Page 21 of Forbidden Fruit (Sweet Treats 7)

Amanda procures a thin silk slip and I merely smile.

“Thanks,” I say. “I promise, everything is going to be okay. Just give me a few minutes in private, and I’ll be ready in no time.”

Clucking with distress, Amanda nods and disappears. Meanwhile, I turn to look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, and my brown hair is piled up in waves on the top of my head. Big, starry eyes stare back at me, and if I’m being honest, my body is tingling already. Quickly, I dry off and slip the silk over my head so that it floats over my curves like gossamer. Then I pinch my cheeks, lick my lips, and take down my hair before fluffing out my curls. I look innocent, yet sultry; womanly, yet a naïf; and most of all, I look ready for Owen. This is going to be our night, and now, I can’t wait.

10

Owen

I’m barely breathing as I wait in the semi-darkness.

Relax, my mind says. It’s going to be fine.

But how can I relax? The woman I love will be presented to my fellow truckers today, and I’ll be claiming her in front of them to demonstrate my possession.

Usually, an initiation isn’t like this at all. Initiations are generally semi-private. The girls are presented to a group of dads, but then the actual possession takes place in privacy. It’s only right because who would subject their daughter to an exhibition in front of dozens, if not hundreds, of hungry truckers?

But because Kristy and I have requested to be exclusive from the get-go, the club decided that performing in public would be a necessity. I can understand their point of view. They want to see what Kristy has to offer because they’ll never taste it themselves. At least, not if I have a say in the matter. Even the thought of another man touching her gets my blood boiling because the curvy girl is mine, and if I have to claim her three times tonight, then I will, just to show them that she belongs to me.

Where is the alpha male territoriality coming from? I’ve been with dozens, if not hundreds of women in the past, and I’ve never felt like this before. Yet, I know that the sassy brunette belongs to me, and my need to mark her and brand her before this group of men is strong. Perhaps that’s the reason why I didn’t protest the ruling when it came down. I want to put my scent all over her as they watch, so that there’s no doubt about whom this female belongs to.

But now, the lights have dimmed. There’s a small dais in the front of the room, lit up by spotlights. Men are arrayed in chairs around it, their forms hulking and huge. Only faint rustles sound out, and I know quite a few of my brothers are looking forward to the show. I wait restlessly in the wings, a white towel wrapped around my waist.

Then, the lights drop to darkness before a spotlight penetrates the room. Kristy has appeared, and she’s absolutely gorgeous. She sways to the dais, teetering on extremely high heels. The white silk of her dress floats about her curves, showing off her generous assets without being louche. A monotone voice speaks aloud then.

“Welcome. This is Kristy Landauer, daughter of James Landauer. Kristy is eighteen years old, five foot six, with Double Ds and a twenty-three inch waist. Kristy, can you please circle once?”

The pretty brunette blushes but smiles and nods. In her high heels, she turns on the dais, her brown locks floating in a spiral as her lush derriere sways. The men groan with approval.

“Thank you, Kristy,” the voice comes again. “As you know, tonight is a special night. Kristy will be initiated by Owen Merchant. Mr. Merchant, to the dais please.”

I take my cue. With a flip of my fingers, the towel drops to the ground and I strut into the limelight like a Roman hero. Why not? I work out and have the physique to prove it. Not only that, but her little walk was enough to get me hard, and my pole is already jutting at a ninety-degree angle from my waist. Kristy’s eyes go wide as I step into the light and her mouth opens in a round “O.” The crowd rustles a bit, but I only have eyes for her.

“Sweetheart,” I growl beneath my breath while taking her in my arms. “Relax, okay?”

She nods even as her sweet lips part beneath mine. She’s all honey and succor, and slowly, everything else disappears into a blurry mass. All that’s left before me is this beautiful girl, and my need for her.

Slowly, I help her off with the slip so that she’s dressed in nothing but glittery high heels. Her creamy mounds are even bigger than usual with hard, rosy tips. Her hips sway, and the pink slit between her legs is already gleaming with moisture and puffy with need.

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