McQUEEN: Las Vegas Bad Boys

by Frankie Love

The last thing I want to do is fuck over my family and screw the men out of work, the wives out of food for their kids, the kids out of their homes.

  It isn’t something I should take lightly … but I did. In a moment of lust, of desire, I forgot what I’m supposed to stand for. My family may be fucked up, but we also stick together.

  Which is a hell of a lot better than other families I see. Even McQueen says he hasn’t been home in over a year. How is that a family?

  I don’t know how I’ll show my face to my brothers and father later today. I need to come clean, just tell them what happened and ask for their help. The God’s honest truth is that the moment I heard about my wedding, I fell into McQueen’s arms, and then the picture was taken.

  And then instead of going straight to them … I went back to McQueen.

  What does that say about me?

  I don’t want to know.

  Beside me, McQueen stirs. His breath is warm against my skin, and I instantly curl closer to him. When I do, I feel his cock hard against my ass.

  The right thing to do is to crawl out of the bed, to go to the bathroom, shower. Get in my car. Drive home.

  But the idea of the confession makes me want to vomit.

  I can’t do that yet. It’s only four in the morning, anyway. I can stay here awhile longer, in this make-believe cocoon.

  I roll over and face McQueen. Feeling his hardness against my core, I realize something I’m ashamed to admit. Even if I could have a do-over, if I could have avoided McQueen yesterday, not given him my virginity … I wouldn’t want to change a thing.

  Even though it’s dangerous, and I know every second that I stay in his arms could hurt him even more, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to move.

  Does that make me selfish? A monster? A whore?

  I don’t know.

  I just know instead of walking out of his house at first dawn, I nestle deeper in his arms.

  Chapter Ten

  McQUEEN

  Fuck. My cock is hard as rock.

  I can’t think of the last time I woke up with a woman in my bed. I always call an Uber post-sex and get them gone before daybreak. Yeah, we’ll have had our fair share of fun, but it always has an expiration date.

  But with JoJo’s little body, so taut and creamy, wrapped up in my arms when I wake, I realize I’ve been missing out on a whole lot of fun. Because damn, my cock is never this hard when I wake up all by my lonesome.

  “Morning,” JoJo says, her voice tired, her eyes meeting mine.

  “Sleep okay?” I ask, my hands running over her back, landing on her tight ass.

  She nods, ever so slightly, but it’s obvious she didn’t. No fucking surprise. She was beyond worked up last night.

  “Look, I wish I knew what was going on. But I understand if you don’t feel like you can trust me,” I tell her. “And since you don’t want to talk, maybe you wanna play?”

  My cock twitches at the idea of her soft lips covering my rod. Damn, I’m imagining it a little too clearly. I feel like I could explode before we’ve even begun.

  JoJo looks up at me; the mischievous glint I saw yesterday at the gym has returned.

  “I’ve never heard of playing when you wake up in the morning. I tend to shower, get dressed, make a pot of coffee.”

  “Oh, girl, you’ve been missing out, then. So many years without any games.”

  I pull her on top of me and a tiny laugh escapes her mouth.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this.” Her eyes tell me she’s holding way too many things back, but her tight nipples and damp panties tell me a thing or two as well. She’s a beautiful contradiction, and I want to make every part of her agree, until she can’t remember why she ever thought to hesitate.

  “Sweetheart, if we’re gonna start the day talking about shouldn’ts, we’re never gonna get out of this bed.”

  She doesn’t answer me with words, just nods ever so slightly and leans in for a kiss.

  Her mouth is as sweet as I remembered, and as lush as I dreamed. She’s fucking hot as hell and she’s in my bed, in my old tee-shirt, and my cock is hard. Who the hell is this girl and what has she done to me in less than twenty-four hours?

  I sit up, holding her in my lap. Her legs wrap around me, and her arms circle my neck. I take her shirt off and her little tits are right there begging to be sucked.

