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Curves for the Cage (MMF)

Quick & Sexy Wolves

Etopia Press

Heat Rating: SCORCHING
Word Count: 58,064
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A billionaire werewolf. A champion cage-fighter. A curvy human girl who will bring them to their knees...

Dixie Campbell always wears a smile for the wealthy paranormal shifters she chauffeurs around Las Vegas. But when billionaire alpha Pierre Bouchard and his fighter, Mackey Mackay, arrive for a high-profile shifter MMA tournament, things quickly get off on the wrong foot. Pierre might be handsome as sin, but everything Dixie does seems to irritate him. She much prefers Mackey, the tough-on-the-outside, sweet-on-the-inside, built-for-sex cage fighter. But when the two scorching-hot men share a kiss in front of her, she thinks her fantasies of Mackey are over. Until she learns they're both bisexual. And they like threesomes... Too bad the hot, alpha Pierre seems to hate her guts.

Pierre is in Las Vegas for one reason: to see his lover Mackey win the tournament. Among all the highly ranked wolves, jaguars, and bears, Mackey's favored to win. But Pierre doesn't expect Mackey to start seeing their curvy human chauffeur as his second mate. Even though Pierre and Mackey are bi, they haven't shared a woman in a ménage in over a year. After all, Mackey is his true mate, not some sexy BBW whose incredible curves happen to ignite both their fleeting desires. Even if Pierre can't stop wanting her either.

While Mackey is battling in the cage, Pierre fights to keep Dixie at arm's length. Mackey doesn't need the distraction, and neither does he. An unscrupulous billionaire jaguar shifter has just made a million-dollar bet against Mackey, and the shady jaguars lurking in the shadows make it clear they'll do anything to win. And now, just as things are heating up in the cage, they've set their sights on Dixie...

Reader note: contains m/m/f ménage and hot romance elements, BBW and billionaires, MMA werewolves, and male male love. A complete, stand-alone story with a happily ever after.

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Dixie Campbell’s night had been going just peachy until Pierre Bouchard opened his mouth and insulted her boots.

As a Mirage Confidential chauffeur, she’d been dispatched to pick Mr. Bouchard, a billionaire online transport entrepreneur, and the MMA fighter he was sponsoring and take them to the MGM Grand casino. A big Mixed Martial Arts cage-fighting tournament was happening this weekend in Las Vegas. Mr. Bouchard would be requiring Mirage services the entire weekend of the tournament. She would even get her own room at the casino so she’d be on hand to drive him whenever necessary.

And Pierre Bouchard was a gorgeous chunk of man-candy. His dark, designer suit was filled out by a body she could tell was well muscled and would be delightfully hard as steel if a girl were to run her tongue down the ridges of his abs. Not that she had been thinking anything like that. And if a stray, horny thought had flashed into her brain, that only meant she really needed to get laid.

But it certainly didn’t help that Bouchard had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, with a chiseled jaw and a short, stylish beard. He was classically handsome. Her nipples tightened right along with her core when an unexpected fantasy of the man naked and hard and parting her thighs suddenly shoved its way into her mind. Complete yumgasm. She normally wasn’t given to fantasizing about the wealthy and powerful clients she drove around, but damn, this man had presence. Even more than usual for an alpha werewolf.

All her excitement soured when Bouchard, fresh off his private jet, frowned as he looked her over and asked, “Are pink cowboy boots part of the standard Mirage chauffeur uniform?”

She’d been asked the question plenty of times, but always by someone who seemed charmed by the contrast of her pink cowgirl boots and her dark chauffeur uniform. Mr. Bouchard seemed offended by them. What a great way to start off a working weekend with a client. She could already tell it would be a long one.

Despite his boot-hate, she gave him a bright smile. “Just for me, sir. I like to show a little bit of Vegas flair for visitors.”

He snorted. It was the first time she’d ever had a werewolf snort at her like a horse.

Yes, indeedy. It was quickly shaping up to be a very long weekend.

Because it was standard practice for Mirage drivers to review company portfolios on clients, she knew Pierre Bouchard was an alpha wolf for a new pack in Seattle. The pack was a small one he’d started less than two years prior, but was growing fast. The billionaire alpha wolf had made his fortune creating the popular Social2Drive app and service, competing in the online taxi and app business. Even though it amused her that Bouchard still relied on high-end transportation services like Mirage Confidential instead of his own company taxi service, she knew he was a controversial figure. After that boot comment, she only hoped he was a good tipper to make the weekend worth it. She had a feeling she’d be biting her tongue quite often.

Before either of them could say another word, a very large man moved toward them carrying several huge suitcases, garment bags, and laptop cases. He had to be at least six foot six and sported shoulders wider than a refrigerator. In fact, he was big enough to be a refrigerator dressed in a nice suit. His arm muscles bulged, but the weight of all the things he carried didn’t seem to bother him. His hair was so short it was nearly shaved, and his eyes were quite a pretty shade of blue. She noticed right away that his nose had been broken several times by the slightly crooked look. While he certainly wasn’t unpleasant to stare at, he was no Pierre Bouchard-level handsome. Although he did tower over the other man.

When the big man looked at her, he gave her the sweetest smile. “I like her boots, Pierre.” His voice was a deep rumble with the slightest hint of a Southern accent. Northern Alabama maybe? Tennessee? “It’s different. I always appreciate different.”

