King:Las Vegas Bad Boys(44)

"Is it wrong that we are, then? Is the whole wedding off?"

"No," she says, adamant. "Landon, I am walking down the aisle."

"Okay ... I hate talking through a door ... but do you know why she called it off? They've been together forever."

"I think Fiona and Geoffrey got caught up in the idea of a double  wedding, but there's a reason they haven't gotten married for ten years  ... and rushing it now isn't going to solve all their problems."

My mind returns to the conversation with Geoffrey about a savings plan,  and how he knew he needed to propose, how there was no reason to wait  for what he could have now.

"Are they breaking up?"

"No," Claire assures me. "They just aren't getting married right now.  They need more time, need to do this on their own terms, without the  pressure."

"But they aren't us. These are our terms."

"Exactly. Landon," she says, "I want to marry you now. So, scoot your  ass downstairs and let me be the blushing bride I never got a chance to  be."

"I love you," I tell her.

And then I take the steps one at a time.

No need to rush. Everything is coming together in its own time.



An hour later, Fiona is sitting in a chair next to Geoffrey, in the  front row of the room. They've changed out of their wedding clothes, and  are holding hands.

Everyone has their own love story to tell, in their own time.

Right now, it's time to tell mine.

The music starts.

Ace and Emmy walk down the aisle, hand in hand. Ace takes his place beside me as my best man.

Jack and Tess walk arm in arm.

Then McQueen and Sophia enter, and smiles are written on everyone's  face. Sophia lights up the room. She lights up my bad-boy heart.

Fuck that – I'm not a boy anymore.

Sophia needs a man for a father. Claire needs a man for a husband.

And I'm going to give them what they need.

Then the roomful of people stand as the music changes, and Claire walks in, my Dad escorting her down the aisle.

She walks toward me.

I'd say something about how gorgeous she looks in her gown, in her  diamonds, with her hair swept to the side, but that means nothing to me.  Right now, our gazes meet, and my heart swells with pride.

She only has eyes for me.

And I feel like a goddamn King.





Claire


Landon and I hold one another as we spin around the dance floor. I throw back my head, dizzy with love.

It's our first dance as husband and wife, and of course we've chosen to  waltz. He leads me around the ballroom in his parents' estate, and I  can't contain my grin. I don't want to.

"You really are a spectacular dancer, wife," Landon says, his lips  grazing my ear, causing everything within me to swell with desire.

"You're not so bad yourself, husband."

The words sound foreign and luxurious. And they are mine.

The music stops and, as we leave the dance floor, our small gathering claps for us indulgently.

"Sophia," Landon says, bending down to her where she has watched from the edge of the floor. "May I have the next dance?"

"Always," she answers, curtseying for him. Melting my freaking heart.

We're going to be okay. All of us.

Well, maybe not Tess-she looks pretty miserable over at a table by herself.

I sit down with her, and a waiter brings us flutes of champagne.

"You doing okay?" I ask her.







"I'm good, Claire. Stop worrying about everyone." She smiles. "Eh, maybe you can't help it, it's the mom in you."

"Maybe," I say. "I just want everyone to be happy."

"It's crazy-at Emmy's wedding you were such a cynic, and look at you  now." Tess shakes her head. "Who do you think will be next? Jack and  Ashley?" Tess tilts her head toward the power couple, who are quietly  arguing one table over.

"Yikes."

"I know, right? They've been at it all night."

"Relationships are complicated," I say, shrugging.

"Enough with this – shouldn't you and Landon be having wedding night sex or something?"

I laugh. "I think so." I look at the dance floor and see Landon spinning Sophia around the dance floor. Damn, he's sexy.

"I'm so happy for you, Claire," Tess says, kissing my cheek.

"You'll have your happily ever after soon enough," I tell her, believing it. She just needs to find the right man.

Landon catches my eye, and we exchange a not-so-secret smile. We're ready to get this wedding night started.



A few hours later we've cut the cake, thrown the bouquet, and escaped the reception that's winding down.

