Taunt (A Miami Lust Novella Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - Dante

  Chapter 2 – Ava

  Chapter 3 – Dante

  Chapter 4 – Ava

  Chapter 5 – Dante

  Chapter 6 – Ava

  Chapter 7 – Dante

  Chapter 8 – Ava

  Chapter 9 – Dante

  Chapter 10 – Ava

  Chapter 11 – Dante

  Chapter 12 – Ava

  Chapter 13 – Dante

  Chapter 14 – Ava

  Epilogue - Dante

  Final Epilogue - The Solis Family

  Taunt

  taunt

  / tônt /

  Verb

  To challenge, provoke or tease.

  synonyms:

  bully, fool, goad, jest, to kid, razz

  © 2017 C.M. Lally

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express consent of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations for the purpose of reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events or incidents are products of the authors imagination and used in a fictitious manger. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental or fictionalized.

  Cover by: Amanda Walker PA and Design Services

  Acknowledgements

  There are so many people to thank I know that I’m going to forget someone, so I apologize in advance.

  I really need to thank my family for letting me barricade myself away from them to write yet another book. I know we travel this journey together, and I’m so grateful that you’re with me. I love you with all my heart.

  To the authors who encouraged me every day to tell the story in my voice. I sincerely thank you for your friendship, your mentorship, answering my countless questions, and simply supporting me: Abby Brooks, Alison Claire, Alison Ryan, Fifi Flowers, Frankie Love, Heidi Hutchinson, K. G. Reuss, Lyssa Cole, and Vivian Ward. You are an amazing set of women and I am honored to call you my friends!

  To my Cover Designer, Amanda Walker: You make me a better author all ‘round. You’ve become an amazing friend, a great source of inspiration, a mentor, and a shoulder to cry on when I fall apart with stress! I love you dearly! Don’t ever change your ‘Simon Cowell’ ways.

  To the great group of women in the following Facebook groups: The A-Team, Abby’s Angels, Book Boyfriend Central, Lyssa’s Lustful Beauties, Vivian’s Voyeur’s, and C.M. Lally’s Wicked Playground – you are simply amazing!

  To my Alpha readers: You bring sanity and glory to an otherwise chaotic and messy process. I adore you and would not be the writer I am today without your feedback! From the deepest recesses of this heart, I have so much love for you...it overflows.

  To CandyC17, I adore our conversations. You have such an open heart and an amazing mind. No wonder everyone who knows you loves you. You are one of the strongest and bravest women I know. You lift me up by inspiring me and encouraging me. I’m a better and luckier woman for having met you. Thanks for sharing your LuLaRoe with me, or as my son says “my crazy pants!”

  And finally to my best friend, Heidi – life is messy and rough and sometimes uncompromising, but I know I always have you to help piece together the insanity with the perfect.gif or meme. I love you, Sunshine!

  Contents

  Taunt

  Acknowledgements

  Introduction - Dante

  Chapter 1 - Dante

  Chapter 2 – Ava

  Chapter 3 – Dante

  Chapter 4 – Ava

  Chapter 5 – Dante

  Chapter 6 – Ava

  Chapter 7 – Dante

  Chapter 8 – Ava

  Chapter 9 – Dante

  Chapter 10 – Ava

  Chapter 11 – Dante

  Chapter 12 – Ava

  Chapter 13 – Dante

  Chapter 14 – Ava

  Epilogue - Dante

  Final Epilogue - The Solis Family

  Thiago (& Brooke)

  Mateo (& Cassee)

  Dante (& Ava)

  About the Author

  Also by C.M. Lally

  Introduction - Dante

  “LEESA, STAY BENT OVER and flatten out lower onto the desk. Now stretch your calves a little higher,” I instruct and she does exactly what I say. “There you go, sweetheart. Feel that? I’m deeper now. I should be hitting your G-spot. Does it feel good?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, Dante! You’re hittin’ it,” she squeals between deep gulps of air. “Jesus, Dante. Harder. Fuck me harder.”