Bouchard glanced his way and actually seemed amused. “Mackey, if I’d have known you had a thing for boots, I’d have bought myself a pair years ago.”

“Never too late,” Mackey said, laughing and nudging Pierre. A little nudge from the big guy nearly had the billionaire stumbling off balance.

Dixie felt an instant liking for the big guy who was clearly not a bodyguard and had to be the MMA fighter that Bouchard sponsored. Anyone who liked her boots earned points right off the starting line. Also, he had the body of a god. A big man like that had to have a cock as long as her forearm, right? A cock that got so hard it could pound nails. Or was she forgetting the line between fantasy and reality again?

Screw reality. Fantasy was always more fun anyway.

It took a second for her to shake away her lust-dazed and rambling thoughts. When she did, she realized she still had a job to do and she’d better get on it.

She hurried toward the big man Bouchard had called Mackey. “Here, sir. Let me help with those.”

Mackey smiled gently as he looked down at her. God, he was big. Standing near him was like staring up at some kind of mythical creature…like a frost giant who bench-pressed boulders or something.

He kept the bags out of her reach. “No, ma’am. I truly appreciate the offer, but they are heavy and I don’t mind. Keeps me in shape.”

“Don’t tire yourself out, Mackey,” Bouchard cut in. “You have a bunch of fights to win. Let the help do their job. It’s what we’re paying for.”

Mackey glanced his way and frowned. “Now you just settle down, Pierre. You know a gentleman is always a gentleman, even when he’s rich and in Vegas.”

She grinned up at him, as warm butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach. “He’s right though. It is part of my job.”

“Don’t worry yourself about that. We always pack more than we need anyhow. And by ‘we,’ I mean Pierre. Just show me where to put them.”

Pierre’s expression darkened into a frown. “Excuse me for wanting to look good for your victory.” He glanced at his Rolex. “We should get to the casino soon. We only have a couple more hours to weigh in.”

Dixie led the way to the limo and opened the trunk. Mackey dutifully followed along behind her and loaded the luggage into the limo.

He held out a huge hand to her when he was done. “Name’s Mackey Mackay. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Her brief hesitation was only because his hand was bigger than both of hers, even when placed side by side. But then she cursed herself for a coward and grabbed his hand for a shake. His huge paw enveloped her tiny one. He was very gentle, even though she could sense the great strength in those big hands.

“Pleased to meet you as well,” she replied, unable to help her smile, which was a hundred percent real smile, not one of the necessary “professional” ones she’d been flashing at Bouchard earlier. “Mackey Mackay? That has a nice ring to it.”

He chuckled. The sound was like standing next to the rumbling engine of a semi. “Mama thought it would be easier to spell. I always told her, ‘Mama, I’m big, but I ain’t stupid.’ Then she’d whap me for saying ‘ain’t.’”

That surprised a laugh out of her. She always found men who had a sense of humor to be endlessly sexy…and judging from the bulges beneath his suit, this man had enough muscle to compete in any of those bodybuilding contests.

Which was a whole new level of sexy.

Bouchard cleared his throat dramatically. Crap, the client with the checkbook was waiting. She quickly shut the trunk and hurried around to open the limo door for him. But after she opened and held it while standing at formal attention, he only looked her over again. He paused for so long she began to wonder what his issue was now.

“You’re bigger than our last driver,” Pierre Bouchard said in a clipped voice. He kept his gaze meeting her gaze, but she knew what he was talking about. She was curvy, and her chest was one of the curviest parts of her.

She could have been offended, outraged, hurt, but she only turned the wattage on her smile all the higher. If this jerk thought to shame her about her body just because she came from a long line of bigger, curvier women, he was in for one hell of a surprise. She’d heard it all before. To her, it was water off a duck’s back. And it had been that way, ever since the day in her high school senior year when she’d decided she would never give other people the power to hurt her with words again.

So it was easy to put some return sass in her voice to go along with her smile. “I’m more beautiful than your last driver too, but let’s not hurt her feelings by mentioning it, shall we?”

The big fighter laughed. He slapped Pierre on the back, causing the man to stumble a step. “That’s what you get for being rude. She has a fighter’s spirit. We’re lucky.”

“Perhaps she should get in the ring instead of you. She can wear her boots,” Pierre quipped, smirking at Mackey.

Mackey shrugged at her apologetically. “Travel makes him cranky.” He climbed into the limo, which tilted noticeably on its springs.

Pierre turned to look at her, his gaze narrowing. “I must warn you, Miss…”

“Dixie Campbell. I’m pleased to serve you, sir.”

“Indeed. Dixie, is it?” He glanced at Mackey inside the limo. When he looked at the other man, the expression on his face softened, a warm smile just barely showing on those full lips of his. In that moment, he looked like a regular, movie-star-handsome, nice guy human being. But his look soured again when he turned back to her and he practically growled, “I’m going to warn you…Dixie. I’m hard to please.”

“Well, Mirage Confidential excels at pleasing the hard to please.”

His smirk deepened. “Spare me the marketing shtick. I get enough as it is. Just remember what I said. And get us there on time.” He climbed into the limo.

She shut the door, careful not to slam it. Careful to keep the smile on her face.

She was especially careful not to wish it was already Monday, the tournament over, and the obnoxious Mr. Pierre Bouchard on his way back to Seattle after leaving her a generous tip for all she’d had to endure.

Those kinds of wishes would only get her into trouble. And trouble was exactly what she didn’t need.

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