KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys Page 18

  “So hard. I want you to pound me.”

  I don’t wait for her to ask me again. My cock is so fucking hard for her; I’m so turned on by her complete willingness to let loose. I need her on top of my cock. I want to consummate her I love you.

  Fuck, I love her so damn much it scares me. And when I set her on top of me, without teasing her tight little pussy open, she gasps, gripping my neck, moaning in delight. My cock loves her tight lips, the way she fills me up nice and good.

  Oh, I’ll fucking fill her up forever. My cock only wants to come home to her. Only wants to come in her, too.

  I grip her little ass, squeezing her cheeks, pressing her back against the door. I thrust into her, hard; she swivels her hips slightly, panting as she does. Then my mouth is back on hers.

  I kiss her deeply, my tongue devouring her, the passion between us mounting as we taste one another.

  “Oh, baby,” she moans, her tits bouncing as I pound her just like she asked.

  “I fucking love you, Claire,” I tell her, my tongue grazing her ear as my words fill the small space between us.

  “I love you, too, Landon.” Her eyes close as she comes, her juice pouring out onto my skin; I squeeze her ass harder, my cock throbbing as I do. I’m so close to coming, but I want her to get off fully first.

  Her body rocks as I slam into, her thighs trembling as they stay wrapped around me, tighter as she climaxes.

  I love watching her get off, knowing I did that.

  I come too, my load pouring into her, and her tightening pussy pulses in its release. She holds my shoulders as her head falls back, her eyes meeting mine.

  “You are incredible,” I tell her, planting another kiss on her swollen lips.

  She steals another kiss, and then says, “As are you.”

  As we walk back into the pub, properly fucked, but not at all screwed, our fingers are laced, and I know it’s cheesy as hell, but our hearts are laced too.

  This woman is motherfucking mine.

  “Everything okay?” Emmy asks.

  Claire nods, the hint of a smile on her lips, and she sighs heavily, still catching her breath. I swear I get hard just looking at the rise and fall of her tits in that soft sweater she’s wearing. I am such a lucky goddamned fool.

  “We’re having a double wedding, in a week,” I tell the table. “And if you don’t like that, you can go. Okay? We don’t need people here who won’t support us. We’re fucking in love, and that should be enough for all of you.”

  “Okay,” Emmy says, shrugging. “I’m sorry. I’m just ... looking out for you both.”

  “I know,” Claire says, reaching for Emmy’s hand. “And I appreciate that. But whatever happens next with Landon and me is our business, okay?”

  Everyone tilts their head, as if reading into Claire’s word choice … but we’ve made it pretty clear that we aren’t discussing our personal life.

  But the truth is, I tilt my head, too.

  Does Claire want to get married in a week, because I sure as hell do ... though I guess we haven’t made that explicitly clear. Yes, we’ve both said I love you ... But that doesn’t mean she’s agreeing to really being my fiancée.

  But I hope like hell she wants to.

  Maybe I need to make it officially-official. Maybe I need to propose again, properly. With her knowing my intentions.

  I pull her close to me as a waiter delivers another round of pints. We pick up our frosty glasses.

  “To our future,” I tell her, clinking my glass against hers.

  She smiles, but it’s clear there are unspoken fears hiding behind her gorgeous green eyes. I have a pretty good idea of what those fears might be.

  But she doesn’t need to worry.

  I’ll figure out a job, get us a house, and then ask her to marry me.

  All before our wedding next week.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Claire

  As we walk back to the house a few hours later, my head spins.

  But that’s mostly because I had about four pints at the bar.

  Which for me, is a lot.

  Like, loads.

  Landon is grinning, laughing with Ace. Even Geoffrey is joining in, which is weird. Apparently those boys had a heart to heart; I’d ask about it but right now I don’t want anything to sour my mood. My silly, drunk, everything-feels-possible mood.

