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McQUEEN:Las Vegas Bad Boys(33)

By:Frankie Love

"Is it really that bad?"

"I think it's worse."

"Shit." He winces, patting his jaw. "Well, let me make these calls. Is there anyone you need to get ahold of?"

"Lucy and my sister, I guess."

"Your dad?"

"Oh," I snort. "Well, he knows where I am."

"What do you mean? Did you talk to him since yesterday?"

"Yeah," I blow the air from my cheeks. "I went over there this morning. Before the gym."

"Why?" McQueen's eyes narrow and, even through the caked blood on his face, I see the creases in his forehead deepen.

"Because he's my father?" I try not to let his tone ruffle me, but I don't understand the need for his low timber.

"Are you still considering going home? Back to Grotto?"

"No," I say, pulling back from him. "Why would you say that? I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you were also at your father's house. Be straight with me, JoJo. Are we in this together or not?"

"We are. I told my dad my choice, that I’m walking away. So don't get mad at me for going over there today; I went there so I could close that door. And I want to walk into your arms, but I still need to feel free to be where I want, when I want. So don't get all possessive on me, when I gave everything up for you."

"That's bullshit. Today of all days I think I can be a little protective of you, Josephine," he says, anger flashing in his eyes. "I went to Kit's this morning because I was scared something had happened to you. I wake up, and you’re gone. What am I supposed to think? Leaving is your mode of operation." He shakes his head, furious. "And I'm glad my instincts kicked in. You were in trouble. So, yeah, I'll be possessive for a while. I don't want you out of my fucking sight. But not because I want to control you." He wraps me in his arms, holding me so damn tight that I know it must be killing his battered body. "JoJo, I can't fucking lose you."

And then he kisses me. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth and the pulsing fear running through his veins collides with my longing for him to never let go.

My mouth presses against his until we remember to breathe. The horrendous memories of the morning fade away. Together, in this moment, we can forget.


She leads me upstairs to my bedroom, turns on the shower. She lifts my shirt over my head, tugs on the waistband of my shorts and my boxers, leaving me naked before her.

"I don't want to talk any more about what happened today," she tells me.

I nod, because I don't want to go there either, not now. Not when she’s undressing me, making me forget about the bruises on my face.

She presses her hand against my bare ass and pushes me into the steaming shower. With the curtain pulled back, I watch as she undresses for me.

Last time we were in a shower together, we were both fully dressed, stripping down in the water, slick with desire. Hungry for what our bodies craved.

Now I know how JoJo tastes, but that doesn't satiate me in the least. Now I want more. Now I want it all.

With her shorts off I see her perfect pussy. The soft hair of her mound gets me hard, because I know what’s hidden beneath. A pussy that is tight, that has only ever had me. A pussy that responds to my touch, that is satisfied by my tongue. Her pussy is perfection and it's ready to be fucked by me.

When she lifts the hem of her tank top, she has to wiggle her arms to get it over her head, and that little movement causes her tits to bounce. My cock hardens even more, and I reach for it as the hot water of the shower falls over my back.

"Looks like you're ready to play," she says, eyeing me as I hold my shaft.

"Don't tease me anymore."

She stands there, naked except for her sports bra.

"Take that damn thing off," I tell her.

"Why?" she asks, turning away toward the sink. When she moves, her round ass comes into view and I stroke myself, loving the nice curve of her cheeks. I want to bury my mouth against her, press my fingers in her slit, lick her up and down.

Fuck. She better get in here soon, or I’m going to come in the shower alone.

She takes a drink of water, and I see her face in the mirror. She sets down the cup, and her eyes reach mine.

A playful smile crosses her mouth, and I watch as she takes off her bra. I have the best view. Her narrow waist and round ass in front of me, and her tits and pouty mouth watching through the mirror.

"You're gonna make me come," I tell her. "Get in here."

She shakes her head, and lifts a foot on the closed toilet seat.

"I like watching you touch yourself," she tells me. Her hands run over her bare breasts, pausing at her nipples; she rolls her fingers over them, her eyes on me the entire time.

