Succubus Soccer Mom: A Reverse Harem Tale Read online

  SUCCUBUS SOCCER MOM

  A Reverse Harem Tale

  by

  Jacquelyn Faye

  SUCCUBUS SOCCER MOM

  A Reverse Harem Tale

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright © 2020 by Jacquelyn Faye

  Cover Design © 2020 by HarleyQuinn Zaler at HQ Artwork

  All rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Untold Press LLC

  114 NE Estia Lane

  Port St Lucie, FL 34983

  www.untoldpress.com

  PRODUCED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  Dedication

  For Namihei Odaira

  Founder of Hitachi

  You know what you did

  You glorious bastard

  Prologue

  "Fucking snail trails. Seriously?" My lip curled as I sneered in disgust at the brass pole rising up from the stage and disappearing into the blackness of the industrial ceiling above. 'Sinamon' forgot to wipe down the pole after her last dance, and the bitch got seriously turned on dancing in front of large crowds. Friday nights at Full Exposure drew in vast amounts of horn-dogs, pervs, jocks, businessmen, bi-curious housewives, and hardcore lesbians. Some of them were manlier than the guys in suits that came and dropped portions of their kids' college tuition just to see a girl spread eagled in a G-string.

  Well, one thing was for damn certain, I wasn't going to be pressing my hoo-ha against the slimy brass without disinfectant. Reaching up, I upended my bottle of 151 rum against it, let it dribble down, pulled my lighter out of the pocket I'd had specially sewn into the center of my studded red leather bra, and lit that bitch up.

  Alcohol burns off quickly, but the blue flames were kind of pretty, and I watched for a second before leaping on and spinning amid the flames. The audience gave a collective gasp, and Ginger, the owner of our fine establishment, slammed her drink down against the bar. She had warned me about showing off, and while demons couldn't contract sexually transmitted diseases…the thought of slipping off the pole mid-dance because of some over juiced skank hag didn't seem all that appealing either. It's not like I set the stage on fire.

  I held on with my legs and dropped backward, back slamming against the pole, my face a foot off the black painted plywood beneath me. I must have used too much rum. The stage was, in fact, on fire. Not enough for the wood to catch, but enough to be a safety concern. For the humans in the bar, not the pole dancing demon smiling as the flames licked her face like a sensuous lover.

  The DJ let half the song play while I danced in the flames, slowly lowering the volume. I ended the song with a flip off the pole, and my feet landed just as the flames dwindled down and the music stopped, my heels thudding loudly.

  "Are you ready to see this flaming beauty get naked, boys and girls?"

  I leaned back against the pole as the DJ's words settled over the crowd, and their thunderous response made my ears ring. Chuckling, I popped the clasp on the front of my bra and leaned forward, letting it fall off my shoulders and onto the floor behind me. Kicking it back to the DJ, I slipped my fingers in the waist of my matching panties as the heavy bass of Dragula started pounding from the stage speakers.

  The guys sitting in the booths surrounding the stage surged forward, clamoring over each other to offer me their little green bills and lustful gazes. Ignoring them, I closed my eyes and shifted my panties, one side off my hip, before pulling them up tightly against me as the opening riff of the song exploded.

  The rest of my dance became a blur as I got what I really came for. Their lust. As they showered me in bills, I fed off them like a Golden Corral buffet. The suits, the nerds, the geeks, the pervs… They all had different flavors, and with that much lust in the air, I didn't need to touch them to feed. They were launching it at me like dollar bills.

  My climax started to build, and I had to concentrate to keep it at bay. Some of them might not have survived the experience, and the song was ending soon. I bent over in front of the pole and let my leather covered crotch slide down the pole to edge myself, but when I looked up, my eyes met his.

  The rest of the bar faded away as he became my sole focus for the moment. Sure, there had been guys that caught my eye in the past, but not like that. Not like him. He was close to six feet, not overly muscled, not a jock. He wasn't dressed in a suit, either. His build was medium, giving him a look like he wasn't a stranger to hard work, but that he wasn't into body building. In a word, perfect. But my gaze wasn't fastened to his body, but locked onto his eyes. He was as human as they came, but his eyes were magic. At least in appearance. Pools of blue floating in the smoky shadows of a strip club in Orlando.

  Not breaking eye contact, he moved a little closer to the stage, offering me a dollar embarrassedly, like his friends had put him up to it. His stubbled face hadn't seen a razor in days, and the image of his cheeks sliding against my thighs made me smile as I strutted toward him.

  He was mesmerized as I sat down in front of him, spreading my legs with hands on my knees. "Is that for me?" I looked at the bill in his fingers and then at his crotch, which I swear swelled as he took in every inch of my body.

  "Do you want it?" He didn't sound too sure.

  "Yes. Please," I cooed the last word.

  A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face, sliding over his perfect skin, and getting lost in the beard he was trying to grow. "Where?"

  How I heard him over the music was no mystery. I could hear mice fucking in the walls over the music. The fact he could hear me at all was. "Well, I don't have any pockets. You can stick it in my panties if you want."