  “Babe, I can’t if you keep sliding down on me. Stand up straight,” I command.

  “I’m sorry. My legs are weak. I’ve already had three orgasms. Aren’t you ever going to come?” she whines.

  “I’ll come when I feel like I’ve given you my best and not a minute sooner,” I explain. “If you want to keep coming in here, you need to get stronger. I want you on some kind of workout program. At least two leg days a week, and one of those needs to incorporate a booty program. Okay?” I say, slapping her on the ass for emphasis.

  “Yes, Sir,” she groans, but I can barely hear her with her face buried down into the sleeve of her shirt.

  “Now, grip the desk tighter,” I command. “You’re too weak to continue and I’ve got an appointment arriving in a few minutes.”

  I watch her inch her fingers forward and wrap around the edge of the desk. She grips it so tight, her knuckles are already starting to discolor and turn white. I grip her hips tighter after wiping off the sweat from my palms on my shirt tail. She’s already made me work harder for my release than I wanted to.

  My hips thrust forward in continuous motion; my dick pounds into her tight pussy over and over until I’m balls deep into her. They’re bouncing off her tight pussy so hard; they’re leaving red spank marks. My lower back starts to tingle and my balls tighten up momentarily.

  “Get ready babe, here it comes,” I warn her two seconds before I spew forth into the condom. I don’t like to stroke it back and forth too often after I orgasm because I’m too afraid of accidents. Baby accidents do happen. Once I feel that last spurt, my thrust is done and withdrawal is imminent.

  And that’s the way you do it, I think to myself, tying up the condom and pitching it towards the trash for a three-point shot. Both of my brothers have lost their fuckin’ minds. They’ve both gone and fallen in love, having completely missed the beauty of working in this industry - FREE pussy by the truckload.

  You see, my brothers’ and I own The Glass Stripper, the newest and hottest strip club in Miami, Florida. There are drop-dead gorgeous women here at the stretch of your hand. If they aren’t employed by us, they pay to come in and party with us. It’s a perfect job for a twenty-three year old college graduate to have. I’m debt free and loving my life.

  But I’m also a jaded man. We all are. We were raised in the sex industry in seedy New York City. Our dad was the kingpin of sex for hire in the city that never sleeps. Unfortunately, sex for hire is illegal in this country and now, he’s doing twenty years to life in prison back home in New York.

  Thiago ran a strip club for him, while Mateo was in charge of the entertainment and I mainly helped with the money. I didn’t get too involved with my dad’s scheming ways. He mainly let me count the money and put it in the safe. I was in “training” as he used to call it. (Technically, I was too young to be in the clubs at eighteen, and was only allowed inside before business hours.)

  I’ve got a brain for numbers. A “gift” from God my mama used to say. Dad recognized it and wanted to put it to good use. After many arguments between him and my mom over my future, he ga
ve in and shipped me off to college. Thiago was so happy about that. “We might as well save one Solis soul if we can,” was his mantra.

  Anyway, after the scandal fiasco, we skipped town to save face and decided we wanted heat and tanned bodies in our lives. I drew the long straw, so I closed my eyes and pointed my finger straight to Miami, Florida. Yeah, it didn’t quite happen that way. One eye might have been a little open. (I didn’t want to end up in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico).

  We found The Glass Stripper for sale a few days after our arrival and knew it was meant to be. That’s not her original name, but the one we chose. She was an old bank with lots of potential, but we knew she was something much more exciting. She’s three stories of one-way mirrors with each open floor being distinct from the other. We connected them all with winding staircases to personalize each floor but maintain the main theme.

  She’s gorgeous and perfect. She was a steal in the Realty markets here in Dade County. At nine months old, she’s already the hottest lady on the strip, and she’s doubled in value. Not many ladies can say that as they near their first birthday. She’s decked out in sexy neon lights and draped in gem-colored silks. When you’re inside, you can see outside to the street, but no one can see inside until you enter the doors. Mateo likes to say it gives off that sense of “voyeurism” that kicks your lust up a notch. I’d agree with that. She’s h-o-t and she’ll definitely make your dick hard.