  I run my tongue over her hard nipple, thinking about running my tongue across her soft folds, too. Her body seems to melt into mine, and my fingers tug at the waistband of her panties, wanting them off so I can see her pussy again, so I can begin exploring her with my fingers—because yesterday I hesitated, for fear of hurting her.

  “I want to touch you,” she whispers in my ear.

  “How badly?”

  “So bad. So very bad. Let me see you, McQueen.”

  I get out of bed, and hitch my thumbs in the waistband of my boxer briefs.

  “I thought we were playing games?” I smirk, seeing her brow raised in question.

  “What’s the game?” she asks, lying buck naked on my bed, her chin resting in her hand.

  “Truth or dare.”

  “Dare,” she says without hesitating.

  “Oh … a girl scared of telling the truth.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Okay.” I shrug. “I was hoping to learn your deep, dark secrets, but I’ll settle for a dare that will make us both happy.”

  “And what is that?”

  “You can give me a lap dance.”

  “No way,” she says, laughing, covering her face with a pillow. “No way, McQueen. Never.”

  “Never? Girl, you’re such a fucking cock tease.”

  She huffs indignantly, kneeling on the bed. “Not fair.” She points a finger at me, her tits bouncing as she moves, so unselfconscious in this stolen moment filled with smiles and teasing. “You’re a professional dancer. I can’t dance for you. I’d be way too embarrassed.”

  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 wit
h 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.”

  “I know, but I’ve avoided bringing guys into my life for a reason. I don’t want to drag you into my drama.”

  “Well, if your plan is to go home and tell your father about the pervert taking your picture at a gym he doesn’t know you’re training at, he’s gonna be looking for me, ready to kick my ass, in about five minutes flat.”

  “I know.” She rolls over and sits up, wrapping the bed sheets around her. “That was why I thought if I explained things, but also made sure he knows you and I will never happen again, then maybe he wouldn’t kill you.”

  “Are we talking literally or figuratively—because, JoJo, what the fuck?”

  She throws her hands in the air, looking overwhelmed, but damned cute, to
o. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I want to retreat. Figure this out on my own. You don’t need my crap. That’s why I wanted a no-strings-attached thing with you in the first place. I knew that was all I could offer, all you wanted. It was supposed to be a perfect one-time affair.”

  “Then you ended up in my bed.”

  “And before that some creeper took photos of us in the locker room. That’s intense. Which is why I should tell my father.”

  “It’s insane,” I agree. “But running home to daddy and telling him we fucked isn’t going to solve anything. I know you’re an O’Malley and shit, I’m not gonna press you to tell me more about your family tree—I just can’t have some guy showing up and kicking my ass this week, of all weeks. So maybe don’t mention the photo until you have to.”

  “What’s happening this week?” she asks.

  “Hearts Royalle is opening. I’m the featured stripper. Have you missed seeing my fucking ass on every billboard in this town? I can’t have any bruises, no black eyes. My friends have all invested in this business and my ass is literally on the line.”

  Her eyes are wide as she suppresses a smile. “I’ve seen the billboards. I didn’t know your friends were fronting the money for it.” Falling back into the bed, she blows air from her cheeks. “Maybe call your PI. If he has a lead, it could buy us some time. It’s not that I want to tell my dad, but I also don’t want any messes for my family. But if we can figure out who took the picture without involving him, yeah, that would be ideal.”

  “You’re loyal, JoJo. Sounds like telling them about us would ruin things with your pops … yet you’re willing to do it if it’s for their best interest. That takes fucking balls.”

  “Speaking of balls….” She covers her face, but I see her eyes through her fingers. “Did I do that okay … when I, you know … sucked you off?” She’s blushing and smothers her face in a pillow.

  “Don’t play coy with me. You know I fucking liked it.” I pull her from the pillow, and we face one another, sitting on the bed. I take her hands in mine, lace our fingers. “I liked it, JoJo.”