McQUEEN: Las Vegas Bad Boys (6 page)

“Oh, girl,” he says, his mouth so close to mine. “You were fucking perfect.”

And then his lips are against me, and my arms wrap around his neck. I’m aching to get closer.

Aching to feel his skin again.

Fuck reality.

I want to fall down that rabbit hole.

Hell, I want to fly.

T
his girl is going
to be the end of me. And I never even saw it coming.

She asked for no strings attached, and that’s what this is, but there is something about her—the softer side of her I never expected, the way she looked when she spoke about her family. She seemed so small, so vulnerable. Like she needed a fucking man to take care of her.

When her lips press against mine, so tentative, so naive, all I want to do is teach her everything I know. Show her how to get the most out of our time together.

I pull away, needing to get her out of those little gym shorts, I need to see that sweet, soft pussy again, need her to know what sort of assets she has. Let her know how fucking hard she makes me when I get a glimpse of the space between her legs. The legs she’s never opened for any man but me.

I get on my knees before her, tug down those little shorts, and inhale her perfect mound. Oh, fuck, she is so sweetly trimmed, no fucking fancy Brazilian shit. JoJo is all woman; she’s not trying to be anything but herself and that fucking turns me on like no one ever has before.

“Oh, God, woman, you’re making me hard as rock.”

“I am?” she asks, running her hands through my hair.

I look up at her from where I kneel before her, and our eyes meet. In that moment, I feel something tug inside me, and it fucking scares me to death. Like maybe this heart I swore to God I’d never give anyone might be capable of belonging to someone else.

Shit, this woman is trouble, and yet ... I can’t stop myself. I need to be inside her again.

“Take off your top,” I tell her. “I want to see your tits when I look up. I need to see your skin.”

“Will someone walk in?” she asks, looking around the empty gym.

“It’s locked and, baby, I don’t fucking care. I want someone to see me licking your pussy until you come all over my face. I want someone to know how fucking lucky I am.”

She doesn’t hesitate, and I know she likes hearing how much I’m enjoying this. It turns me on, knowing she wants me to be in control. Oh, I’ll fucking take control.

Her arms pull her top over her head, and her sports bra along with it. Now that her tits are exposed, I run a hand along her flat stomach, reaching a palm over her soft breasts. Then I press my mouth against her slit, and my tongue weaves its way into her folds.

“Oh, McQueen, that’s, oh. Ohhh.” And then she stills her voice, unable to speak as I lick her up and down.

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her to the floor, where a mat covers the ground. She’s completely naked, and flat on her back. I part her legs, wanting to suck her pretty little clit until she gushes for me.

“You’re gonna like this, baby,” I tell her, lowering my face to her spread legs.

My tongue knows right where it belongs, deep in her folds, and I flick hard and fast, knowing she loves it by the way her hands pull through my hair, the way her legs tighten up.

I push them back down, knowing she has no idea what she is in for. Slowly I begin at her hood, gently licking her, twirling my tongue around, gaining speed as her juice releases in my mouth. She tastes so good and sweet; I want to lick her pussy all night long.

“That’s too much, it’s too much,” she groans, not knowing that it’s just enough.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, blowing warm air into her, letting her squirm beneath me as I run my tongue over her delicate skin, so creamy, so untouched. I want to press my fingers in her, but don’t want to hurt her. She was already in pain earlier today. Right now, I’m just going to let her release until she’s come undone.

Until she’s come all over me.

My hands cup under her ass, holding her cheeks as my mouth devours her pussy. Faster, I flick her pulsing clit with my tongue. Her body tenses as I refuse to let up.

She starts coming, and her creamy release pours over me. I don’t stop, wanting to make her scream out, wanting to make her remember, for the rest of her fucking life, the first time a man ate her out. I don’t want her to ever forget how good I made her feel.

“Oh my God,” she cries, her hands buckling against my shoulders. “It’s so ... it’s too much ... it’s ohhh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yes.” And then she lets go of her hold on me. Her pussy walls are still pulsing against my mouth, and I softly run my tongue over her throbbing folds again, then again.

