Linc (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 3) (2 page)

Claire Reed

I hate my sister.

That's an all too familiar, sarcastic phrase I've been muttering for years, but now, at this very moment, with the spotlights blinding me and a crowd of pervy men screaming at me to, "
Come on, baby, show us your titties!
" I really freaking loathe her.

Mandy, aka the kinky porn star
Eve Kelly,
is passed out high as a kite in a hotel room, while I stand on stage in nothing but a white thong bikini pretending to be her slutty alter ego. As far as my squinting eyes can see, the entire strip club is packed full of disgusting, horny men. It's standing room only, and all eyes are on me. Now I know how all those deer feel when they’re stunned frozen by headlights. Thankfully, my heavy makeup is hiding my blush of extreme and utter embarrassment, not that any of these lovely gentlemen are looking at me above the neck. I know without a doubt these assholes are all thinking about what it'd be like to fuck me, or more specifically, my little sister in a multitude of dirty ways.

Since I'm only thirteen months older, most people assume Mandy and I are twins. We're pretty much identical, except I have more meat on my bones compared to my sister's skeleton that's unfortunately sustained only by illegal substances nowadays. My thick, bronze colored hair is a touch shorter, just brushing my shoulders, and my eyes are light blue where hers are more of an in-between bluish-green hazel. Those three minor differences go unnoticed by all of her adoring fans in this crowd. In fact, her own asshole manager/boyfriend couldn't tell us apart, which is how I ended up here tonight, filling in for her. James is not happy with me at the moment, though, because I refused to go full nude. Nope. Not gonna happen. And even if the material I'm wearing is see through and doesn't leave much to the imagination, I refuse to flash these creeps my private girly parts, despite how many times they yell out the crude suggestion or how many green bills they wave at me.          

Knowing I can’t keep standing here frozen like Bambi, I reluctantly start swaying my hips and dropping it like it's hot on the pole as seductively as I can manage. Drop it like it's sort of lukewarm is a much more accurate description. There's no hiding the fact that I have zero rhythm, unlike my sister who could make even the cabbage patch and running man look sexy.

Plastering on a fake smile and thrusting out my ample chest, I hope to distract from my incoordination. I stay in the middle of the stage as far away as possible from all the greedy hands reaching for me like a gang of hungry, flesh-eating zombies from
The
Walking Dead
. Mentally I’m trying to concentrate on counting all the green currency raining down instead of having a full blown panic attack. My body feels like it’s overheating, making me wonder if I’ve actually died and gone to hell. I can’t imagine a more frightening place than the one I’m currently suffering in.

Trying to cool myself down and look flirty, I lift my hair off my neck and wrap my legs around the pole, posing in what I hope is a provocative stance for one loonnngg, painfully awkward Nine Inch Nails song. It’s a lovely, ear-splitting ballad about a man who is desperate to fuck someone like an animal. What a sweet talker he is.

Having never stepped foot inside of a strip club before, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do up here. When I asked, James told me to just shake my tits and ass. He’s so very helpful, but offered more advice than my sister whose response before we left the hotel was to simply continue drooling and snoring.  

Before the last notes of the perverted rock song, I quickly flee the stage. For the next two hours I'll be signing autographs and taking selfies with all these drunk bastards, while flirting with them like I'm a huge slut who loves sucking cock. Awesome. But at the end of the night, I'll have made five thousand dollars out of this little charade, putting us that much closer to finally paying off the thirty thousand my sister owes one of the local meathead loan sharks for advances on her drugs. Although, at the outrageous interest rate of twenty percent or some shit a day, the debt is likely more than that now. At least I'll have
something
to give Bobby Manus tomorrow when he tracks us down. Enough to hopefully keep him off our asses for another few days. Mandy better be glad our younger brother, Mason, and I both love her so much, otherwise we'd leave our sister to deal with her nine hundred ninety-ninth fuck up all on her own. 