  His cheeks flushed, and he nodded, looking down at the red leathered gates to glory. With a trembling hand, he reached for the strap on the side, just above my hip, until I opened my legs and nudged his hand away with my knee.

  "Not there." I reached down. When guys tried to hand me money, I usually ignored them. A few of the tastier ones that I had an interest in feeding on later, I let slide fives and tens into my waist. I'd never offered the front of them to anyone…ever. There was just something about the guy in front of me that told me I could trust him. "Here," I whispered, peeling the front of my panties away from my flesh.

  He couldn't see anything, it wasn't legal for us to expose our lower extremities where alcohol was served, but the guys to his left might have gotten a peek.

  The bill quivered as he stuck the corner in, brushing over my pubic hair and sending goosebumps over my legs. I cooed softly and grabbed his wrist. "It will fall out if you don't put it in all the way." I let my fingers trail down over his hand and grabbed the base of his fingers, sliding them into my panties. His knuckles grazed my lips and my lust flared at his touch.

  "Would you like a dance after my set?"

  He just nodded.

  "I'll come find you…"

  I pulled his hand free and rolled backward in a reverse somersault, landing on my feet and flinging my hair back as I stood. It was only then did I realize the song was over.

  So that's how he heard me.

  "Everybody, give it up for Kara!"

  I bowed as the applause exploded through the room.

  Scooping up most of the bills left on the stage for me, I headed for the stairs, stopping by the DJ booth and swiping my bra from the floor
.

  Sage was coming up at the same time, and I hugged my back to the wall to let her pass. "Holy fuck, Kara. That was hot. And I ain't talkin' bout the fire!"

  "Shit. I forgot about that. Ginger's gonna kill me."

  "Her star performer? I don't think so!" She flicked my nipple as she passed, laughing as she stepped on the stage.

  "Bitch!" I couldn't help but chuckle. As far as humans went, Sage was one of my favorites.

  Slipping back into my bra, I stepped out from the stage entrance and made my rounds, collecting tips from the guys too lazy to walk up to the stage. That was my excuse for traversing the whole bar in search of blue eyes.

  I found him at the bar, leaning back against it on his stool, surrounded by guys nearly twice his age. His eyes were like beacons in the fog, and I stopped collecting tips when I found him.

  "Hi," he said shyly as I walked up.

  "Hey, yourself. Did you enjoy the show?"

  The guys around him made appreciative noises, but I ignored them, focusing on him. He silenced them with a glare and then smiled up at me. "This is my first time at a club like this."

  "Disappointed or surprised?"

  "The former before I saw you dance, the latter after…" He blushed and rubbed the backs of his fingers absentmindedly over his lips. The same fingers that had just caressed my pussy on stage.

  His eyes glazed a little when he caught my scent on his knuckles. A side effect of succubus pheromones, but there was still clarity there, too. The lights were on, he was home, but it was like he was watching a movie. Probably about a stripper.

  "Buy me a drink?"

  "I'd love to," he answered, and one of his friends got up and moved over to the other side of the group, letting me have his stool without me having to glare at him. A gentleman.

  I sat down and turned away from the bar, facing the stage like my new friend was. I was watching Sage, he was watching me. I could feel his eyes on me like glue.

  "What you want to drink, Kara?" The bartender asked in her gruff voice.

  "Why do you even ask, Clove?"

  A bottle of rum slammed down on the thickly lacquered bar top. I reached over my shoulder and grabbed it, twisting the top and clinking it against the neck of the beer bottle my new friend was holding.

  "Cheers," he said with a small chuckle.

  "Nostrovia!"

  "Are you Russian?"

  "Nope. Not that I know of. Orphan, so my lineage has always been questionable." I winked at him, earning myself another sexy little chuckle. He really was too damn cute for his own good. If he wasn't careful, I was going to eat him up. "What's your name?"

  "Ryan."

  "Huh. That's a cute name."

  "And you're Kara."

  I nodded, taking another swig of rum.

  "So… How much is that bottle gonna cost me?" He didn't seem to care, just struggling to converse with a stripper.

  "Tell you what, you buy a lap dance, and I'll buy my own drink." Truth be told, I didn't need the money and when he'd asked to buy me a drink, I'd just ordered without thinking. The bar would have charged him a hundred bucks for a whole bottle of shit rum. I could afford it. He looked like he worked at Home Depot.

  "That sounds like quite a bargain." He grinned and took another sip of beer. "Tell you what, make it two lap dances. I didn't see anybody else in here I'd rather break my strip bar cherry with."

  I froze mid sip. "This is seriously the first time you've ever been in a titty bar?"

  "Yep."

  "Virgin," I whispered, practically salivating. It was time to have some fun.

  "Well, to titty bars, yes." He even fucking blushed.

  I turned around and set my bottle behind the bar. "Be back in a bit, Clove."

  "Okay." Clove used to be one of the top dancers, until she took a nasty spill off the pole. She started bartending while the leg healed. That was three years ago. Personally, I think she was glad to be out of the game, and her gruff nature made her the perfect bartender.

  I grabbed Ryan's hand and hauled him to his feet. "C'mon. Let's go get you all turned on and stuff."

