From the world of Carolina Bad Boys and Retribution MC, a

steamy New Adult standalone novella . . . Magic Mike XXL ain’t got nothin’ on

Kinky Kinkaid.

Kinkaid:

Bonafide pussy magnet. Kinky Kaid I wanna get laid. Yeah,

I’ve been called that shit and more. It comes with the territory. See, I’m a

male stripper. I shake my moneymaker so I can pay the bills and take care of my

people.

I’m also a hardcore, hell-bent biker dude, the newest

prospect at Retribution MC. Probie 2.0, and they can never find out how I earn

my living. Women love me. They toss their panties at me. They push hundred

dollar bills into my G-string. I’m down and dirty and the honeys dig it. All

but one.

There’s this girl, Sadie. She’s beautiful and funny and

kickass with some major ink. I’d never make a move on her because she’s my best

friend.

Sadie:

Best friend? Bullshit. Kinkaid treats me like I’m his kid

sister. I’m the hell-raiser, the tomboy dirt biker, his late night call but

never like that. He thinks he’s safe from me. I’m going to prove him wrong.

I’ll make him see me as a woman one way or the other.

When I find out what Kinkaid’s been hiding there’s hell to

pay. Except then he gives me a lap dance. A hot, wicked, panty-melting lap

dance. A lap dance that unleashes our intense desire, fresh jealousy, distrust

and anger.

Everything changes after that, and not for the better. I

love him. I hate him. I can’t lose him. Sometimes I can’t stand him. He’s hot

as sin on a sultry lowcountry night, and he’s still my best friend.

I don’t know if he’s man enough to give me what I need.

Warning: Graphic sex,

graphic action, graphic language. Triple X caution.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25069962-hunter

I accepted a stiff drink

from Rebel-Mae, the funky punk bartender with the glow-in-the-dark pink

fauxhawk, forgetting for a moment I was the Grade-A beef in the joint. No

sooner than I took my first sip of Jack, women surrounded me, pressing against

me, panting all over me.

I couldn’t very well

leave the clients out in the cold. I slung an arm around one of them and smiled

at another, raising my eyes in a help-me expression across the bar toward

Rebel-Mae when something familiar snagged my gaze.

I did a double take. Then

a triple look.

Then my legs almost

collapsed out from under me. My heart went sluggish. My body felt cold. My gaze

stopped on none other than Sadie my-motherfucking-best-friend Grace.

Holeeey Shit.

She stared at me with

wide unblinking eyes and pink spots on her cheeks.

Everything got real

hot, real fast. I hadn’t been this nekkie in

front of my best girl since . . . oh yeah . . . never. I was acutely aware of

that fact as Sadie’s eyes coasted painstakingly from the top of my head all the

way to my toes like she was taking inventory.

My heart returned to its

normal rhythm then it decided to go one better and jackhammer in my chest. I

returned Sadie’s stare with the same scrutiny. No wonder I hadn’t picked her

out in the crowd. Sitting about five feet away from me, she looked like a

complete stranger . . . a very sexy stranger.

Sadie usually wore

paint-splattered coveralls, torn jeans, and baggy T-shirts with her thick hair

braided down her back. Tonight her hair hung loose and straight as a sunbeam.

It reminded me of the beach at Isle of Palms—a mixture of white gold and

sun-spun brown, little sparks of red filtered in. Soft and silky and silty.

It wasn’t just the hair

that blew me away. Sadie had curves all of a sudden. Where the hell had those

come from? The killer dress was the same turquoise blue as her eyes and made

her irises stand out all the more. The dress? Oh man, it was silk or something,

cinched at her waist with a straight skirt that didn’t go low enough on her

thighs as far as I was concerned. And the top? That was no better. The neckline

needed to be a lot higher, turtleneck high, come to think of it. As it was, the

damn thing hugged what looked like perfectly round tits, a suspicion supported

by the fact a tight V of tawny cleavage was very, very visible.

Finally—dear Lord—her

long willowy legs ended in inappropriately strappy, high heels. Not her

standard, sexy Fox Racing Moto-X boots. This was not the regulation Sadie

uniform I was used to. Her outfit definitely affected the blood pounding

through my body—loudly in my ears and coursing lower at an alarming rate to my cock.

My cock that was barely covered in black mesh. Yeah, it was about to bulk up.

Sadie only glanced away from me when one

of her group tapped her on the shoulder. The chicks giggled and whispered, and my worst fears were soon confirmed. It was a bachelorette party.

Yep, one of the babes wore a veil and a white sash that read: Bridezilla! Tall glasses littered the

table, and out of each one popped every bride-to-be’s favorite party favor: a

plastic penis straw. The women were well lubricated, well on their way to

Happyville with a trip to Hangover City in the morning.

Sadie didn’t look happy.

Not one bit.

I’d thought her discovering

my dirty little secret was the worst of it.

I was proven wrong in the

next instant when Sadie’s crazed posse pointed at me, chanting, “LAP DANCE! LAP

DANCE! LAP DANCE!”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

But no. It got a million

times worse when Bride-fucking-zilla (that shit was no joke apparently) got up,

drunk-swayed over to me, and pushed me at Sadie.

“With her!” Bridezilla

shouted as I stumbled in Sadie’s direction.

“WHAT?” I caught myself

moments before I face-dived between Sadie’s legs, rocked backward, and then

quickly moved clear to the other side of the table. Where my ass was

immediately pinched.

Bridezilla looked

expectantly at me then Sadie.

“What?” Sadie echoed my

question.

“Well, you two can’t keep

your eyes off each other,” said the blonde wifey-to-be. “Might as well get your

hands in on the action too.”

This can’t be happening . .

.

Jesus

fucking Christ.

Yahoo!

said my cock.

That thing needed a choke on it.

Older brother/best friend? I felt none of

those things all of a sudden, especially when Sadie looked in my direction and

slowly wet her lips.

Maybe shock and horror wasn’t quite what

she was feeling after all.

I was definitely hot-faced, and no way

did I want to give my best friend—my hottie hot best friend—a freakin’ lap

dance. Unfortunately the rules were the rules.

“Gotta go change first,” I mumbled.