King's Pleasure. Adrianne Byrd
is still a hot market. It’s one of the main reasons why I wanted to have the party here. It’s a bachelor-and-farewell party all rolled up into one.” Dylan’s eyes grew misty. “I need a drink. Damn, I’m getting married!”
“Aah,” said Dave Killion, Dylan’s best man, who popped up like a jack-in-the-box with a tray of tequila shots. “You said the forbidden word. Drink!”
Dylan rolled his eyes as he reached for one of the shot glasses.
“What’s the forbidden word?” Jeremy asked.
“Married,” Dave answered. “Consider that your only warning.”
“Got it.” Jeremy gave him the thumbs-up and then watched as Dylan tossed back his shot.
“I still can’t believe that I’m losing this place,” Dylan moaned.
Jeremy struggled not to laugh. It was usually during the last twenty-four hours of bachelorhood that all the things brothers were truly giving up finally hit them. Losing the crib was one thing. Their only private space was about to be reduced to just a “man cave” in the basement—if they were lucky. He knew plenty of dudes who were still begging or negotiating to have even that. Their wardrobe would decrease to a quarter of the closet where they could own no more than three pairs of shoes—usually, two pairs for work and one pair of sneakers. God forbid if there wasn’t enough space for the entire department-store-size shoe collection that the missus was bringing to the table. Not to mention the guest pass to the feminized bathroom issued by the wife, where a stick of deodorant and one bottle of cologne that she’s selected resides in the medicine cabinet.
“Actually, I’m going to need some more liquor,” Dylan announced after Dave strolled off.
Jeremy followed him. “How’s it going, Robbie?” Jeremy shouted above the music.
The bartender glanced up and smiled. “Never better, Boss Man.”
Jeremy glanced over at the tip jar and saw that it was already full. “Looks like it’s going to be a good night.”
“It’s always a good night at Bachelor Adventures’s parties.” He winked after spouting the company line.
“Heeeeey, now, that’s what I’m talking about.” Jeremy gave Robbie the thumbs-up. “Hit me with a Heineken.”
“You got it.” Robbie turned toward the portable chiller and grabbed one of the green bottles. “Here you go,” he said, popping the top and setting it down on the bar.
“Thanks.” Jeremy stuffed a couple bills into the tip jar and then turned around to take another survey of the growing party. It was just an hour into the bash and already a few of the ladies had done away with their bikini tops, and more than a few of them were tossing smiles and winks his way.
He turned up the bottle to swallow, and began his mental checklist of possibilities for the evening. What am I in the mood for this evening?
Malibu being Malibu, the selection had more vanilla than his preferred chocolate, but there was enough of an assortment to keep his libido in the game.
When the sun disappeared, the bamboo and seashell Tiki Torches were lit, along with several campfires, to give the partygoers outside on the beach enough light. With beer in hand, Jeremy moved around the crowd, primarily checking on his employees and the groom-to-be.
On deck, his two nude models lay still on buffet tables with an assortment of sushi and sashimi placed strategically over their bodies. Some of the men made their selections by carefully using chopsticks, while others got their jollies off by using their mouths. As a precaution, Jeremy had two security guards posted near the girls to make sure that guests didn’t get too carried away.
As minutes ticked into hours, the drunken games changed from Pin the Condom on the Model to Booby Dodgeball (throwing a ball in the shape of a boob and hitting another player). Jeremy joined in on that one and won.
By the time The Dollhouse Dolls’s glistening bodies did what they did best, working the portable stripper poles, the party was classified as being off the hook. One of his popular dancers, Dime Piece, had one brother fiendin’ so hard that he let her walk him around the room on his hands and knees with a gold leash around his neck.
Still clamoring for more, Dime ordered two of the bouncers to tie him to a coffee table where she then proceeded to climb on top of him in the classic sixty-nine position and simulate a sexual act. The look on dude’s face let everyone know that he was in hog heaven.
By midnight, the Dolls had finished their acts, but the party was far from over. Dylan eventually showed up at the bar, shirtless and with his fly open, demanding another drink—which was the last thing it looked like he needed.
Jeremy greeted him with two potential honeys tucked under each arm, and his own smile stretched across his face. “How you holding up, Dylan?”
His buddy turned toward him, smelling like Mary Jane and looking higher than the satellites orbiting the earth.
“Dr. J, man. You throw the best damn parties,” he slurred.
Another satisfied customer. “Thanks, bro. I’m glad to see that you’re having a good time.”
Dylan looked at the two ebony beauties next to Jeremy and struggled to straighten up. “You don’t look like you’re having too bad a time yourself.”
Jeremy laughed. “You know me. I get in where I fit in—most of the time.”
“Awww…that’s my dawg!” Dylan held up his fist for a bump, while Robbie set the next drink down for the groom-to-be.
When Dylan’s gaze lingered on the ladies, Jeremy leaned down and whispered, “Why don’t you two be nice to my friend here?”
They shared a brief disappointed look, but then slid over to either side of the man of the evening and poured on the charm.
“Damn,” Dylan said. “Nobody can say you’re not a generous man.”
“My momma always taught me to share.” Jeremy laughed, but while he was laughing, he caught sight of the most unbelievable hourglass figure out of the corner of his eye.
“Whoo, girl. Shake it!”
Jeremy’s head twisted all the way around as his gaze zoomed toward a stunningly beautiful cinnamon-brown beauty in a white bikini top and matching wraparound sarong. “Who is that?”
Despite being a man who was accustomed to seeing beautiful bodies, Jeremy was positive that he had never seen curves that lush and dangerous in his entire adult life. Baby Girl was so fine that he personally wanted to call and thank her momma for doing one hell of a job.
And man, could this chick move. Rock, rock, dip and back it on up. Baby Girl. He shook his head. She had just the right bounce and jiggle to set it off.
It was hard to look at her without a brother twisting up his face because she was putting a hurting on everyone watching her. Before he knew it he was rocking his own hips as if he was already partnered up with her on the dance floor.
She’s the one, he decided as his erection stretched down one side of his leg.
Jeremy didn’t immediately bounce up out of his chair. Instead, he spent a good deal of time itemizing a mental list of all the things he wanted to do to her—some were illegal in twelve states.
His gaze finally inched upward, but she was moving and grooving so much that it actually took a moment before she finally turned so that he could see her face. When she turned, Jeremy’s heart stopped.
At least, that’s what it felt like—because there was suddenly an unbelievable pain in his chest. Baby Girl had the face of an angel, with round, doll-like eyes, big-apple cheeks and a pair of incredibly shapely, full lips that reminded him of the singer Angie Stone. He loved a nice set of lips.
Suddenly, a brother pulled up all onto her bumper, and jealousy stabbed him so hard