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French Kiss

By Missy Lyons


Sarafina didn't want a serious relationship after catching her fiance in bed with another woman. Ladies Night at an exclusive Parisian nightclub provided just the distraction she needed, where her every fantasy is catered to.

Later, she comes home to find her apartment ransacked, and someone wants her dead. Caught up in a dangerous game of life and death, she needs her two new lovers for more than protection, but can she submit to two men?



It wasn’t long before the lights grew dim. The emcee came onto the raised dais dressed in an expensive suit with a silk button-down shirt. He explained the rules of the strippers, “You can look, but you can’t touch beneath the briefs without permission.” As if the women wouldn’t be able to control themselves. These men had to be some pretty hunky beefcakes to get those strict ‘no-touch’ rules.

The first male stripper did not disappoint. He was hotter than a five alarm fire. He was clearly enjoying himself, showing off with a few pelvic thrusts, and poses meant to show off his muscular frame. Teasing and torturing, he wiggled his round butt at the audience before sending everyone a wicked grin.

In one graceful motion, he ripped off his shirt, revealing his well-muscled chest. Damn, the man was big. He had to lift weights in his spare time. He flexed his pectorals, posing for the ladies, revealing just how large he was. Even with his pants on, everyone could see he was packing a hard-on.

Sarafina’s eyes were glued to his package. Mr. Fireman was exceptionally large. Everywhere.

Suddenly he was near naked after ripping his pants off, which left him standing in a set of red bikini briefs, a fireman’s hat, and a pair of black boots. Every move he made was to seduce, sexual in nature. Her breath caught in her throat as she imagined his body against hers, and a wave of heat knocked her temperature up a notch.

Every lady in the room was screaming for his attention, and he favored those who had dollar bills waving in the air. They took turns placing some bills in his bikini.

Another stripper joined him on stage. Dressed as a cop, he was dark skinned and handsome, waving a set of handcuffs in the air. Loud sirens overrode the music as he handcuffed the man. The announcer explained that the fireman was in trouble for indecent public exposure.

“Boo!” The ladies didn’t seem too pleased to watch the cop pick up the uniform and begin to mockingly cover up their sexy fireman. The fireman fought playfully, bumping and grinding against the cop. The crowd only grew rowdier, waving their hands in the air, and encouraging the display.

The fireman helped the cop to undress, undoing the buttons on his shirt, despite the cop’s hands slapping at him. The close to naked fireman stopped his struggling by putting his cuffed hands over his shoulders and kissing him. It was unexpected. Steamy. H.O.T. Just watching the two men French kiss was sending liquid fire through Sarafina’s veins.

That heated things up considerably. Within minutes, the cop was just as naked, dressed only in a black bikini with a gold star on the butt. Stealthy as a thief in the night, the fireman used the opportunity to steal the key from his uniform to unlock his cuffs.

Sarafina was content to watch the fun, but her friend Kristen had different ideas. Kristen waved a twenty over Sarafina’s head and by the time Sarafina caught on, it was too late. Mr. Fireman was right in front of her, aiming a seductive smile directly at Sarafina. The cop continued to dance for the rest of the crowd, keeping them all entertained.

Mr. Firefighter was even sexier up close. Shivers of awareness danced across her skin. He was practically in her lap, so close she could make out the fine trail of hair leading from his belly button to his treasure. Under the harsh light of the club, he had a light sheen of perspiration over his skin, a single drop rolled down his chest, and she was tempted to lick it off.

Lick? If she couldn’t touch him, how much trouble would she get in for tasting him? She had to suppress a giggle. Only inches from his manhood, she was tempted to do a little more than taste.

He treated her like every other woman in the room, giving her personal attention so long as her money lasted, until he seemed to notice the red flash of her garter belt.

She had to make a conscious effort to look up. Look at his face, not his body parts. He was still too male to ignore.

“First time here, huh?” It was a whisper meant only for her ears.

God. How embarrassing. He must have realized she was new because she couldn’t take her eyes off the package he sported. She tore her eyes off his red bikini, using an incredibly heroic effort to meet his eyes.

Stunned, she asked, “How’d you guess?”

With a wicked grin, he picked up one high-heeled foot and kissed the inset of her ankle. “You have something of mine. “ His fingers slipped down the length of her leg, and crept under the garter belt, pulling it away and then letting it snap back in place.

“It’s not my fault. The bouncer gave it to me.”

“Then you won’t mind if I take it back.” He teased her inner thigh, tracing tiny circles with the tips of his fingers.