, he seemed angry. Maybe the guy was just playing tough customer, looking for a better show. Admittedly, she wasn’t the world’s greatest exotic dancer. She didn’t enjoy it, and truthfully, she’d never had to work very hard to drive men into a frenzy. That being the case, it was a little bizarre to have a solid block of dissatisfied cowboy standing amidst the sea of waving greenbacks while other men climbed over one another for a chance to hand them over.

Curious, she doubled her efforts to mesmerize the hot stranger, wondering why she even cared while she did it. She walked deliberately toward him as she licked her lips and then teased her hands sensually along her body. She boldly ran one over the swell of her breast, which was barely covered by a sequined string bikini top, while the other slid down to the front of her G-string. The guy didn’t so much as blink.

She leaned forward so her tits were hanging right over him, mashing them together with her hands while she rotated her ass. Her sexy smile fell flat as his scowl deepened. What was he, gay?

“What’s wrong, cowboy?” she asked while still leaning close to him. She didn’t talk to customers while on stage, but the words just slipped out.

Why should it bother her that her gyrations weren’t getting the guy hot? Still, it did. In fact, it was kind of pissing her off.

“Prefer a more personalized performance?” she asked.

He kept glowering and didn’t answer, so she finally shrugged. When she went to move away, though, he finally flinched. “What in the hell are you doin’
here
?” he asked in a gruff but sexy twang, almost as though he was expecting to find her someplace else.

She blinked and straightened up. Bills were still being thrust in her thong, and she backed away. Trying to keep her trademark smile plastered in place took more concentration than she’d have liked while she puzzled over what the hell the guy meant. He acted like he knew her, but she’d never seen him before.

Their eyes met one more time, and then he wrinkled his face in disgust and shook his head. Suddenly, his head snapped around toward the bar, as though someone had called to him over the din. No one had, though. In any case, the weirdo stalked straight for the bar while she fought the sudden urge to launch herself off the stage and slap the hell out of him.

Where the hell did he get off, looking at her like she was some lowlife piece of trash? This was business for her. She was earning money at least, not paying money to get into a club and leer at mostly naked dancers. She was in
control
of her life here, thank you very much. He was probably a lonely loser like all the rest who had to pony up bucks for a bit of female attention. Not that his looks supported that theory.

With the dank lighting in the club and the colored spotlights on stage, it wasn’t easy to keep him in her sights as he got farther away. Why she even bothered, she didn’t know, but she couldn’t quite stop herself from obsessing about him. When he made it to the bar, she saw him strike up what appeared to be quite an intense conversation with another cowboy already standing at the bar. So that was who had stolen his attention from her.