  I know Landon is about ten steps ahead of me in this relationship–because I know he is all about that double wedding. Which is a thousand kinds of ridiculous, never in hell going to happen—I have a mother and a daughter expecting me home in a few days.

  But I don’t want to ruin what we have, right now, by telling him my secret.

  When I told him I loved him, I meant it. I mean it. I do. I want to be all in with him. Tomorrow, when I’m recovered from this hangover and my vision is less blurry, I’ll lay it all out for him. And then he can decide what he wants to do next.

  Maybe it’s the highs and lows of this trip, but I think Landon is worth getting my heart broken over.

  The way he holds me, sees me, wants me–it’s filling a hole that has been in my heart for so many years.

  I want that hole to be filled, by him.

  Emmy, Tess, and I are trying to include Fiona in our jokes—mostly obnoxious ones—as we stumble along the road home. The guys are in step with us, listening but mostly making dick jokes and trying to trip one another.

  “Ohmigod,” Tess moans. “My feet are killing me. I need a man to carry me home. That would be the best.”

  “I know, right?” Emmy laughs. “I would love to have a red carpet under my feet right now, and just have someone waiting to pamper me.”

  “And by someone, you mean a man, right?” Tess asks.

  “No way, I have my man,” Emmy says, cracking up.

  “Damn straight, you do,” Ace says, grabbing her ass, making her squeal.

  “True, we may have men,” I say, looking at Landon and smiling. “But I hear you, Tess. Especially home in Vegas, it is all about catering to men. What about the women?”

  “I know,” Tess moans. “I’d love to just show up at a club and be, like, given the royal treatment.”

  “Makes sense,” Fiona says. “Every club in London is set up to serve the men, too. I want to go somewhere and feel like a queen. Feel completely gorgeous.”

  “Right?” Tess says. “Have it be about the ladies, and what they want, instead of us in our fishnets and bustiers, just being eye candy for the men. What about a club that was full of eye candy for the women, with cock waiters? Get it? Instead of cocktail waitresses?”

  Emmy laughs. “Tess is officially drunk, folks.”

  And then the joking passes, and it’s as if we’ve all looked around at the same moment, with our arms slung around one another’s shoulders, smiles written across our faces and our hearts, the bright moon heavy in the dark sky, the grass and the trees and the air so fresh, so alive. It’s like we all notice that, and feel more alive for seeing it. More grateful. More aware.

  Aware of how freaking precious this is. To have found love. To have found one another. And I squeeze Emmy and Tess tighter, just full of freaking gratitude.

  And then I look over my shoulder, and see Landon and Ace—Geoffrey’s there too—laughing about something and they’re just beaming, so drunk and happy. And all at once my feelings bubble to the surface.

  Not in an obnoxious way ... in an I’m finally seen my life for what it is way.

  I’ve been fighting against letting anyone in for years, because I was scared of getting hurt—but the moment I said yes to love and Landon and Emmy and Tess, the moment I let down my guard, I can finally see my life for what it is.

  Pretty freaking great.

  “Thanks for coming,” I tell Emmy and Tess.

  “Of course,” Tess says. “We should come back to England in the summer. I bet it’s so pretty then.”

  “Oh, it is,” Fiona says. And for some bizarre reason I don’t even care tha
t she’s here, chiming in. In fact, nothing could sour my mood. “We usually go to the summer house in August; it’s on the coast and just lovely.”

  “I bet Sophia would like that,” Emmy says.

  “She would. She’s never been to the beach.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” Tess says. “I’m gonna be the best Auntie.”

  “Well, you have some competition,” Emmy says, laughing.

  “Yeah, she does,” Fiona adds. And then Fiona looks at me, and I feel something pass between us ... something like understanding. Something that only passes between family.

  And that’s when I lose it. Not in a dramatic way. In a silent tears down my face way. In a how did I get this lucky? sort of way.

  In an I don’t want to fuck this up with my past sort of way.

  “Hey, love,” Landon says, pulling me from the pack. “I want to walk you back.”

