ACE:Las Vegas Bad Boys(14)

I stand and he lifts me up, higher. My legs wrap his waist, and my skin is on fire as he walks with me in his arms toward a door, which he opens to reveal the suite’s bedroom.

I look at the king-sized bed greedily, knowing I won’t have to wait long. My entire being is so excited to be covered by him. Anxious for his tongue to find its way inside me.

And then his cock can fill me up.

But first, I need to be stretched out a bit.

“Take me on the bed,” I say.

“I thought you wanted me in charge?” he asks, tossing me playfully on the bed. My naked body is splayed before him, and I see a mirrored ceiling above us. I watch as his hands grab my legs and fling them over his shoulders, so that my heat is right up in his face.

“I do. I so do. I just want you in change from down there.” I suppress a giggle, and I know he likes the way I tease, because he starts spreading my pussy lips with his fingers.

As I begin to squirm, he stops, looks right up at me from between my spread legs, and speaks in a deadpan voice.

“You want me to fuck you later, or not? Because I need you to hold nice and still if you want my cock.”

“Oh, you want me to be a nice, good girl now?” I ask.

“I never said anything about being good.”

And then he begins to eat me out, nuzzling his stubble against my thighs just like I had imagined. His tongue finds my clit like they are magnetized. He moves so fast, sucks me so good—I’m moaning, trying my best to stay still, but it is so fucking hard to do, as he works my opening.

Licking my slit, front to back, then back to front, taunting me until I let out a soft groan.

Then he plunges three fingers into me, hard.

Hard.

Harder.

Until it’s a useless fight. My body arches high, my nipples so primed, my ass in the fucking air as he finger-fucks me until I’m left gasping for breath.

He pulls out his hand and licks his fingers before pressing his palm across my stomach. Claiming me with his strength, his hand covers my stomach, and I just want him to cover all of me.

I want his chiseled body against mine.

I want him to take me away in this fantasy come to life.

I want to climb on top of him and ride him until I shake.

I want to climb on top of him until he grabs me at the waist, flips me over, and puts my pussy over his face, so we can suck one another off, together.

I want to climb on top of him until he pulls me off, and presses me against the wall, pounding me with his massive, throbbing cock.

Basically, I just want him to fuck me until I fall.





ACE


I’ve eaten women out before, but I’ve never had pussy that tasted so fucking good.

I know whatever problems Emmy is dealing with in her personal life are far from her mind, because after that finger banging she is smiling like a beautiful, goddamned fool.

“What next?” she asks, breathing hard as I pull her into my lap at the edge of bed, so that she’s straddling me.

I brush her long hair over her shoulder. Her nipples are still perfect and erect. My thumbs circle them, my cock growing harder as she arches her back once again. She really has that move down pat—and the thing about Emmy is, it isn’t a move. It’s like her body is made to get hot and bothered.

Hot for me.

I move a hand down her back, running it over her soft-skinned ass, my fingers grazing her hole, knowing I’ll have her on all fours later.

“What’s next is I make love to you,” I tell her.

She shakes her head, ever so slightly, as if disbelieving me.

“Don’t say it like that,” she says. Her breath is showing me she’s hot and ready, but her words tell me she’s holding back.

Which, I mean, I fucking get it. I’ve never been like this before.

Make love? Who the hell am I? McQueen would never stop giving me hard time for cheesy-ass words like that.

But I can’t help it.

I don’t want to push Emmy against a wall, I want to cover her with my body, create a space that is safe and warm and ours.

I know, I’m a fucking Lifetime movie.

But this woman is something else entirely. And the best thing is, she has no fucking clue. A charmed-life girl wants to hear words like make love. A jaded woman doesn’t want to hear the same things. She doesn’t need the same things.

I want to know what Emmy needs.

“Who hurt you?” I ask.

“Everyone,” she says, a sharp laughing escaping her swollen lips.

“Who’s everyone?”

Her arms are around my neck, and my arms are around her waist, and I can’t think of a time I have ever become so wrapped up in anyone.

The last time I cried over a woman it was at my mother’s funeral. Before that it was at my sisters’.

Like I’ve said, my family is fucked up. Women in my family are tools, something you use to build what you need. For my Pops, it was his fucking empire.