"We're terrible hosts," I tell Landon, as he grabs my hand. We're headed back to our room, and I can't wait to get there.

"We aren't the hosts. My parents are. They've got it covered."

I pause at the door to our bedroom.

But Landon doesn't hesitate. He picks me up, holding me in his arms, and kicks open the door.

"Crossing the threshold," he says, smirking. He sets me down, harder than I think he planned, and closes the door.

"Such a romantic," I say, laughing, getting my balance in the high heels  and the enormous skirt of the gown. "Now, are you going to help me out  of this dress or not?" I ask.

"Depends." Landon walks in front of me, looking me up and down, crossing his arms.

"On what?"

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much today. My whole heart is fueled with the love he offers.

I bite my lip, amazed that this is my life. That I am the princess in my own fairy tale.

"Well, at the last wedding we attended I asked for a night," he says. "You gave me an hour. What am I going to get now?"

"Landon, now you get my forever."

I hope you have loved Ace and Emmy's Love Story!

On the next page you can start to fall for Landon and Claire!



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Part I





McQUEEN





Chapter One





McQueen



The show tonight is a packed house, and that's good for business. Good  for me. I lay it all out on that stage, and my moves have made me the  most sought-after dancer in Vegas.

My ripped chest is on the billboards for our show Stripped, featured at  Ace's casino, Spades Royalle. And you know those double-decker tour  buses rolling down the strip? That's my bare ass pasted across them, the  one every woman turns her head to see.

They're jaw-dropped before they ever see my cock.

And once they see my massive rod, they can keep their pretty mouths wide open.

And then they can get on their knees.

I'm a cocky bastard, but always getting what I want has turned me from  my humble mid-west roots. Can't help it-I've got a pretty face, and  pretty big dick.

The other guys in the show aren't jealous; it's more that they're in awe.

"McQueen," Brad, the show's manager, calls through the door. "You ready? The show starts in five."

I look at the woman riding me on the couch in my dressing room, her big tits bouncing as I fuck her. Bouncing as she comes.

"You like that, Jen?" I ask. I thrust deep inside her pussy, and she moans in pleasure as she orgasms again.

"McQueen, you fill me up so good," she says, shaking her head as I release.

I massage her perfect double-Ds, not wanting this party to end, but  knowing it must. "I got a show to do," I tell her, slapping her ass,  letting her know this ride is over.

"That's not fair," Stef pouts, her dark skin glowing under the lights at  my dressing table where she is perched, naked. She's been waiting  patiently for her turn.

I met her last night, and we had fun after the show-but this hook-up needs to end.

Can't have a woman hanging around longer than a night or it becomes complicated.

I don't do complicated.

"Sorry, babe, but I got work to do." I only have a few more shows at  this club, and I'd better make it good, leave with a bang. My days as a  dancer at Stripped are coming to a close, but it's been a good run. My  upcoming gig at the new club Hearts Royalle is gonna be hotter than hell  and, as the premier dancer, I know I'm gonna kill it.







I stand and drop the condom in the trash, my cock still ready to go.  And, fuck, just seeing Stef here waiting for me, keeps me hard as a  rock. She spreads her legs seductively, and I know where her hand is  headed. She wants to go as bad as I do.

Brad raps his knuckles on the door, calling for me again. "Seriously,  man," he says. "Gotta move." He swings it opens just as I'm considering  another quick threesome.

"Fuck, McQueen, you've gotta get out there." Brad's eyes scan the room,  and I know what he's thinking. He'd fucking skip a show too, if it meant  he could have a ménage on a Tuesday night.

I shrug at the women and grab my opening act ensemble: jeans and hoodie, sneakers, and a baseball cap.

"It's been real, ladies," I tell them, offering them my classic, all-American grin. The one that gets their panties wet.

The one that always gets me what I want.

I leave the dressing room without asking for their numbers, not needing to know their last names.

I'm not looking for anything more than quick fuck. Or a long fuck. Shit,  all I care about is having some good old fashioned fun ... and  relationships have nothing to do with that.