One hand continues to massage her tit, but the other trails to her entrance, where her legs are spread apart, and she begins to touch her soft little folds.

"Oh, fuck, girl."

"You don't like watching me touch myself?" she asks coyly. "Because, damn, I like watching you."

I continue to pump my cock. It's fucking hard as rock, and all it wants is to plunge inside her wet pussy, but I can wait.

"You like this? Right?” she asks again.

"Oh, I can play along," I tell her. "Even though what I really want is to get on my knees and fucking eat your gorgeous pussy out."

"What would you do to my pussy?" Her hand moves faster, deeper into herself. She's panting as she watches me and I love how she's getting off.

"I'd lick your pussy until it was dripping all over my face," I say. "I'd lick you until there was nothing left. And then I’d put my cock in you, and fill you up all over again."

"Oh, God," she moans, juice dripping down her thigh, and she grips the countertop as an orgasm crashes through her. I can't fucking wait anymore. Screw the shower, we were never gonna get that far anyway. Right now, I need to taste her as she comes.

After getting out of the shower, I pick her up and set her down on the counter. I kneel in from of her, resting my knees on the thick mat on the floor. Spreading her luscious folds, I bury my mouth in her. Her fingers still circling her clit, and I run my tongue over them, which causes her to move her hand faster.

My mouth covers her pussy with kisses; her breath is ragged as I press my mouth to her—nice and tight, not leaving room for her hand.

She runs her hands through my hair, as she explodes again, her back arching, her ass lifting off the counter slightly as she tries to get hold of herself. But she can't. She's lost control as I flick my tongue over her clit, moving so fast, around and around, until she is screaming from release.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, McQueen." She screams my name, and my cock wants her so bad. Needs her so bad.

I pull her to stand, and she steadies her hands on the mirror over the counter. Her ass is tight against my throbbing cock, her tits bouncing at our frenzied movement.

I roll a condom on myself, and push my cock into her, nice and deep. She releases a moan from somewhere deep inside as I fuck her hard, fuck her like I know she wants it.

Fuck her like we both need.

My come shoots into her, filling me with a warmth that only comes from love, from lust. The kind of orgasm you only get when you are completely undone, completely free.

Completely found by another.

I may have just fucked her ragged, but together we are complete.

Chapter Twenty-Five


After McQueen blows my mind by both fucking me and making love to me at the exact same time, we shower for reals. Then I get to cleaning him up.

He has a small first aid kit, and I rummage though it in the kitchen while he sits on a barstool making calls to Landon, then Jack, then Ace.

He ends the last call with a dazed look on his face.

"You really are like the Rat Pack," I tell him, holding up a piece of gauze. "I grew up with brothers, but you guys are closer than family. You really look out for one another, don't you?"

McQueen shrugs. "I got lucky with those bastards. They're all too good for me, but somehow they stay around."

"Don't be dumb. What, you want to wear a suit and go work in an office like Landon? Deal with a secretary and payroll like Ace?"

"Hell, no, but Jack has it pretty good."

"No," I say, shaking my head, then dabbing some antiseptic ointment on his cheek. "Jack has the worst deal out of all of you. A world-class DJ has so much pressure. He has an agent and tour dates … basically, his entire life is staged. You, on the other hand, get to do what you love without the bullshit."

"Me being a male dancer, that's enough for you?"

I stop doctoring him and look squarely in his eyes. "Is it enough for you?"

He lifts his eyebrows reflexively, even though I know it must hurt like hell.

"It's enough for now."

I shrug. "Then it's enough for me."

I kiss him on the nose, guessing it's the least sensitive spot on his face—because after the bathroom rendezvous even his lips look bruised.

"So, what did your boys say?"

McQueen shakes his head. "You'll never believe it. Ace says word on the street is that Kit's murderer was already caught."

"No shit. Who was it?"

"He didn't know that, but I'm guessing it will be in the news soon."

"I'm stunned," I tell him, pressing a strip of gauze on his face, taping it in place. "The whole thing feels surreal. Like a dream. I trusted Kit with my life. And to have that happen right after my dad rejected me, rejected the idea of us—the timing feels cruel."