McQUEEN:Las Vegas Bad Boys(13)

I know when a girl needs to be prodded, and when someone needs a reprieve. JoJo needs a break, but I’m sure as hell not gonna be the one to push her until she cracks.

“Okay, no games.” I bite my bottom lip and walk to the bed, my cock still erect under my briefs, still dying to be sucked by this woman before me. “Let’s just stick to our original plans. I’m pretty sure you and my cock had a date this morning.”

She nods her head. “We certainly did.” Her hands reach to pull down my briefs, but she looks up at me first. “I know I didn’t play fair. But I can’t resist asking you the same question. Truth or dare?”

I run my hands through her hair, tilt her face to mine. Her chin’s at my waist, and her mouth is inches from my straining cock.

“With you? Truth.”

“What is your first name?” Her question surprises me.

“Ryan. My name’s Ryan McQueen.”

“Why are you smiling?” she asks.

“No one ever asks my first name. Never.”

“You’ve just been talking with the wrong girls, I think.” She pulls down my briefs, and my cock springs out, easy for her to take hold of.

“I think you’re right about that.” I take her hand and guide her to me. “Stroke me with one hand.”

“And with my mouth, Ryan?” she asks, pretending not to know. “Where do you want that?”

“Oh, girl.” I close my eyes, exhaling as she parts her pouty lips and wraps them around me. My cock throbs with the warmth her willing mouth offers. “I think you know plenty of games. And as far as this round is concerned, you fucking win.”





JoJo


I open my mouth wider. The thickness of McQueen’s cock turns me on in a way I never expected. I’ve heard Lucy talk about going down on guys … but I always thought the idea sounded mildly disgusting.

But McQueen’s cock makes me wet and hot at the same time. I run a hand over his bare ass, and my other hand holds his long shaft. It’s so big and throbbing that as I sink him deeper into my mouth I moan, overwhelmed with desire.

My skin floods with heat; I’m totally turned on. I kneel on the soft mattress, McQueen before me, and the position—me before him—makes my opening wet with desire. I like being below him like his. I like the way his hands run through my hair, the way he thrusts his cock into my mouth.

And I like the way he hits the back of my throat, the way I am completely filled with him.

“JoJo, that is so good.”

His affirmation encourages me, because honestly I have no idea what I’m doing besides just responding as intuitively as possible to his straining cock. My hand reaches below his shaft and I run my palm over his balls, somehow turned on even by these specimens. I pull his cock from my mouth, suddenly desperate to lick him lower, to fondle his sack, and I roll my tongue over them. As he moans, I let one drop in my mouth, sucking soft, but steady. My tongue glides over his other ball, too, and I inhale his sexy, manly scent, full of heat. I lick him faster, my eyes closed, my pussy dripping now.

“Oh yeah,” he says, as I fill my mouth with both balls, my tongue swirling faster. Then my tongue licks the length of his shaft, while my hand stays on his heated package. His cock is now veiny, nearly translucent with the hardness. It makes me feel so beautiful, so desired, to know I made him grow like this, be filled like this.

I put his length back in my mouth, sucking harder, no longer worried, just completely wanting to give him the release he seeks.

“Pull out, baby—I’m gonna come.”

But I don’t listen. I grab his ass cheeks, nearly choking on his throbbing rod but not caring. I press my lips against his cock, wanting to taste his come, wanting to be filled with him even more.

Lucy and other girls at college joked about whether to spit or swallow, and I never understood it, never got the appeal one way or the other.

But now I do. Now I completely understand. As McQueen comes in my mouth, I moan at the rush of his salty release, the way it coats my throat as I swallow his creamy seed. I swallow as he grunts, thrusting into me again as he finishes.

He pulls out, a look on his face that for a moment I mistake as anger. But the moment he speaks, I know he isn’t mad. Not in the slightest.

“Fuck, JoJo. I just—” He shakes his head, finding his breath. “I fucking need all of you.”

He drops to his knees, and joins me on the bed. He strips my panties from me without stopping to ask if it’s okay, because he knows by my soaked panties that all I want is more of him. We’d be wasting time if we talked about it, because all we want is one another, and no words are required for that.

