King:Las Vegas Bad Boys(18)

I taste his saltiness begin to pour in my mouth, feel his thrusting slow  and deepen at the same time. I want more of him so I keep him in my  mouth as ropes of come fill me. I swallow, my pussy wrecked with heat,  wanting so badly to be fucked.







My thighs are slick with my wetness; I'm unable to stop myself from  moaning in desire as I suck him off until he's emptied his seed in me. I  clench myself together, wanting to save my ecstasy for when he fills me  up, but it only heightens my desire.

Landon is such a man that I can't help but want to please him, take care  of him. Be his plaything all night long. I'll play the part of his  fiancée tonight, but I also want him to use me as his personal sex toy.

I pull his throbbing cock from my mouth. "Fuck me however you like, Landon. I want you to use me however you want."

He greedily pulls me to him, and kisses me hard. His hands cup my face  as his hot kisses seal me to him. My head falls, my back arches, my core  is on fire.

His hand reaches down to my entrance, his fingers touching my wet pussy,  and the softest touch from him elicits deep moans from me. I want so  much, all at once. I want everything. He must sense this, because his  fingers rub against me with more intensity. Each circular motion they  make causes me to shake with desire.

"I need you in me," I beg him.

"Not yet."

"I need it though, baby. I need you in me."

"Let me get you off. I want to see you squirm."

He gently pushes me against the pile of pillows, and he spreads my  thighs on either side of him. Reaching for my opening again with his  fingers, he begins to rub my clit until I have tears on my face. The  mounting pleasure is uncontainable as his experienced fingers rub  against me, until there's nothing left but for me to scream out in  relief.

Three of his fingers reach inside me, hitting my g-spot with such  intuition that I know he must have finger-fucked a hundred women this  way. As my pussy clenches around his hand, my opening gushing with  release, all I can think is thank god I am woman one hundred and one,  because I deserve someone experienced, someone who knows how to use his  massive cock, his strong hands.

"Now you're ready," Landon says, his cock hard once again. My eyes  flutter closed for a moment as I catch my breath. But he knows what he's  doing. He knows that waiting for me to recover isn't what I need. I  need to be fucked so hard my eyes will close for the rest of the night.  He knows I need to be fucked until all I see is black skies and bright  stars.

I need to be fucked until all I see is him.

He presses his thickness into me, and I gasp as he does. He fills me up  in ways I have only dreamed about. Ways I need. I grab his shoulders and  pull him down, wanting his body to cover mine.

"Oh, baby," I moan. "This is everything."

"This is magic." He kisses me again, as he rhythmically ravishes me with his cock. "This is us."

When he comes it's hard and fast; I do too. Unable to comprehend the ceaseless orgasm he causes to ripple through me, I laugh.

He rolls off me and takes my hand. Our fingers lace again. It's natural  and it feels like love  …  and I don't want to think about that fact that  it is all fake.

Landon doesn't either, because in the stillness of the dark curtained  bed, where our sweaty bodies and slick skin reveal the ways we gave  ourselves to one another, he whispers, "I love you, Claire."

And I close my eyes again, wanting to remember the moment when I forgot  what was real and what was not. Wanting to remember when I chose to  believe, for just one night, the things I wanted, not the things I had.





Landon


The next morning I wake in an empty bed. Pulling back the curtains on  the bed, I find Claire texting on her phone, pacing the room in nothing  but her panties and a tank top.

"Everything okay, love?"

She whips to face me the moment she hears my voice.

"Love?" she asks. "I thought the sentiment was just for last night?" She  drops the phone in her purse, and crosses to the bed. Wrapping her arms  around my neck, she tilts her head and smiles.

"It's just so easy to pretend," I tell her, holding her at her waist so  effortlessly. Last night felt like a dream but, waking up this morning  and seeing her here, it feels so real.

Maybe it can be.

Maybe this is more than a job, more than a ruse. Maybe Claire is the perfect woman for me.