As she catches her breath, I run my tongue up from her pussy, across her stomach, over her tits, until I am above her. With my forearms resting on either side of her, I hover over her perfect body.

“You like that, JoJo?”

Her eyes close, as if she is thinking of the perfect word to use to describe her orgasm.

“It felt like I was suspended in air,” she says, her eyes open. I push her hair from her forehead and listen. “I was scared I’d crash and burn, but instead I flew.”

I kiss her again, her taste still on my mouth, but I can’t help it. The kiss is gentle, warm, filled with satisfaction.

My cock though, is still hard as a rock and needs to be stroked. She must feel it through my jeans, because her hands reach down, unbuttoning my pants. I kick them off, wanting my skin against hers so badly. She pulls off my shirt, and our chests press together.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“No strings?”

“None.”

“Then yes,” she says. “Yes, please.”

I grab a condom and roll it onto my bulging cock. She watches me silently from the floor, and in a moment I return to her.

“Fill me up,” she says in whisper.

I nod, ever so slightly, and slide into her wet pussy. It’s still so tight, so narrow, so new.

“Is it okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s just so tight.” Her eyes squeeze shut in pain, and I feel like shit for hurting her. “Just go in all the way. It’s okay.”

I do my best to ease myself into her as gently as possible.

“Are all guys like this?” she asks. “So ... big?”

I smile. “No one else is like this.”

She laughs, and that helps distract her as I make my way inside her.

“Ohhhh,” she moans. “It’s better when you’re all the way in.”

“Girl, I’m not all the way in.”

“Really?”

“Really. But it’s enough for now.” I rock against her, wanting to watch her every expression as my cock penetrates her deeply, in a different way than when she rode me in the locker room today. I can tell she likes it, me on top of her, my cock filling her to her core.

Her tits move up and down as I thrust tenderly. Her red locks fall over them and I brush her hair aside, wanting to see her tight little nipples.

“Oh, girl, I’m gonna come in you.” I plunge deeper and she moans in pleasure, so I move again, and again, that way, with a hard ending, until she can’t say a word, until all that is left is her heavy pants as she comes again.

And I do, too. I swear I come so good and long it’s like I haven’t fucked in a week, but it is just the build-up of one afternoon. This girl has worked me over, head to toe.

“When you say no strings … does that mean tomorrow is off limits?” I ask. “Because damn it, JoJo, I need to teach you to suck my cock. I’ve never come like that in my life.”

She blushes, her fair skin filled with color, and she covers her face with her hands.

“McQueen, you’re too much.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, baby. There’s never too much when it comes to me.”

* * *

We’re lying side by side, and my eyes look up to the clock overhead.

“Crap, it’s already eleven?

“Yeah, you got a curfew or something?” he asks.

“I do, actually. Midnight.”

“No wonder you’re a twenty-three-year-old virgin. You still live at home? You said your family was involved in your life, but maybe you should get a place of your own?”

I don’t want to talk to McQueen about where I live and why, because it would kill the mood.

And the mood is still hot. When he said he wanted me to suck his cock ... it’s all I can imagine. Getting on my knees, tasting him the way he tasted me.

Okay. Get a grip.

I take a deep breath.

“I don’t mind the curfew. It’s for my own good, anyway. There’s some shady stuff in Vegas.”

“Shit, I know.” McQueen shakes his head. “There’s some seriously fucked-up gangsters in this town. I had no idea when I moved here. I was so naive. Then everything that went down with Emmy’s sister a few months back, it really opened my eyes.”

“Emmy is Ace Royalle’s wife, right?”

“Yeah. Her sister got all caught up in this drug cartel; there was a car crash and she ended up dead. I had no clue that shit was happening. I was just dancing for ladies at the bachelorette parties, totally clueless.”

I sit up, knowing I need to dress and get home, not at all interested in the direction of this conversation. I know plenty about that accident, and don’t want to go there with McQueen. What he doesn’t know will only protect him.

I pull on my shorts and tank top. He dresses, too, and soon enough we’re assembled. Though I need a shower desperately.

“Well, thanks,” I say, offering him a fist bump.

