ACE:Las Vegas Bad Boys(96)

When no phone rings, when nothing threatens this moment, I hold her hips, and help ease her onto my base.

“Landon, you’re so fucking hot,” she says, covering her face with her hands.

“No sweet words, remember?” I tease, pulling her hands away from her face.

“Calling you fucking hot isn’t romance, Landon,” she says, resting her hands on my chest.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Even if it is just about sex, a man likes to be called fucking hot.”

She whimpers as she lowers herself onto me, seeming to pause before letting herself sit all the way down on top of me.

“That hurt? I ask.

“I’m moaning because your accent is so sexy. And I swear, without the accent I’d think you were just a regular American guy—most of whom do nothing for me. Lucky for you, the accent is hot as hell.”

I laugh. This woman has worked me over and she doesn’t even try.

“Claire, it’s time for you to enjoy yourself. Sit down on me, on my cock, nice and hard,” I tell her. “You know you want to.”

“I do,” she breathes in my ear, her tits heaving with each breath she takes, her arms wrapped around my neck.

She eases down, and I grab her firm ass with my hands, my fingers grazing at her pussy, helping her down. “Landon, it’s too much. You’re so big.”

“You can fit me. Your pussy needs to know what a real cock is. I’m gonna fucking teach you.”

“I want you to teach me, Landon,” she moans as she sits herself down, groans escaping her mouth as her head falls back in pleasure. “Oh, fuck,” she pants. “Oh, fuck me, Landon.”

A grin covers my face as her pussy starts to really love my cock. I thrust into her nice and slow, as we find a gentle rhythm so it doesn’t hurt her. Her pussy’s so tight I could swear she’s a virgin. My cock fucking loves filling her up.

“Oh, yeah, baby, that’s good,” I tell her as sweet juice flows from her, soaking my base, my thighs.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, her hands running through my hair, gripping me tightly as she comes, again and again. Her orgasm floods us and she moans loudly as my come shoots out. I hold her soft hips in my hands as I thrust again as I get off with her on top of me.

She falls into my chest, both of us catching our breath. My cock is still hard as a rock, and I pull off the condom. She cups my balls in her hand, as she lies down next to me, as she catches her breath.

Her head rests on my chest and my arms wrap around her, and for a moment it feels like more than a hook-up, more than a quickie.





CLAIRE


I fall asleep, Landon’s arms wrapped around me, and the next thing I know I wake with a start. Switching on the lamp, I try to get my bearings.

“Landon,” I say, shaking him awake. A sheet is wrapped around us. Blackout curtains block out the lights of the Vegas strip.

“What, woman?” he asks, groaning, covering his face with his forearm.

I see the clock on the bedside table and breathe a sigh of relief. It’s 5:00 am. My internal clock is set for early rising, I’m always up two hours before Sophia to get ready for work, and I’m grateful that even on my day off I’m up when I should be.

Holy crap. I really used a hall pass.

A smile breaks across my face, realizing that sleeping over with a man is something I haven’t done in literally years.

And it feels good.

Like, hot damn good. Landon is does not disappoint.

“Why are you smiling?” he says, easing himself up. “It’s not even morning yet. Are you headed out?”

“I probably should.” I stand, grabbing the sheet as I move. I reach for my purse and see Mom never texted. Thank god. Nothing happened while I was out.

My shoulders fall with the relief only a mother can know. Sophia is okay. I’m okay. I left her for the night and nothing happened.

It’s only the third time I’ve ever done this. The first few were last month when Emmy had her world rocked and Tess and I stayed with her at her apartment. Those times, I never felt guilty, because I stayed out so I could support a friend.

This time, I left Sophia for purely indulgent reasons.

And maybe … just maybe … that is okay.

“Well,” Landon says, sitting up now and reaching for the telephone. “When I have sleepovers I feed my guests. You can’t walk out of here without a proper breakfast.”

“I think I can.”

“No, it’s not fit, Claire. You need coffee. Toast. Eggs.”

Setting my purse down, I tell him to go ahead and order room service.

Settling back into the bed, I wonder why I’m going along with this charade.

Maybe the only reason is because it feels really nice to be taken care of.