KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys(39)

“Landon, you want me, now?” Her voice is low and broken.

“Unquestionably.” I stand, holding her as she wraps her legs around me tighter, and carry her down the path, her mouth on my neck, licking the skin leading to my ear. She nibbles my earlobe, and my cock grows hard as her tongue slides across my skin.

I take her to a small wooden shed near the pond, kicking open the door and setting her down on a potting bench.

Her hands reach for my sweater, pulling it off, and I tug off hers, too. We’re panting for breath; all I want is her hands to touch my cock, to feel the stiffness that’s grown for her.

She sits before me, her legs spread apart, and I pull down the white lace of her bra, filling my mouth with her perfect tit, sucking at her hard nipple. Wanting to devour her.

“I want to touch you,” she says.

“Not yet,” I tell her, shaking my head, in mock seriousness. “I’m going to spank you first, for lying to me.”

“Are you going to spank me hard?” She pants, her hands reaching into the waistband of my trousers, reaching for the only thing that can get her off like a fountain. I know she wants to get soaked, but not yet.

I pull her off the counter, and spin her around so her ass is in my face, right where it belongs. I undo her pants buttons, her zipper—and in one fell swoop I pull them and her white thong to her ankles.

Her forearms rest against the wooden bench, and I kneel down on the tile floor and press my face against her gorgeous ass cheeks. They are the roundest part of her body, and I want to slip my tongue into the space between her legs, where she is already dripping with desire.

My hand spreads her legs slightly apart and I press against her opening quickly, teasingly, knowing she likes my fingers deep inside her, knowing that is when she really lights up, but knowing first I need to spank her, play with her. I like sex that isn’t wrapped up in a nice little bow, and so far I’ve given her pretty tidy packages.

I want things to get dirtier now, want to take it to the next level.

I know she wants it too, because she kicks off her shoes and her pants that are around her ankles. Now, fully naked, her hand reaches to her opening, her fingers rubbing against her throbbing clit. I kiss her neck, massaging her tits from behind as she touches herself.

But then she pauses, and turns ever so slightly, to whisper in my ear.

“I know we’re playing, Landon, but you don’t think I’m really bad, do you? For lying? ... You aren’t actually punishing me?”

“Oh, baby,” I say, spinning her around to face me. “No. We can stop if that’s what you think. I’d never do something that you didn’t want.... And I don’t know what this is, you and me. But fuck, right now I just want to make you come and I want to fill you up with my cock and I want to taste you. It isn’t about being bad or being good. It’s about being us.”

“Then spank me, Landon,” she says, her eyes gleaming with desire, with longing. “I want my ass to burn and then I want you to come all over it.”

My eyes close because I’m speechless. Where the fuck did this woman come from?

My hand smacks against her bare ass, and she moans under me, the tender skin where I spanked her bright red.

I spank her again, and a third time, my cock hard—but the truth is, I was already hard. Hard from when I watched her touch herself, hard from when I took in the view of her nice round ass.

And so I kneel down and kiss the spot where the palm of my hand met her flesh, kiss away the redness. Because maybe I’ve liked to fuck this way before ... but in an instant I know it isn’t what I want with Claire. I want something tender.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers, her voice so soft that I have the insane desire to scoop her up and put her somewhere safe where she will be protected forever.

“I just want to be in you,” I admit, the words seeming weak, sounding small. But the words are true. I just want to be inside this woman who is better than me and stronger than me and has a life apart from me—a life I’m too much of an ass to have the privilege of understanding. She doesn’t trust me with the details of her life as a mother.

Of course she doesn’t. I’m a player, a guy living out of a hotel room, conning my parents for a stake in a company. A real man—the kind she deserves—is better than me.

She sits up on the potting bench, the cold October air drawing us together. I press myself into her ready opening, and she wraps her legs around my waist and draws her arms around my neck. Our foreheads touch. Our noses brush against one another. And, as I come in her, all I can think is that I want to be a better man.

I want to be good enough for a woman as complicated as Claire.