He shakes his head, grinning, running his hand over his jaw. “Girl, you are seriously fucking with my head.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never been fist-bumped post-coitus before is all. Most girls want my digits. Or social security number.”

“I’m not most girls.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “You’re
different
.”

He raises an eyebrow, and I can’t help but smile at his lines. They’re damn good.

“Well, you can walk me to my car, if you want?” I grab my gym bag and sling it over my shoulder.

“Let me carry that, then,” he says, taking it from me.

We leave the gym, making sure the lights are off and the door is locked behind us, and I pull my keys from my purse. Clicking the key fob toward my Mercedes, I turn to him. “Well, here we are.” I open the passenger door and he sets the bag on the seat.

“Nice ride.” His eyebrows raise, impressed. I know he can’t figure me out, and that’s perfectly all right.

I’m suddenly nervous, feeling like this is a date or something, unsure how the night will end.

“So,” he starts. “I’ll see you around.”

“Sounds good.” I tell him, knowing I can’t give in to a kiss with him out here, in public.

“Hey, what’s that,” he asks, reaching to the windshield wiper where an envelope is tucked safely under it.

“No idea.” I take it from him. My name is on the front: Josephine O’Malley.

“O’Malley?” he asks, as if trying to remember something.

I don’t answer; I just tear open the seal.

Inside is a single photograph.

My stomach drops. My heart falls.

I let out a gasp, and the photograph falls from my trembling fingers.

“What is it?” McQueen picks it up from the sidewalk. “Holy shit, who took this?” He looks around the empty street, the dark night.

“I don’t know.” My eyes fill with tears born from terror.

The photograph is of me this afternoon.

Naked.

In the locker room.

On top of McQueen.

T
he picture captures
JoJo and me in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. What the actual fuck?

I look at JoJo. Her whole body is trembling. This girl is terrified, and all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and keep her safe.

I don’t know what’s fucking happening to me, but it’s like some caveman instincts are kicking in. I gotta protect my woman.

I swallow the thoughts.
My woman?
What the hell? Somewhere between taking this girl’s virginity and a late night hook-up, I’m completely captivated.

She is something to value, to treasure, something I’d be a fool to let fall through my fingers.

“Who would do this?” I ask, pulling her close to my chest. As I do, I look down the street. I wanna find this fucker and make him pay.

She pulls away, looking furtively around the dark streets. “No, McQueen, we can’t be together. They could be here—anywhere. Watching us.”

“Who could be here? Who’s
they
?”

She squeezes her eyes shut, as if she can’t bear to face the facts. Someone is blackmailing her, or threatening her—doing some seriously fucked-up shit to her.

“You have to tell me,” I say again. My face fills the photograph as much as her naked ass does, as much as her creamy skin, her bright red hair. The photo shows her riding me in the locker room, and you can’t see her face … but shit, mine is pretty damn easy to ID.

“I’m sorry, McQueen. I just—I can’t talk about it here. I don’t even want to be out here. It feels dangerous.”

“I’m not letting you go anywhere alone.”

Her eyes are full of tears. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Can you go home? Do you feel safe there?”

She wipes the tears away, speaks so quietly I almost miss her words. “I’m scared that my dad might have been sent the same picture. If he was, he’ll kill me. I need to know who took this … or who they work for.”

I scan this girl’s face, trying to understand what mess she’s wrapped up in, what mess her family is wrapped up in. Earlier, I got the feeling there was some sketchy stuff in her home.

Shit, she’s a grown-ass woman, and yet she can’t live on her own. She’s gotta do what her daddy says, can’t tell them about her plans for fighting. But this—the complete terror in her face—is something else.

“Come to my place tonight. I’ll make sure you’re safe,” I tell her.

She hesitates. “I don’t know. Your face is in that photo, too … neither of us are safe.”

“Seriously?” I take a hard look at her, knowing there’s a hell of a lot she isn’t telling me, but not really caring about my own safety. Right now I’m just concerned about hers. “You’re coming with me, JoJo.”

Her shoulders drop slightly, and it’s as if hearing my unwavering words fortifies her. It should. I can fucking keep this girl safe for one goddamned night.

