Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
I rolled my eyes and snorted. “Set them up.”
Cassie bounced up and down again, and Pepper’s eyes cut to the good stuff—my wife’s fucking tits.
“Now!” I commanded sharply.
Jerking his eyes away from my babies, he jumped into action and grabbed a couple pitchers from the top of the bar to start filling them with water from the tap. I kind of hoped it wasn’t too cold, but from my experience with wet T-shirt contests, that was kind of the point. The colder the water, the tighter the nipples peaked.
Old Pepper just didn’t know that my nipples would be the ones he was turning into ice picks.
And to be honest, I kind of delighted in that fact.
If Cassie didn’t see the need to tell him, neither did I. He’d find out when I got up there and started swinging my dick around like a helicopter.
Cassie clapped her hands together and followed along as Pepper left the back of the bar and carried the jugs of water up onto the stage. There was already a stool up there in the back, and he brought it forward to create a little setup with a vase and a couple cheap flowers too.
He was really pulling all out the stops, and I’d be sure to tell him thanks after I shimmied my nads in his face.
“Any kind of playlist in particular you have in mind, sweetheart?” he asked my wife, shaking his hips playfully. Oh man, Pepper sure was going to be disappointed, and I could not wait.
Cassie glanced back at me and chewed on her lip, and I tilted my head to the side. The pregnancy hormones really must have been throwing her off, because in my book, I would have thought there could only be one option for us.
Finally, it hit her, and we said the name together in sync. “Britney.”
I winked at her. She giggled.
“The best Britney Spears playlist you’ve got,” Cassie elaborated for Pepper, and he smirked.
“I think I’ve got just the ticket.”
He hopped off the stage quickly, running over to the stereo system and setting it to play. I escorted Cassie to a table in the front, as close to the stage as possible, and “I’m a Slave 4 U” played its first chords as I settled her into a chair.
I glanced down at the white T-shirt and shortie shorts she’d set me up with this morning and laughed. “You’ve been planning this all day, haven’t you? That’s why you made me wear this.”
She nodded excitedly. “Pretty great, huh?”
I shook my head but leaned forward and took her mouth with mine. I was just glad she had so many good qualities because holy hell, my wife was crazier than most.
“I better hear you cheering,” I told her before winking and jumping up on the stage. Pepper, just returning from the stereo, looked up at our positions in confusion.
I smiled at him and hooked a big, beefy thumb into my chest. “Oh, by the way. I’ll be the one competing. My wife prefers to watch.”
Pepper’s eyes widened and his cheeks reddened, and he took off for the back of the restaurant like he was going to lose more lunch than he’d made today. I laughed, and Cassie joined in immediately.
“He thought I was gonna wet my shirt?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course he did.”
“Oh man,” she said. “That’s pretty good.”
I nodded. “Okay now, settle down and let me work. I’ve got the performance of my lifetime to give.”
“That’s right, Daddy,” Cassie agreed. “Show me how it’s done.”
Apparently, Pepper’s Britney selection pretty much equated to all of her greatest fluffing hits, and what I’d thought would be one, singular dance for my “wet T-shirt show” had turned into a goddamn Spears marathon.
And all of it occurred with Cassie sitting in the front row, the one and only spectator, cheering me on.
I’d thrust my hips to “I’m A Slave 4 U.”
I’d shook my pecs to “Womanizer” while I dumped an entire pitcher of water over my body.
And now, with “Toxic” providing the soundtrack to my current dance and my thighs starting to burn like I’d just finished up leg day at the gym, I knew this needed to be my big finale.
“Come on, T-bag,” Cass hollered between her cupped hands. “Shake those chesticles for me!”
I shimmied and shook and poured another pitcher of water over my head, and Cassie screamed and whooped like I was the second coming of Christ.
Thrusting my hips forward, I dropped my knees to the stage and pulled the carnation I’d tossed aside earlier through my mouth and presented my claws like a cat.
This was the sort of thing my buddies Kline Brooks and Wes Lancaster would come in their panties over, if they had the chance to make a recording for posterity. And trust me, I knew Cassie wasn’t above making a recording of her own to send to them. It was a large part of the reason I made sure to confiscate her phone before agreeing to get down and dirty for her.