McQUEEN:Las Vegas Bad Boys(23)

“I asked you, how do you want me to be?” I ask.

“I want you to understand that this isn’t easy for me either.”

“What isn’t?” I ask, pinning her to the locker room door. “You’re the one with the answers, and I’m the one asking all the fucking questions. You’re the one with the power. I’m the one left hoping to be given another shot.”

“You want things from me that I can’t give,” she says plainly.

“Oh, girl,” I tell her, shaking my head, my mouth so close to hers. Her arms are at her sides, her back arched to me. “You can give me exactly what I want.”

She closes her eyes, her nipples poking through the fabric of her sports bra, her breath desperate, her heart beating so damn fast.

“Then take it, McQueen.” She opens her eyes, and I swear I see so deep inside her, to places she doesn’t even understand. I see her. Her fear and her force and her goddamned soul. I see her.

“Take what you want from me,” she whispers.

And so I do.





JoJo


Before it was fast and hard. Then soft and sweet. Now ... now it’s something bigger. Or deeper. More true.

It’s like the bullshit is gone, the nervousness is gone. The inhibition is gone. And all that is left is Ryan and me.

He tugs off my bra and I lift his shirt over his head. His hands slide under the waistband of my shorts and they fall to the floor. He steps from his gym shorts and all that is here—under the bad lighting and sweaty skin, between the slick hair and heavy breaths—is us.

I may be Grotto’s in two weeks, but until then, I’m going to get mine.

Both in the ring, and right here with Ryan McQueen.

“Oh, baby,” he says, his hands rolling across my breasts, his thumbs circling my hard nipples. I keep my eyes on his. “You are so beautiful.”

“Shush,” I tell him, lowering my chin, taking in the perfect view of his unencumbered cock. Sprung to life and hard as rock. I want him in me so badly.

“Don’t tell me to keep quiet. Tell me how you like it.”

“I just want you in me.”

“Not yet, greedy girl.”

I smile, loving the way his hands travel lower, toward the space between my thighs. He’s never touched me there with his hand. Only licked me, kissed me, pressed his length inside me. But never caressed me with his fingers, and now it’s all I want.

“Then put your fingers inside me. I want to feel you like that, from inside.”

“You want me to finger fuck you? Because I don’t know if you can handle it. I can work a woman’s pussy good and long. I’m not sure if you have it in you,” he says smirking. “You did have quite the workout today, from what I gather.”

I know he likes working me up. I like it, too.

“Show me what you can do,” I tell him, taking hold of his hard shaft in my hand, running my hand up and down it, nice and slow. “Show me how you can work my pussy.”

Pulling me up so my legs wrap around him, he carries me to the couch around the corner and lays me down. Spreading my legs apart, he smiles nice and slow as he presses a finger up and down my folds. He begins flicking at my clit, in a way I could never even begin to master.

I close my eyes, enjoying being on my back, him on his knees, running his other hand over my legs as he eases his finger deeper within me. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the way his finger feels. Just as I am beginning to relish the sensation, he adds a second finger, and deepens his reach; as if making a come hither sign with his hand, he hits my g-spot, and the moment he does I let out a low moan.

“Oh, Ryan, it’s....”

“I knew you’d like it.” For a moment I think he’s done, but then I feel his mouth on my pussy, licking against the wetness I’ve released. “You taste so good, girl.”

I bite my lip, not trusting myself not to scream out, but then his whole face is against my opening, licking me, and slapping my thighs, and then his hand goes in and out, in and out, so nice and fast, I run my hands through his hair, holding on as my legs wrap around his shoulders.

He looks up at me, smiling, a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. And then he moves faster with his hand, until I feel myself pouring out. I hear my wetness as his fingers slide in me, his thumb circling my entrance nice and slow, the opposite of the fast flickering against my g-spot.

It’s so much, all at once.

“Oh, your pussy is on fire, baby.”

“I need your cock. I need it in my mouth.”

He pulls me up so I’m straddling him backwards, and he takes my spot on the couch. “Then suck me while I lick you.”