She bites her lip, eyeing her Mercedes. “I can’t leave my car here.”

“That’s okay. I’ll drive it to my place, park it in the garage. I can come tomorrow and get my own wheels.”

She nods, looking back down at the photo. She’s a smart girl, and her current inability to make a decision tells me she’s completely overwhelmed.

I can help make this easier.

“Hey, Jo,” I say softly. “Let’s get you in the car, okay?” I open the passenger door and help her inside. Taking the keys from her shaking hand, I get in the other side. Turning on the car, I take her hand in mine, squeeze it tightly. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know my family.” She looks straight ahead, out the window, numb. Not at all like the fierce fighter in the ring this morning.

Right now she looks beat up, with a bruised heart, a battered mind. Putting the car in drive, I’m determined to find out why.

* * *

I didn’t notice that he started driving, let alone that he pulled up to a house. All I remember is seeing the photo, freaking out, and then him telling me he was going to take care of me.

I blink, hearing McQueen’s voice tell me we’re here, at his place.

I pull my gym bag out of the car with me. Stepping into the cool air of the garage, I quickly see McQueen’s place is a lot different than the mansion I live in.

“Wait here,” he tells me. “I’m gonna check the house first.”

I wait a few minutes, and when he returns, giving me the all-clear, I follow him inside.

Walking into the house, I step over a pile of tennis shoes in the doorway, and McQueen slips his off into the heap. I keep mine on, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable in a way I wasn’t out on the street.

My chest tightens; fear lodges in my throat.

“What if someone is following us right now? On their way here?” I ask, pulling myself closer to him.

“It’s okay. Let me make a call.” He pulls out his phone and slides away the lock screen. He walks into a kitchen and flicks on a light.

“Who are you calling?” My eyes adjust to the lighting. McQueen’s place is unremarkable. It looks as generic as a model home. I don’t know why I’m noticing the details, except that maybe it’s easier to focus on McQueen’s suburban house than the reality of my life.

A leather couch sits in the great room, flanked by end tables holding lamps. Everything look like it could have been purchased at Costco. There are two stools at the granite bar in the open kitchen, but there’s no dining room table, nothing hanging on the walls. Nothing making this place his.

“I’m calling the fucking cops.”

“No,” I say, lunging for the phone.” My family may be crazy in a lot of ways, but I would never give the police a lead on them. “Are you nuts? You can’t call the cops.”

“Why the hell not? Someone is fucking with us, and we need to know who, and why.” He holds back his phone, studying me. “Unless you know something about all this. JoJo, you can talk to me.”

“No, I can’t. Trust me McQueen, it’s complicated.” I exhale sharply, knowing that coming here was a bad idea. “But you cannot involve the cops. That’s like, Rule 101 when it comes to the O’Malleys.”

I should have called my brothers before coming to this house. Peter, Paul, and John need to know about whatever danger I’m in. They have more force—and can offer me more safety—than any cop. My brothers may think I’m a stupid woman, but they’ll take my virginity less personally than my father will.

Except maybe not. They threatened to knock out the one guy I ever brought home. If they get wind of what McQueen and I did this afternoon, they might castrate him.

Or worse.

I swallow, shaking my head at my own ideas. I can’t call my brothers. I’d be leaking my own story. Best case scenario, the photographer was some creeper at the gym who got off by freaking us out.

Worst case, it has something to do with my father, with my impending marriage to Grotto…. I don’t know. Someone wants me to look bad, wants to freak me out.

And I don’t know which it is. But if I start explaining things to McQueen, he’ll know too much. And that will put him in a zone that looks nothing like a no-strings-attached scenario. If I tell McQueen, suddenly he’ll be caught up in my life in a way that will hurt him.

In a way that will possibly destroy him.

I can’t make my complicated family his responsibility.

“I really think I should go.” I take my keys from where he dropped them on the counter. “Look, I appreciate you bringing me here, but I don’t think it will help anything.”