  Chapter 1 - Dante

  COMING OUT OF MY OFFICE and heading towards the bar, I pass Perry. We both nod to each other out of respect, but he carries that look on his face that reminds me I’m still a kid in his eyes. He’s an older gentleman, but he’s got a well-built body of a 30-year old. Those biceps have to be at least 21” in diameter. He’s our head of security, and is the assigned guard near the private rooms; Thiago brought him with us from New York touting his trustworthiness.

  As he gets closer to me, he raises his hand pointing at me, “Don’t forget the new guy starts tonight. I’ve got him coming in at 6:00 pm to complete all the paperwork,” he groans. I don’t know if that groan is in regards to the new guy he hired or the menial tasks of filling out payroll, confidentiality and waiver shit.

  “I won’t forget. I’m on it,” and smile wide before passing him by.

  I walk the main floor, and take a seat at the bar next to Mat. He’s on the phone planning his afternoon date with Cassee. He glares at me from the corner of his eye like I interrupted something very private, but I don’t give a shit. I’m waiting on my appointment to arrive, and whistle down to the bartender.

  “Tito, can I get a Summer Edition Red Bull?” I ask.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Solis,” he says and heads to the cooler. He pops the top of the can for me, and sets it front and center on a napkin, not that I need one but I know it’s a habit for all bartenders, the good ones anyway.

  “Okay, Sunshine. I’ll pick you up at 4:00 pm. That should get us there before traffic picks up. See you then. Love you,” Mat says into the phone, not even attempting to whisper the words in front of me.

  “So, you’re exchanging “I love you’s” now?” I ask. “What’s next? When does she move into your apartment in the back? Next month?” I set my can down on the edge of the bar a little too hard and it begins to tip over, but I catch it spilling just a sip onto my fingers.

  “Yes, I love her,” he responds, looking me directly in the eyes. There is a clarity in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. ”No, I’m not afraid to say it, even in front of you, Asshole. And not that it’s any of your business, but she’s decided to continue living in her grandparents’ condo. She has to go to the attorney’s office this afternoon and get that all straightened out before the next mortgage payment is due.”

  “So, you’re adulting now? What’s that like?” I ask jokingly. Mateo’s always been my partner in crime, especially crimes against Thiago, our older brother and resident father-figure.

  “It’s actually quite nice. I like it. You know, you should give it a try,” he suggests, standing and chuckling under his breath. He swats down at the bill of my hat, pushing it down tighter onto my forehead before walking away.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” I holler, pulling my hat off my head and studying it, making sure he didn’t crease it.

  “I beg your pardon. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” I hear a female voice next to me say. I look up and come face to face with the clearest complexion I’ve ever seen. Her skin is glowing. I know that seems like a weird thing to notice, but it’s flawless. There isn’t one single freckle in sight, or blackhead for that matter. Hell, she doesn’t even have any dark circles. Her pores are small and...shit, I’m mesmerized by her skin tone. It’s not pale or golden, or even olive. I don’t know how to freakin’ describe it except to say it’s perfection.

  “Um, no I don’t. I haven’t kissed my mother in several years. She’s deceased,” I blurt out to this stranger, not sure why I feel the need to do so.

  She gasps and slumps her shoulders. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, and I’m sorry for bringing it up. Cursing is a major pet peeve of mine. There are better words to use, and it seems to me like a form of laziness,” she admits.

  Suddenly, I feel like I’m back in school and I’m being berated by one of my professor’s who expects more from me.

  “I’m Dante Solis, the CFO here at The Glass Stripper,” I say, holding out my hand to shake hers. “And you are?”

  “I’m Ava Kimball,” she smiles enthusiastically and shakes my hand just as eagerly as she smiles.