Usually I pull at least fifty hour weeks waitressing in a steakhouse, and Mason earns his money in a few…illegal enterprises. After we pay for standard living expenses, that doesn’t leave a whole hell of a lot to throw at our sister’s vices. While Mandy makes a decent chunk of change for agreeing to star in pornos, that’s all the money she ever receives, despite how many copies are sold by the production company. It’s bullshit, but that’s how the industry works. The rich get rich off of the lowly “actresses” and the actresses live shitty lives, having to tour strip clubs to make a little extra money on the side. I try
really
hard not to think about what else my little sister does to earn money on the side. She’s a grown woman who refuses to listen to me, and it feels like I’m running out of options to try and save her from this latest downward spiral. I’m doing what I can, including humiliating myself to dig her out of the current shithole, but Mason and I can’t keep up this daily dose of disaster routine forever. It’s exhausting, and I’m so damn tired.   

...

Linc

I slouch casually in the chair with my beer in my hand, tryin’ to enjoy the brunette humpin’ the stage, but I can't sit still. I'm jonesin’ for another hit of Eve after seein’ her standin’ under the spotlights in nothin’ but a clear, miniscule bikini. Even if she looked like she had a bad case of stage fright freezin’ her up tonight, that woman is so scorchin’ hot. My hard cock has a steady drip going on, eagerly offerin’ to be the one to put out her fire. It's his fault I'm fidgetin’ because he's tryin’ to talk me into some crazy shit like, “
Go get her, big boy.”
I respond with “
What the fuck am I supposed to do, dickhead? Grab her, throw her over my shoulder, and run?”
After that he calls me a pussy, and tells me to go jerk off in the bathroom.
Now is neither the time nor place for me to put my hand in my pants, cock!

Durin’ the argument with my dick, my eyes keep cuttin’ over to the table near the back where I know Eve's sittin’, but I can't see her. It's where the majority of men in the club have gathered around, tryin’ to get closer to sex personified. The woman puts all other females to shame, includin’ the women wanderin’ around the black lit club in nothin’ but thongs. While I may take a look at their asses and tits as they walk by because hell, I am a man, they're all...trashy compared to Eve who somehow manages to look like a pure and elegant saint, even though I know for a fact that the girl can flip the switch and suck a long, hard dick down her throat like a sexy, high powered Dirt Devil.     

"You gentlemen look like you could use a little one-on-one time," a bottle blonde stripper says to us. She smacks both of her palms flat down on the small circular table to give me, Nate, and Senn an unobstructed view of her perfectly round, fake tits. "Who wants to go first? How about you, sugar?" This is when I realize she's talkin’ to me.

"Ah…" I start and glance over at Nate and Senn to see if either of them are interested in a private dance with her since I sure as fuck am not. Senn tips his chair back, balancin’ on just two legs to check out her ass, and then gives a slight shake of his head. He likes big butts and he cannot lie.

Nate...I reach over next to me and close the ginger's jaw. "He'll go," I tell her.  Pullin’ out my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, I hand the girl enough hundreds to keep her happy and the terminally single man entertained for a while.

"You are the motherfuckin' man," Nate says with a slap to my shoulder when he stands up from the table to go get some titties rubbed in his face. "For the right price, I bet even Eve Kelly would dance for you," he tells me over his shoulder before he follows the blonde down the dark hallway.           

Genius! Hell, why didn't I think of that shit?

As always, no other stripper in this place will do for a private dance now that I've seen Eve Kelly. I might as well become a monk because I don't know if I'll ever be able to fuck another woman again without Eve's porno on in the background. I will neither admit nor deny that I've done such a thing in the past. And, okay, my less picky dick slightly disagrees with my proclamation, but even he admits he's fairly partial to the porn star.

"Sadly, red beans and rice
did
miss her," Senn mutters before throwin’ back his bottle of beer, tellin’ me I had guessed accurately about the stripper’s lack of junk in her trunk.

"There's gotta be a nice, juicy ass walkin’ around here somewhere for ya," I assure him.

"You know who has a bangin' ass?" he asks with a smirk.

I groan, knowin’ the frightening road we're unfortunately about to go down. "Don't fuckin’ say it-"

"Your sister." He finishes the disturbin’ sentence despite my warnin’, makin’ me cringe.

