Landon slides an arm across my back, smoothly guides me to our table where I grab my clutch, then expertly holds the door for me as we walk to the bank of elevators.
I don't know how these hook-ups work. But from the looks of it, Landon is a player, a bad boy, who knows exactly how they operate.
If I'm going to have sex for the first time in an embarrassingly long time ... I'm actually very glad it's with someone like him.
Someone who's not a man I'd ever bring home, not a man I'd ever sleep with twice. Not a man I'd give more than one hour, one time.
Chapter Three
Landon
"Are you nervous?" I ask, tossing my suit coat on a chair in the corner. Claire bites her lip, seemingly very out of her element.
We're standing in my suite. I've gotten myself a permanent space here, set up courtesy of Ace. Considering what I spend a month at the casino, the room rate is a joke. Being able to call myself a serious blackjack player-which is an oxymoron in and of itself-is a perk of being the son of a diamond tycoon.
"I just ... I haven't done this in a while."
"Done what?" I ask, my brows furrowing as I pop the cork on a bottle of champagne. It's all she drank tonight, and the moment I let her in my room, it was clear she needs to loosen up some more.
Pouring a glass, I hand it to her, and she looks up at me with those piercing green eyes.
"It's been a while." She shrugs, dropping her eyes to the floor.
"Ahh." This is quite shocking, actually; Claire is confident and drips sex appeal. She's classic and smart-and hell, her legs in those fishnets she wears around the casino each day ... there's no way men aren't shagging her left and right.
"I don't know why I told you that. That was stupid. I want to do this. With you. I need to do this. I never do anything for myself. And so, I shouldn't be weird about it. Or nervous. Right?"
Rambling women usually give me a headache, but Claire's rambling reveals a softer side to her that I've never seen before. It's actually quite precious.
"Claire, relax. It's me. I'm not a stranger. And this is just sex. At least for me it is. Is that the problem? You want this to be ... more?"
"Oh, God no," she says, so emphatically I actually start to laugh. My ego is impossible to bruise-but I do, however, appreciate her honesty. "This is for one hour. Only."
"Got it, one hour," I say. "And if you're apprehensive about your ... err, skills ... I can take control of the situation."
Claire swallows a sip of champagne and nods eagerly. "Yes, just-please, Landon, don't make me feel like a idiot."
"Never."
I take the flute from her hand and set it on the table. Then I wrap my arms around her and find the zipper of her dress. I slide it down, inch by inch, and feel my cock grow in desire as the dress gives way and falls to the floor.
Claire takes a sharp indrawn breath, suddenly naked save for the strapless bra and tiny thong crossing her soft skin.
"You are divine," I tell her.
"Shut up."
"You are. Now don't be coy with me."
Her hands reach to the collar of my dress shirt and she slowly eases off my tie. It falls between her fingers as she drops it to the floor. Button by button, she moves her fingers down my chest. I tug off the shirt once she's finished.
"Now the trousers," I direct.
A soft smile plays on her face; she tugs on my belt, whipping it from the loops. It hits the floor, and she quickly unbuttons my pants. I know she'll get wet when she sees what I have for her.
My cock is thick and massive, the kind a girl like Claire, who hasn't been properly fucked in far too long, is going to love.
My trousers fall to the floor and my hard rod has sprung to life under my boxers.
"This is really happening," Claire says, her voice full of soft surprise.
"Do you want it to happen?"
"Badly."
I unclasp her bra and her perfect tits fall out. They are full and round, with faded stretch marks on the sides, reminding me that Claire is a fucking woman. Her breast are gorgeous and her hard little nipples beg me to lean in, kiss her skin.
She inhales as my lips reach her breast; her flat stomach pulls in as she holds her breath.
"It's okay, Claire. You're perfect."
The tiniest hint of insecurity flashes over her body. Her hips pivot; her head turns away for a moment. I cup my hands on her face, reflexively, holding her still. Not wanting her to look away. I want to fuck her, sure. But I also want her to know it's perfectly okay to enjoy it.