  “You’re my 1:00 appointment, right?” I ask, leaning back in the stool and taking her in completely. She’s petite, especially in those gladiator sandals she’s wearing. The T-shirt dress she’s wearing hugs every curve of her body and it’s definitely got me wondering what her skin looks like underneath it all.

  “Yes, I am. Would you like to go to your office or continue our meeting here?” she asks.

  “Would you like a drink first?” I ask, noting that she’d already caught a glimpse of my drink. She’s probably wondering if I’m going to conduct business under the influence of alcohol.

  “Just water, please,” she says, and Tito gets it for her quickly.

  “Let’s go find a quiet booth to sit and talk. That’s usually where I conduct meetings,” I say, standing and leading her towards one of the rounded booths on the far side of the dance floor.

  She sits first, and slides into the booth settling in the center. I wait until she’s seated and slide in next to her. “So, please refresh my memory, Ava. What did you want to discuss with me?” I ask. I watch her fiddle with the coaster that she set her glass down on. She straightens it ever so slightly to align it precisely with the edge of the table, which aligns with the dance floor.

  “I’m in the marketing department for WHOT, the radio station across the street,” she explains. “We did a few promo spots for you a few weeks back when you unveiled your recent bar renovations. We’d like to do more in regards to promotions, and forge a closer relationship with The Glass Stripper. How does that sound?”

  “Well, personally, I thought the rates were too high for the little bit of promo that we got,” I watch her mouth fall open and her eyes narrow. Apparently I just hit a sore spot.

  “Little bit of promo? Rates too high?” she asks, her voice a little higher than before. “I put that rate package together and trust me when I tell you it was a fair package deal.”

  “Your DJ was here for two hours, went live four times - every thirty minutes or so for about a minute each time, and only did two giveaways,” I clarify, trying to remain calm, but now she’s got me all in my head with numbers bouncing off my brain and I hate that feeling. It gives me a headache. “All of that for the hefty sum of $500. That’s $250/hour and my dancers don’t even make that with tips.”

  “That’s a fair price for two hours of promotion,” she grumbles aloud. “Maybe you should get better dancers.”

  “Maybe you s
hould give better pricing,” I hiss. “We didn’t even get any social media mentions. That’s a big faux pas in today’s world of mass media marketing. Maybe that’s why your radio station sits at number twelve in the medium market for sales.”

  Her anger is building because she’s holding her glass tightly. Her white knuckles are wrapped around the glass, and her fingertips are purple from exerting pressure on the decorative ridges. I’m surprised it hasn’t broken by now in her hand. She catches the direction of my eyes, and must realize I’m staring in anticipation, because she glides her hand loosely down the glass, leaving tiny streaks through the perspiration with her fingers. She clutches the glass with ease and lifts it to her lips, sipping slowly. I watch fat drops of water drip from the glass and splash down onto the tablecloth.

  “Social media mentions were not part of the deal that I presented,” she states matter-of-factly.

  “So, you’re to blame for this situation?” I question. She flinches slightly, not liking my words. Her shoulders fall and a small sigh escapes her lips. It’s barely audible and I probably wouldn’t have heard it if I wasn’t sitting so close to her.

  “I am not to blame. I’m sure it was a miscommunication,” she stammers. “I’m prepared to fix this and present a new promotions package to you, if you’ll just let me know what you need exactly.”

  “I need more bang for my buck,” I say, chuckling under my breath at the joke I made. “No pun intended, I promise.” She smirks at me, before taking another sip of her water. She knits her eyebrows together, and begins to open her mouth to speak only to close it again. Here we go. She’s going to scold me again, but nothing happens. She doesn’t say a word.

  “C’mon. What were you going to say?” I ask. “You can say it. I bet it was going to be funny.” I elbow her arm that’s lying across the table forming a barrier between us. She instantly raises her eyebrow in question, mocking me. Her lips are pursed tight, but her skin is still gorgeous, especially with the pinkish, irritated color it’s glowing now.