Free Tuck's Wrath by Jenika Snow

some extra cash, the one woman that he wanted to stick his dick in wasn’t for sale, apparently in not that way at least. He’d chosen this corner table because it was still close enough to the stage that if he wanted to he could lean in and smell that pussy of hers. Fuck, he bet she smelled all sweet and candy-like. His cock jerked again, and he reached down and adjusted his dick behind his fly to relieve the pressure.
    He might be called an obsessed asshole, or even a stalker because he only came up here anymore to see one woman, but Pierce didn’t care. He’d come here every damn time she worked if it meant he got to see those big, perfect tits of hers.
    Pierce didn’t need to buy pussy that was for damn sure. The sweet-butts back at the clubhouse were all fine, willing to spread their thighs at the snap of a finger, but Pierce couldn’t find any kind of satisfaction with them anymore, not since he’d seen this stripper that first time. He figured he was just hard-up for her, needed her for some damn reason like a fiend needed a fix, and he wasn’t going to deny himself.
    He wanted something different, some foreign pussy that knew how to squeeze a man’s dick until it felt like it would fall off. Yeah, that’s what he wanted, what he’d jerked off to more than once since he’d seen her licking that whipped cream off of her fingers.
    Shit, he was about to come in his pants just from the thought.
    A few of the strippers walked by and offered him a VIP lap dance, and even a little extra in one of the backrooms, but his girl was going to be up, going to shake those ass and tits he’s been needy for.
    Pierce didn’t like skinny bitches, didn’t like the bones that stuck out from their hips and didn’t like being able to see their ribs. What he liked was a nice, thicker woman, one with more meat to grab onto, curves that he could get lost in.
    The lights flashed on stage once, letting everyone know that the next show was about to start. Oh yeah, there she was, walking out in killer “fuck me” stilettos, wearing nothing but this tiny red G-string and bikini top that barely covered her nipples. She had this hourglass figure that had his heart racing and palms sweating. Damn, what was it about her? Her dark hair was up, but the lights were focused on her body below the neck, her face shrouded by the shadows.
    The spotlight slid up and covered her big, round, and juicy looking ass, one that had a nice red string right between the cheeks. Her hair was a little longer than it had been the first time he’d come to the strip club. Even though her hair was up he could tell. But he didn’t care if she had a shaved head. The woman was hot as hell. Her flared hips and thighs, which were meant to grip a male around the waist while he fucked her good and hard, had him curling his hands around the edge of the table.
    “Here ya go,” the waitress said and set his whiskey and Coke on the table. Pierce focused on the stage.
    His stripper turned around, her eyes closed, her lips lush and painted red. He zeroed in on her big, full tits again, at the way they were barely restrained by her red top. She started moving back and forth, and the sight of the way she swayed her hips transfixed him, made his mouth salivate, and the images of the filthy fucking things he wanted to do to her pop in his head. Her flesh jiggled, bounced up and down as she shook it all on stage. Damn, he didn’t want any of these other bastards watching all that glorious golden flesh moving around.
    His dick punched forward even harder, with so much force he nearly pulled his cock out and stroked himself right then and there just to relieve the pressure. Goddamn, she was a sight to look at, a woman that knew how to make a man crawl on his knees just to get closer. Pierce ran a hand over his mouth and breathed out.
    The dance went on for a few more minutes, and when the song ended and she had all her dollar bills, he watched her leave the stage Pierce