For a second I feel so vulnerable like this, with my ass in his face, but his fingers find my pussy within seconds, and I can’t think any more. All I can do is give over to the rush of emotions.

I lower my mouth to his cock. It’s throbbing and I just want to suck him, taste him. It must be with the same desire that he wants to taste my pussy. I want to devour him. I want his come to spurt all over me, on my face and on my tits; I want to be claimed by him.

I know I can’t claim him. Not forever. But for now? For now I can take him in my mouth, and I can gag on his magnificent thickness. I suck him up and down, up and down, his hard shaft filling my mouth, hitting my throat, and I love it. I find myself moving up and down in rhythm, and as I suck him, he touches me.

“Oh, girl,” he says. “You’re coming all over me.”

Pulling his throbbing cock from my mouth, I ask, “Is that okay?”

“Oh, girl, it’s heaven.”

I smile, rubbing my tits against his torso as I take him in my mouth again.

“I’m so close,” he says.

“Me, too,” I gasp. And I am. The walls of my pussy are pulsing fast as he penetrates me. He grabs my ass, and runs his tongue up and down the length of my slit.

I taste his release, and pull out his cock, wanting his seed to spurt all over my face. I let it; ribbons of his come shoot out onto my mouth, on my face, on my tits. I love being covered by him.

I want to be taken by him over and over again, until I can’t have him anymore.

If this is gonna be the time of my life, I’m going to do exactly what Lucy and I decided on after getting the call from Kit.

She was so mad at me for not running away—but knowing how much this fight means to me, she understood why I would need to stay. For that, at least; not the other stuff, of course. She thought marrying Grotto was one hundred kinds of crazy. But the fight? She knew it was my dream. My one shot.

And I can’t have a husband of my choosing, but this I can manage.

“JoJo,” he says, squeezing my ass with his hands, as if he can’t get enough. “That was amazing.”

“Good,” I say. “You ready to go again?”





Chapter Seventeen





McQUEEN


I’ve made it to the gym every day this week. How could I not? My show at Hearts Royalle is blowing up, and usually that would entice me to meet new ladies after each show, but that isn’t where my heart is at, and certainly not where my cock is.

My cock is twitching 24/7 at the prospect of hooking up with JoJo again. And we have been. Every damn day. At the gym. In my car. At my house. We have our little routine: she gets nice and sweaty, following Kit’s instructions. I do my best to keep pace. But I’m fucking focused on helping her train for the fight.

Besides, the gym is a warm-up. My real workout comes later, when I lay her out and train her body to respond to me. She’s a fast learner.

“You need to go again, JoJo, if you wanna play with the big dogs,” Kit barks. He’s hard on her, but I see the way he looks out for JoJo, too, constantly has her back, never letting the beefy guys who work out here linger too long on the perimeter of the ring. Always making sure she has food and water. He’s a good coach, but damn, right now he has his arms around her, forcing her to get out of his hold. I want to have my arms tight around her body. I’d toss her to the ground and show her a few moves of my own.

“When you’re in the clinch, JoJo, you’ve gotta get control of your upper body,” Kit explains, as he has her in a double undertook.

JoJo responds quickly to his directive and, with her feet firmly on the ground, she begins working to get out of his grip. I watch as she makes a quarter circle with a right stick to a transition hold. Getting herself in a dominant position allows her to escape Kit.

“Damn, woman,” I holler to her, pumped up with the way she’s improving every single day. Her fire is back; her spark is alive. She has a real chance at this fight. Kit was right about her; she can do this. I don’t believe in her just because we’re fucking.

I believe in her because she’s a badass.

She grabs the water bottle I offer her, sweat running down her face. “I’m so gross right now,” she says, wiping her brows with the hem of her tee shirt.

“Don’t say that, JoJo. You’re beautiful,” Kit says.

Looking at him, I smile. It’s great that there are some men in JoJo’s corner who aren’t demeaning and controlling, like her father and brothers. I’ve asked her a few times this week if I could try again with them, meet them properly. But every time I broach the subject, JoJo gets ultra-jumpy, shaking her head and not offering me an explanation. I figure we need to let the fight happen, and then I can make a case for my loyalty.