Claire
Tiny memories of the last time I had sex flash though my mind. Sophia's father's rough voice, bruises and tequila and shattered glass. A much younger me, a much stupider me.
Nothing about that night was soft. Not like this. Not like now. Landon may be a player ... but he isn't treating me like a piece of meat. I think I knew that, deep down, the moment he started leading me around the dance floor.
He's an ass, for sure-he sleeps with a different woman every night-but he's also a decent man. He's trustworthy, solid.
He knows how to waltz.
And, right now, I have to admit he is being a gentleman. That's something I never thought I'd say about Landon, yet with his hands on my body and his hot breath in my ear, I know it's the truth.
"Let yourself enjoy this, Claire," he says, kneeling before me, his hands on the sides of my panties, tugging down the fabric, over my thighs, past my knees, to my feet.
I swallow, realizing this is really happening. The very thing I thought might never happen again is happening. I've been terrified of sleeping with someone again and getting pregnant on the first try, but it's obvious Landon is the kind of bad boy who makes sure accidents don't happen.
Landon's face presses against my flesh, where my thighs meet my opening, and soft kisses flutter over my sensitive skin. I groan, my eyes closing, and instantly wish I'd been silent.
But Landon seems to respond to my voice. His mouth covers my mound, and his tender kisses become heated, and soon his hand slides between my thighs, inching my legs apart. His hand caresses my skin, grazing the lips of my entrance.
"Over here," he says, standing and grabbing my ass, lifting me with what appears to be zero effort and laying me on the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor, pulling my knees toward him, parting my legs as I try to catch up to what is happening.
The bedspread is soft and luxuriant, the light dim, a soft glow cast about the room. Landon's face is covered in shadows that give him an even sexier, dark, and handsome look. His edges are hard, but his hands are so soft.
His head lowers between my legs, his mouth pressing into me. He licks my pussy up and down, fast, and then slips his tongue into me, slowly. He holds my thighs in his arms, as if he knows just how to maneuver my body into his face, so that he can get in me with the perfect mounting pressure.
My pussy drips, and I know I said it's been a long time since anyone has touched me like this, there. But the truth is, I've never had a man kiss me this way.
This? This is a melt on the bed, better-than-my-vibrator, I'll never be the same again sort of kiss. There is no way that I can believe it feels like this every time a girl has a man go down on her. They'd be grinning from the memory every moment of their lives.
Landon uses his hands to touch my folds as he sucks my clit, and then I feel myself soaking his face as my pussy comes in pleasure. My hands find his hair. I run my fingers through his locks, biting my lip as I foolishly attempt to suppress a moan.
There's no point. My legs quiver as he refuses to stop the penetration with his perfect mouth. He flicks my clit, sliding his tongue across my opening again, faster and with more pressure. The movement fills my core with desire. My legs shake; my back arches. I gasp his name.
"Landon, this is ... so good." I cover my face with my hands, sweat on my chest, goosebumps trailing my skin. He just gave me an orgasm I've only read about.
He stands, slips off his boxers, and crawls onto the bed, his eyes filled with hunger. When he straddles me, his stiff cock is more than impressive. Of course his rod is hard and long; he wouldn't be a Vegas sex-King if he had nothing to work with.
I lick my lips, not even aware of the movement, but Landon is. His smile is cocky and smooth, and so gorgeous.
"Scoot back," he tells me. "On the pillows. I want you to be comfortable."
"I'm more than comfortable," I tell him, doing as he asks. My head falls onto a pile of feather-filled pillows, and I sink into the decadence.
"I can see that," he says hovering over me, his chest all molded, ripped muscles-complete strength.
"Will you come in me?" I ask him, my voice a whisper. I have never had a longing like this before, but his cock makes me wet all over again, as it presses against me. "I want this, Landon."
"I do, too," he says, leaning down, covering my mouth with a kiss, soft and sweet. My lips part, and our tongues mingle. I taste myself on him and it causes me to moan again.