His cock is still massive and hard, and he kneels behind me, his cock right up against my ass. I bend forward, on all fours, and he cups my breasts with his solid, sure hands. He runs his fingers across my opening, light as a feather, but even that slight sweep causes me to collapse to the bed. There is a swell of desire he raises within me.

“Get back up, baby,” he says, his voice firm. “I want to touch you more. And then I’m gonna come in your tight pussy, and you’re gonna come so hard.”

I do as I’m told, because I know McQueen knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows exactly how to make me writhe with heat and I want to be consumed by his fire.

I straighten my arms, my ass right in his face, and I know he loves the view because his face is right up against my opening, licking me again like he did yesterday.

But this isn’t soft and slow. This time it’s as if he’s been overcome with a desire to devour me. His tongue licks the length of my slit up and down, then he reaches a hand between my legs, past my pussy, and runs it from my tits to my entrance, back and forth.

I’m moaning, because I need him to either stop or give me more. My core is ignited, and I want him to fan the flame. I want all of him.

“I need you,” I tell him, my face buried in the pillows and the blankets. My hands tighten around the sheets, steadying me, because McQueen does as I ask.

I hear the rip of a condom package, and then he is leading his cock into my entrance. I gasp; the intensity of this position causes me to squeak sounds I’ve never heard from my mouth before. One of his hands is at the small of my back, his other hand guiding his cock deeper inside of me.

Oh, God, it’s good. Deep and fulfilling, the tip of his cock finding my center, and tipping in me in a way that causes me to release a guttural growl as he inches deeper in me.

“Oh, God, you’re too big, McQueen. Too big—I can’t….”

And then I stop saying what I can’t do, and start telling him what he can do.

Because damn, what he can do feels so right. “Yes, yes, please. Oh, yeah. Keep going, harder. Yes.” My hands grip the sheets; the space between my legs tightens. Inside it feels like shattering glass and being pieced together, all at the same time. My flesh prickles from the rush of heat and then the drench of sweat.

It’s the same feeling I get after an insane workout, when my face is flushed but my skin is soaked—only better, because as the orgasm washes through me, as McQueen holds my waist with both hands, I don’t feel like my ass has been kicked. I feel like a champion.

“JoJo, you’re so good, you have no idea,” he tells me. And I believe him, because I want to. I want to be good for him.

He thrusts again, his release warm even through the latex of the condom. I have a flash of an insane desire: I wish that there were no barriers between us.

But I catch myself, catch those thoughts. They are dangerous. I’m getting married in a month.

And that thought alone snaps me out of my fantasy.





Chapter Eleven





McQUEEN


After I pull out of her, I’m surprised that she isn’t smiling.

Not smiling after that? I sure as hell know she loved it; her thighs are slippery with her pleasure.

“You okay, girl?” I ask, falling beside her on the bed. We’re both on our stomachs, held up by our forearms. Her eyes are closed as she catches her breath. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, I try again. “Do you want to talk?”

She shakes her head ever so slightly. Her brown eyes open, look at me, but so many things are hidden. She’s not one of these open book girls I’ve been with before, who tell you their deepest dreams and biggest fears by the time they’ve had two martinis.

JoJo is different. I told her so last night.

It’s a compliment, one I don’t fully understand. One I know she doesn’t understand. So many stories are behind her veiled face. I want to tear that veil away. But I also don’t want to piss her off.

“I should go,” she says quietly, as she lets her body sink into my bed.

“Did you want to do what we just did?” I ask, not wanting to be the asshole who takes her virginity and then decides to have morning sex without her consent.

“No, I wanted to, Ryan McQueen.” She smiles softly, the corners of her mouth turning upward so slightly I would have missed it were I not so completely wrapped up in her every movement. “I just have a lot I need to deal with.”

“The private investigator might have a lead. I’ll call him.”

“I don’t know if that’s going to solve anything. It’s more complicated than that.”

“What’s more complicated? I can’t help you if I don’t understand.”