"I know, but we need to keep our heads in the game." She smirks, her  lips twisting in perfection. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she  asks me.

"Like what?"

"Like you're up to no good."

"That's my motto, sweet cheeks."

"Sweet cheeks, huh? What will you call me next? Snookums?" Claire  laughs, her head falling back and her graceful neck tempting me to  devour it. But she pulls away before I can plant kisses in the places I  want to-which is everywhere. "I'm starving. And it's already nine. I  haven't slept in this late for five years."







"Five years?" I scratch my chin, watching as she opens a suitcase and begins rifling through the piles of clothing.

"Give or take." Her back is to me, but she keeps talking. "What do the English wear to breakfast?"

"Anything will do. I'm sure Dad will want everyone to walk the property  and Mum will insist everyone sees the greenhouse. Fiona will act like  they're the most amazing plans of all time, and Geoffrey will grumble.  It will be a pleasant day, I'm sure." I know I sound jaded, but I know  exactly how days with my family go.

"Well, that makes it easy for us," Claire says, holding up two sweaters.  "We need to get downstairs and beat them to the punch-ask them if we  can walk the dogs and see the garden first."

"You should wear the green one," I say, pointing to the one with the  lower neckline. "And you're brilliant. We should play our cards just as  you suggest."

"Aww, the blackjack player using card analogies. Very cute." Claire  stands and swats my legs with her top. "Now, get dressed. And we need to  be matchy-matchy. I want them to think we're the perfect couple."

I nod, but inside I silently say words that shock me. We are the perfect couple.



When we get downstairs for breakfast everyone is sitting at the massive  oak table. Fiona and Geoffrey have crossed arms and pursed lips. Mum and  Dad look confused and upset. All I want is some tea and toast.

"What is it?" I ask, pulling out a chair for Claire, remembering to be  the perfect gentleman. I look at my mum for approval, but her head is  now buried in her hands.

"So, Claire  …  tell us, what kind of life do you live in Las Vegas?"  Fiona asks, picking up her teacup, emphasizing Las Vegas with disdain.

We've just been seated and haven't even taken a bite of food.

"Um, well. What would you like to know?" Claire maneuvers her answer expertly as she takes a seat.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I told you last night. I work in the hospitality sector."

Fiona snorts. "See," she says flippantly to my mum. "Told you."

"Told what?" I ask.

"Hospitality sector is a quaint way of saying cocktail waitress,"  Geoffrey scoffs. "Admit it, Landon, this girl is no different than the  other birds you've brought here on holiday. The only difference is this  girl has a rock on her finger. On loan, I might add."

"How do you know that?" I ask, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. I don't  know why him mentioning that I didn't buy the ring outright embarrasses  me, but for some reason I don't want Claire to know that.

"I called around," Geoffrey says, picking up a piece of toast as if this  conversation is-as if Claire and I are-beneath him. "It's not that  difficult to look up an address, search a few databases. Ask a few tech  friends to run a few things on your fiancée, a few things on you."

"Oh, don't ruin a perfectly nice family holiday," Mum says, setting down  her napkin. "All I want is my family all together, under one roof."

"Well, first of all, it's not a holiday, Mum. We've gathered for a  family business meeting. One we must have sooner or later. Besides, our  family is all together," Geoffrey digs. "But not Claire's. Tell them,  Claire, what family did you leave at home?"

Claire's face goes white, as if she's seen a ghost.

Geoffrey and Fiona seem to have crossed a line ... I just don't know what line that this.

"What?" I ask her, confused. Claire's eyes are already brimming with tears.

"I ... can't...." Then she's up, running from the room.

And then she's gone.





Chapter Fifteen





Claire



I don't want to be a drama queen. I swear to God I don't. I came  downstairs today wanting an English family breakfast where everyone eats  clotted cream and scones and drinks Earl Grey tea.

Running out makes me look like a basket case ... but I can't help it.

Fiona's look of hatred and Geoffrey's apparent disdain for me solidified  everything I fear. Being judged for being the person I am.