  I let him pull me into his arms, my arms wrapping around his back as we stop, letting the rest off the group walk ahead.

  I let myself be here, in this moment, and I know there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

  He kisses me under the moon. He kisses me as I fall into him. He kisses me, and I’m a goner.

  He kisses me, and I’m his.

  Landon

  The next morning I get moving at the crack of dawn.

  Earlier, even. It’s four-thirty in the morning and I’ve been up all night planning my next move. On the walk home from the pub last night, the girls gave me the idea—though they would never remember their words. They were all so drunk.

  But I remember, and I know how to capitalize on it.

  I need a job, and I already have the property—now I just need to speak with my investors.

  Ace first, but then Jack and McQueen, too.

  I pull back the drapes around the bed where Claire is sleeping, wanting to see her one last time before I go. She lays there undressed, sheets wrapped around her, smiling in her sleep from the drunk-sex we had last night after we stumbled up the stairs to our room.

  How the fuck did I get so damn lucky?

  I dress quickly and then pack a small bag.

  On the desk in the room I pen her a short note.

  Dear Claire,

  I have some unexpected business to attend to. I will be back late tomorrow. Don’t worry, nothing bad–everything is going to be just fine.

  I love you.

  Landon

  I set it on the bedside table, next to her phone so she won’t miss it, and then leave the room quietly.

  I told Ace, last night, to meet me in the kitchen at five this morning—that I needed to talk to him, and that it was important.

  He’s there, drinking a cup of coffee when I walk in.

  “I can’t believe you remembered,” I say, pouring a mug for myself.

  “Hey, my friends matter to me. You know that, bro,” Ace says. “Besides, I needed some Advil. This headache is killer.”

  “I glad I didn’t drink too much last night.” Holding the mug in my hands, I take a deep breath. “I need your help, Ace.”

  “Anything, man—that’s why I’m fucking awake right now instead of sleeping next to my hot wife.”

  I smile. “The thing is ... it’s kind of awkward.”

  “Dude. I’ve seen you getting lap dances at strip clubs, seen you throw up after a hard night’s drinking–in a limo–and I’ve unfortunately seen footage from your sex video with what’s-her-name. Those are all things I can’t unsee. I promise, you can say anything to me.”

  “Her name was Winnie, and she was a series of unfortunate events. And I have no fucking clue why you watched that video.”

  “I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was regular porn. Not my friend. Believe me, I’m more traumatized than you are.”

  I shake my head, knowing there are a thousand terrible things from my past. Embarrassing things. Things that I want to stay covered forever—because, shit, I’ve been a fucking wanker.

  But I want to be better. Do better.

  For Claire.

  “I need help getting a few things.”

  “Anything.”

  “I need a job. Like, today. And if I get the job, I can get the house.”

  “Shit,” Ace says, laughing. “You really did need to talk about something important.”

  When I don’t laugh, he adds, “Okay. How can I help?”

  “I have a few ideas.”

  I get out my laptop, and pull up the document I was working on last night after Claire fell asleep. I spent the hours between midnight and now researching and planning, and I think I have an idea. Something that might work, for all of us.

  “You know the property that everyone is putting money towards?” I ask.

  “Of course I do, asshole,” Ace says, leaning against the countertops. “What were you thinking of doing with it?”

  I lay out my plan, and Ace nods encouragingly. He adds his thoughts, and I’m glad I asked for his input. He’s a fucking brilliant businessman.

  “You think this will work?” I ask him.

  “It’s dope as hell. The girls are gonna love it.”

  I nod, still nervous. I’ve got a huge day ahead of me.

  “And you’re okay with giving me the loan?”

  “Fuck, man. I don’t have family besides Emmy. My father used his money to threaten and hurt people.” He shakes his head. “I know I sound like an ass for getting so sappy, but shit, I just feel lucky that I have friends who I can help.”

  “I feel like a pussy, needing help.”