  "Going to take more than a couple of lap dances…"

  I took that as a personal challenge. A devious smile plastered itself to my lips on the way to the private dance area.

  "So, can't help but notice all the girls use spices as their stage names. Is Kara a spice I don't know about?"

  "Hey, Rocco," I greeted the bouncer outside the booths. "We'll be a bit."

  "Keep it clean, Kara."

  "You know me."

  "That's what I'm afraid of." He chuckled and opened the velvet rope, letting us in.

  I turned and looked at Ryan as I led him to my usual booth in the corner. "No. The place is owned by Ginger," I finally answered. "When the girls chose their stage names, they went with other spices. It kind of became a tradition."

  "You chose Kara?"

  I stopped in front of the booth and pressed myself against him, leaning up to his ear and giving the lobe a tiny lick. "I'm not some bitch who's afraid of what she does. Therefore, I don't use a stage name. Kara Day." I held out my hand.

  "You really just told me your actual name? What if I was a stalker or something?"

  I grinned at him and gave him an evil look. "Then, I'd have to eat you."

  He gulped. "I'm not, though."

  "Didn't think so. I can smell a creep from fifty yards away."

  "I'm a teacher."

  "Teacher?"

  "High school. English."

  "No shit."

  He nodded.

  I backed him up against the booth, pushed him gently onto it, and straddled his thighs. "You know how these dances work?"

  "No?"

  "It's simple. I take my top off and rub all over you with my body. Where and how long is up to me. See that camera over my shoulder?"

  He glanced up at the ceiling and nodded.

  "There's guys watching everything in here, so you're not allowed to touch me. I'm sorry. Good rule of thumb is to keep your hands on your seat unless I pick them up. Okay?"

  Again, he nodded.

  "The next song is about to begin. That's when the fun starts," I said, and unhooked my bra, tossing it on top of the booth behind him.

  I probably could have sat like that for the duration of the two songs and he would have been happy. As soon as the ladies were free of their red leather confinement, he was hooked.

  "You like them?"

  "Very much." He nodded and didn't take his eyes off them, except to look up and flash me a smile.

  "Men and titties."

  "Yeah." He blushed as he finally met my eyes for a moment.

  The song faded, and the next started. It was Nickelback, the group everybody loved to hate but sang along and knew every word by heart. I really dug them. Especially “Something in Your Mouth.” That song was made for lap dancing.

  I stood and turned around, laying my back against him and spreading my legs over his, letting my hands roam my body as I ground my ass against his lap.

  "Fuck, you smell good."

  "I get that a lot." I grinned at him and turned my face to rub my cheek against his, the smell of arousal wafting from his skin. My leather underpants were about to become very slippery. I gave a throaty laugh and arched my back, pressing my ass against his rapidly hardening cock. "So much for not getting turned on by a little old dance."

  "It's not the dance, it's the dancer."

  That earned him a treat. I rolled over, my stomach pressing against his as the hardness in his jeans pressed against my clit. I spread my legs over his and bucked my hips, giving him a little friction as I grazed his lips with my teeth.

  "You're so hard."

  He nodded, blushed, and looked away.

  "No. Don't be embarrassed. That's the ultimate compliment."

  "You must get a lot of compliments."

  His wit surprised me. There was much more to Mr. Ryan than shy good looks and amazing eyes. "None that have been
as sweet as yours."

  "We're still talking about compliments, right?"

  Blocking the camera with my body, I ran my hand over his cock. "Yes. Ultimate ones."

  "I'm sure you get this a lot, but I just have to tell you. You are so goddamn beautiful. I don't know if I'm going to last two songs…"

  "If you can't, don't worry about it. You wouldn't be the first guy to walk out of here with a wet spot."

  "Spot? I'm thinking more like a splatch."

  "Wanna know a little secret?" I lifted myself off him and let my breasts lightly slide over his face.

  "What?"

  "I'm so wet right now I could probably put out a small housefire."

  He chuckled. "That's pretty wet."

  "You don't sound like you believe me, Ryan…"

  "If an exotic dancer got wet from every lap dance she gave, we would be up to our ankles in…" He trailed off, too embarrassed to say it.

  "Pussy juice?"

  "Yeah." He blushed.

  "Put your hands on your knees," I whispered as I rubbed against him."

  "You said–"

  "And now I'm saying different." I bit my lip shyly.

  His hands slid up from the pleather and settled on his knees. Turning toward the camera, I bent over, sliding my hands down my stomach and moving my panties to the side as I turned around. When I settled on his leg, the back of his hand was pressed against my lips. "See?"

  He nodded, mesmerized as I slid back and forth across his hand.

  "Do you like that?"

  "I'm going to come."

  "Can't have that now, can we? Not yet." I slid down his leg and dropped to my knees. Turning back to face him, I spread his legs and pressed my chest against him. Deftly, I ran my hands up his chest and back down before sliding over his legs. My hand unzipped his zipper before moving on. On the upstroke, I fished him out of his pants. He was staring at me incredulously. "See? Quick and easy."

  "How much practice have you had?"

  "That's not a question you ask a lady."