“No way. JoJo, listen, if you won’t let me call the cops, then let me at least get a security team here. Ace and Landon both have crews they use. I’ll get people here to watch the place, for the night at least. It’s after midnight, and nothing is going to be solved tonight. Besides, you’re still shaking. You can’t drive anywhere.”

I look at the clock on the microwave. He’s right, it’s late. Late enough that someone will notice I’m past my curfew.

“I’m past my curfew.” I shake my head. What twenty-three-year-old woman talks this way? “Let me call Lucy and see if she can cover for me.”

“Will your dad care that you aren’t at his house?”

“They know Lucy.” I grab my phone from my gym bag. “You call your security people, and I’ll deal with this.”

He nods and turns to make a call, and I text Lucy.

Me:
Don’t freak. I’m at a guy’s house. He’s safe, from the gym. And I’m using you as my cover to my dad.

Lucy responds right away, like a good friend … as opposed to whatever I am. Just seeing her name on my phone screen calms me down. Yes, there is some psycho taking pictures of me in the locker room, but I also just lost my V-card and I have to tell my best friend.

Lucy:
IS THIS JOJO??? Bc the Jo I know has never stayed with a guy in the three years I’ve known her. DO YOU HAVE A CONDOM? DID YOU ALREADY USE A CONDOM??

Me:
Yes. Shut up. I’ll explain tomorrow.

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks.

Lucy
: I’m freaking out right now WTF??!!! Who is this man??

I pause my typing, already feeling I’m a shit friend for ditching her tonight to help my sister. But I would be an even worse friend for holding back this information.

Me:
McQueen.

Lucy:
THE EFFING STRIPPER??? OMG WHO ARE YOU???

Me:
I love you. Sorry for being so flakey. I know. It’s all insane.

Lucy:
Is he there right now???

Me:
He’s in the kitchen. But I have to go. My dad is probably freaking out.

Lucy:
Well don’t want to piss off daddy.

Me
You know my family, Luc.

Lucy:
I know. Sorry. It’s all good. Call tomorrow. Xo.

I close my messages and debate calling my dad or texting.

McQueen is talking to someone in a muffled voice, his back facing me. It would all be easier if I just told him what was what, but I hardly know him. I was friends with Lucy for two years before I came clean-ish with her … and that was only because she knew something was up after stopping by my house and seeing my brothers packing heat.

Still, she doesn’t know about my dad, what he really does, where our money is really from. She’s a sweet but clueless girl from Orange County who moved here for college and didn’t leave. She works as a barista and lives with three roommates. She isn’t dangerous to the family.

But McQueen’s connections are different. His best friend is Ace, who has mafia ties himself. I know that Grotto—my husband-to-freaking-be—hates him. I know that my brothers joked about taking him out for being such a douchebag. I know that everyone I live with thinks guys like Ace are the ruin of the mob. Ace thinks he’s slick, but he doesn’t seem to know about the target on his back. One wrong move, and people will come after him.

I have no idea how much McQueen knows about Ace’s claim in the Italian mob, if he wanted it. Which makes the place I am standing really dangerous.

I open my contacts and dial. It picks up right away.

“Dad?” I say.

“Where are you?” he says into the phone. “Do I need to put a dog collar on you?”

“Sorry, I know it’s late.”

“You are an asset we can’t damage right now. Grotto’s father wants his son to marry a princess, not a whore.”

“I’m not doing anything.” I squeeze my eyes shut, stressed out with the amount of complications in my life right now. All I want is to get an MMA fight, yet I’m dealing with my old-school father and an arranged marriage. How is this my life? “Listen, Dad, I’m with Lucy. She isn’t feeling well and I’m going to stay with her tonight, okay?”

“Josephine, it’s after midnight. You know the rules.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for anyone to worry.”

“This is why you need to be married. You need a man to keep tabs on you.”

“I know.” I say what I know he wants to hear

“If Grotto’s out in a month, I need to keep a better eye on you. Tomorrow, we’re having a talk, with your brothers, about security.”

“Okay.”

I hang up, and slump onto the leather couch. I don’t want to face tomorrow at all. Filling Lucy in, I can handle. My family, though, is more than I can bear on my own.