"You're gonna pay for that, fucker," I point a finger at him and promise. "Just wait until the doctor clears me. Bring your pillow when you step in the cage with me, 'cause you're gonna be takin’ a lonnng fuckin’ nap."

"I bet I'll have some sweet ass dreams..." He pauses, still givin’ me that irritatin’ fuckin’ grin. "Of your sister."

Leanin’ across Nate's now empty seat, I nail Senn in his shoulder hard with my right fist, backed by the force of my uninjured arm. He chuckles in response as he rubs a hand over the sore spot. "No seriously, though, when is Hales's fine ass coming home again?"

"Fuck if I know. Not that I'd tell you if I did," I reply, tippin’ back my own bottle to swallow the last few sips of flat beer before sittin’ it on the table.

"Ah come on! Just give me her fuckin’ phone number. Don’t you want me to be your brother-in-law?"

I bark out a laugh at his overly optimistic statement. "Not a fuckin’ chance," I tell him.

"Why the hell not?" he asks indignantly, squaring his shoulders.

"Because every guy Hailey brings home is squeaky clean with an Ivy League degree hangin’ up in their fancy office. And you," I give him a quick once over. "You have shaggy hair that’s long enough for a goofy ass top knot, and are currently wearin’ a
Big Johnson's Bar and Casino
shirt that says, '
Liquor
up front,
poker
in the rear.'"

"So?" he says, causin’ me to shake my head. I don't want to encourage the bullshit game he's played ever since he met my older sister a few years ago. It’s only gotten worse after...whatever the fuck happened this past summer between the two of them. I really don’t want to know what he may or may not have done with Hailey the last time she was home.

For the past few years my sister’s been travelin’ back and forth from LA to New York as a "plus size" model, whatever the fuck that is. She's barely a few inches shorter than me at six feet, and can't possibly weigh more than a buck twenty, yet she's constantly on a diet. I know every time I see her lately, which is mostly just around the holidays when she stops in for a day or two, she seems…really unhappy, which sucks, but she's a grown ass woman, livin’ her own life, so what can I, her little brother miles away, do? Well, other than offer to beat the shit out of whoever makes her miserable?

"Can we please stop talkin’ about my sister while we're in the middle of a goddamn strip club?" I ask Senn. "You're killin’ my buzz."

"Fine," he agrees with a sigh. "So are you gonna try and meet your girl before she leaves or what?" He nods to the group of men still formin’ a circle around the back table where Eve is signin’ autographs.  

This is the reason we’re here, right? Because I need to meet the woman of my erotic dreams, see that she’s a horrible, nasty slut, and hopefully be able to rejoin the real world. It’s a necessary step in my addiction recovery.

"Might as well," I agree, causin’ my dick to twitch in approval. “Although it looks like I might be shit out of luck based on the crowd.”

Gettin’ to my feet, Senn follows me over to the cluster of anxious men. If I don't at least try to see her face-to-face, I know I'll always regret it. 

The hoots and hollers increase in frequency and volume as we get closer to the group. So do the obscene comments. Fuck, I know I'm no better than these guys since I’ve thought about what it'd be like to screw Eve more times than I can count, but the shit they're sayin’ is startin’ to really piss me off. Like the frat boy standin’ next to me.

"Will she fuck me?" the redneck asshole with a backwards baseball cap asks some greasy haired douche wearin’ khakis and a cheesy jacket.

"You really think
Eve Kelly
is gonna fuck you for five hundred dollars? Are you out of your goddamn mind?" the douche scoffs. "Cough up five thousand and then we can talk."

My blood pressure rises at how they're talkin’ about a woman like she's an item up for sale. Yeah, I know she stars in porn, but after seein’ the girl actually dance all shy and hesitantly on stage tonight, I have a hard time believin’ there's any amount of money that could pay for a night with her. Maybe I'm naïve and just don't want to think of my dream woman as a whore, but that's her decision to make, not these two dickheads barterin’ her body for cash.