Big Bad Boys A Romance Collection - Penny Wylder Page 0,99

in a deep breath, I lay my arms across the back of the seat, and grin. “Ready? Fuck, Stone, I was born ready.” Chuckling, I relax my body, bouncing my shoulders and flexing my arms. “You think God gave me these dimples just for shits and giggles?”

Stone cocks a brow and smirks. “Is that what those are. . . dimples? I thought those were creases from—” Lifting a closed fist to his mouth, he moves his arm like he's giving head.

“Don't be jealous asshole, I can't help it that pussy flocks to me like seagulls on food in a parking lot.”

“Good analogy, Phade, that's why you get paid to use your fists and not your fucking head.”

“Well, tonight I plan on just using my cock. I left everything else at home.” Grabbing my dick, I jerk my hips.

Stone shakes his head with a smile on his face. “One day your dick's going to fall off, you know that right?”

“Not this dick; it's made of gold.”

We both start laughing, and Stone passes me a shot of vodka as he pours one for himself. “To going pro. Your hard work, and harder head, has finally paid off.”

Tapping my glass against his, I nod. “I can drink to that.”

It's satisfying. Call me conceited, call me full of myself, but I damn well deserve all of this. I worked my ass off to get here, and finally, after years of training and using the underground circuit to make a name for myself, someone has finally recognized my potential. And that someone is willing to pay me a shit ton of money to do what I love—break skulls.

Daniel Cross, my new agent and boss, has represented a few other well-known names over the years, but I'm his prodigy, the name that's going to send him straight to the top. With him at my side, we'll be unstoppable.

The limo stops outside the club, and I see a long line stretching around the building as I look out the window. The bouncer is only letting in a few people at a time and turning away so many more. If you don't have a recognizable face or a handful of hundreds to slip him, getting in is as good as winning the lottery. It's the new Studio Fifty-Four of our time and everyone wants to be here.

The limo driver opens my door and steps to the side so I can get out. “Thanks. We'll be here for a bit so just stay close.” Shaking his hand, I slip him a couple hundred dollars. He won't go anywhere, not now.

I can't stop the smile that hits my mouth as everyone waiting in the line goes silent. Jaws drop wide, panties soak instantly, flooding the sidewalk as I step up onto the curb.

Fuck, I love that. I love the silence, the wide eyes, and the smell of a pussy in heat. Every woman in the line wants to fuck me. And I'll be happy to make their dream come true one at a time.

Stone climbs out behind me, his smile matching mine. Leaning into my ear, he whispers, “There's plenty here for you to pick from. Think you can leave me just one?”

“I can't promise you anything.” Slapping his shoulder, the bouncer gives me a nod, pulling the rope back to let us in. This line means nothing, not for a man like me.

When your name's Phade 'Brass Knuckles' Manson, lines don't exist.

There are whispers and yells, women calling my name and screaming to get my attention. Flashes from cameras pop in my peripheral vision, so I put on my best smile and try to give them the shot they're looking for, the one that will end up on the front page of a magazine.

This shit never gets old. I used to think it was wild when a single person knew who I was while I was fighting underground, but now, now it's surreal.

I can't go anywhere without girls following me, women throwing themselves at me, passing me slips of paper with their number on it. Going pro was the single best thing I've ever done. I wouldn't change a thing.

Fame. Money. Girls.

What more could a single man ask for?

The music turns up in volume the second we step inside, with bass so deep it's making my chest pound and my ribs vibrate. Strobe lights flash in the darkness. A thick smoky haze floats in the room like a velvet blanket.

The air smells like perfume and sweat. People are smashing