  “Fuck that,” Ace says. “A real man knows when to ask for help. I asked for everyone’s support when I wanted the property in the first place. Now you can fucking learn how to be a man.”

  “By asking for help?”

  “Exactly. Now, you need to work this all out right now, today?” he asks.

  “Some of it, yes. It can’t wait. Claire deserves a man who has a fucking house and a fucking job.”

  Ace doesn’t disagree.

  “Good luck, bro.”

  And then I leave the estate and get in the car waiting for me, before anyone else wakes up and sees me go.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Claire

  When I wake up, my arms stretch out over my head and I yawn, reaching for Landon. But he isn’t here. I’m in the bed alone.

  I frown, instantly wanting his warm body, his arms to wrap around me, his early morning stubble to scratch my face. To press against other, more sensitive spots, too.

  It’s insane how I went five years without sex and how now I’m horny as hell. Landon woke something up in me ... well, a lot of things. With him, I feel awake in ways I haven’t been in forever.

  I need to tell him the truth. I need to tell him everything. And today, I will.

  I’m thinking maybe I’ll ask him to go on a quiet drive in the country. Maybe even a picnic, because I am pretty sure that’s what English people do.

  Then when the moment is right–but not too right, because the truth is I just need to come clean—I will tell him everything.

  “Landon?” I call, pulling back the curtains around the bed. “Are you coming back? I need you.”

  I fall back on the pillows. So. Freaking. Horny.

  My fingers reach down, under the sheet. I’m thinking that when Landon comes back to bed, he will love watching me touch myself.

  I press a finger against my opening, spreading my entrance with my other hand, so I can reach deep. Then I begin rubbing at my opening with my thumb. Slow circles, hitting my clit with a deepening pressure.

  I close my eyes, sighing as I allow myself to be in this moment, imagining Landon coming back to bed, his massive morning erection ready for me. When his cock is hard, it turns me on so fast.

  I loved it when he pressed me against the door last night at the bar, how he pulled up my skirt and fucked me so hard.

  Remembering his thickness inside my pussy, I begin to release. Visions of his sexy smile and his sof
t lips fill my mind. I work in steady circles, flicking at my clit as my pussy starts to get nice and wet.

  My toes curl as I move a second finger inside, and I move in and out, in and out, thinking of Landon inside me. My wetness soaks my hand; I’m coming all over myself. I roll over to my side, moaning into my pillows.

  I think of Landon’s hands all over my breasts, licking my nipples, and then deepening his thrusts, each memory with him floating over me as I move my hand faster, and faster still.

  And I come, not able to wait for him to return to the bed. The intensity within my pussy walls mounts quickly, practically begging to explode.

  I imagine his strong hands on my waist, his fingers in my pussy, and press a third finger inside myself, reaching against my g-spot—creating an electric buzz inside me as I pant, pushing, pushing, pushing against that sweet spot as my legs shake.

  My body reacts to the orgasms washing over me. Again, and again, and I continue to come, thinking of Landon the entire time. Wanting Landon inside me this very second.

  When I’m done, I catch my breath, the longing for him intensifying. I need him inside me now.

  I pull back the bed curtains, and call his name again.

  But he doesn’t answer. That’s weird. I reach for my phone to see the time, and as I do a piece of paper falls to the floor. I reach for it, seeing my name.

  Reading it, my brows furrow. He left?

  I look at the phone, see that it’s nine a.m. I immediately text him.

  But he doesn’t respond. Huh. He always answers.

  I call, and it goes straight to voice mail.

  “Hey, babe. Saw your note and just wondering were you went, exactly. Anyways, I just woke up, and am thinking of you.”

  I end the call and get up, realizing that there’s no point in staying in bed alone.

  I only want to be waking up beside him.

  Once I’m showered and dressed, I call my mom and chat with her and Sophia.

  “Everything okay there?” I ask.

  “Honey, we’re great,” my mom says. “Sophia and I are fine. I just hope you’re having fun, too. Not working too hard?”