Rule You (Vegas Knights Book 3)

by Bella Love-Wins

  I hadn’t been able to stop myself from thinking about Sly.

  The water lapping at my flesh had reminded me of his hands, how they’d seemed to be everywhere. The feel of it between my thighs had reminded me of his mouth.

  I was so turned on by the time I climbed out of the water, I thought I might go hunt down the vibrator that I’d used when the sexual frustration had been at an all-time high.

  Except I knew it wouldn’t do much to relieve the pressure now.

  I felt like I was going to come apart inside my skin and the only thing that would help was Sly.

  “He’s ruined me,” I said to my reflection.

  The blonde in the mirror agreed with me and we both sighed pensively. It was enough to almost make me consider regretting last night. Almost. But not quite.

  It would take a hell of a lot to actually regret it.

  The knock on the door had my heart lurching up into my throat for a brief moment and hope flooded me. Maybe it’s him—

  Immediately, my common sense intervened. “Don’t be stupid,” I muttered. He didn’t know what room I was in. He’d also made sure I understood that he’d just been looking for sex last night. While I’d had the time of my life, I doubted it had shaken the bedrock of his world. Definitely I couldn’t have been enough to make him come hunting me down.

  It was most likely room service coming back by to claim the tray I used. As the knock came again, I hurriedly jammed my arms into the sleeves of my robe, tying it shut as I quickly left the bathroom.

  The suite of rooms was enormous, the size of some people’s homes. By the time I’d gotten halfway to the door, there was another knock. “Just a second,” I called out.

  I opened the door, an apology on my lips, only to suck the words back in as I saw Sly standing there, one hand braced on the doorjamb. The other held a bottle filled with an amber-colored liquid.

  The sight of him made me feel like I’d already taken a shot of whatever alcohol he was carrying, hitting me hard and fast and leaving me lightheaded.

  “Sly.”

  His lids drooped, eyes roaming over me. “I interrupted your bath.”

  “No. I’d just finished,” I said, swallowing the lump that had just formed in my throat. The look he was giving me was enough to turn my knees to Jell-O. “Do you…um, do you want to come in?”

  He said nothing, simply stepped over the threshold. I hadn’t moved out of the way, so our bodies brushed.

  I sucked in air, desperately needing it.

  His eyes moved to my mouth.

  He didn’t touch me.

  He closed the door and leaned back against it, staring at me. “You’ve been in my head all day, Emmy.”

  “I…um…I’m having a hard time not thinking about you, too,” I admitted.

  He took a step toward me and it left little more than a breath between us. He dipped his head and murmured in my ear. “I want you again. So…do I stay? Do I go?”

  Turning my head, I let my lips brush against his. “Stay.”

  He stepped back and nodded. Then, to my surprise, he held out a hand. “Let’s have a drink.”

  Incongruously, I found it easy to talk to him, sipping bourbon from a highball glass and telling him about Topher Banks, the man the cops had tracked down after my tires were slashed one night outside the dinner show where I’d worked for almost two years in Branson. The tires were slashed, the windows busted in…and a fingerprint had been found on the body of the car, right next to the wheel on the left front side. One belonging to Banks, who had a history of harassing women.

  He’d actually done time for it, too. He was found guilty of assaulting the last woman he’d become obsessed with and it wasn’t exactly reassuring to learn that.

  “He got smarter after the cops talked to him, started calling from a pre-paid cellphone and he’d sit and wait for me in the parking lot across from where I worked. He’d always make sure I saw him but he never really…got close. At least at first,” I said.

  Sipping the bourbon, I met his eyes over the glass. “Why do you want to hear all of this anyway?”

  “Because I don’t like cowards and it helps me to understand how he thinks,” Sly said, shrugging. “If he shows up here, I want to know how he might go about trying to get in contact with you.”

  I shuddered at the thought.

  A warm, hard hand stroked down my back and Sly leaned in. “I’m not going to let him hurt you,” he said, his lips brushing my ear. “I’ll rip his dick off and feed it to him an inch at a time if he so much as tries.”

  I made a face. “Such an image,” I told him, tipping my head back to meet his eyes. Unable to help myself, I reached up and cupped his cheek. He had a heavy growth of gingery stubble on his face and the feel of it against my hand was scratchy. I liked it and wondered how it would feel against other parts of me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I already told you,” he said. He took my hand and brought it to his lips. Holding my eyes, he pressed a hot, wet kiss to the center of my palm, then, as we stared at each other, he took my index finger into his mouth, sucking on it. How in the world something like that could be sexy, I didn’t know. But it was. I wanted to feel that mouth on other parts of me, and I wanted to put my mouth on him.

  “Your eyes just go so dark,” he said, letting go of my wrist. “What are you thinking?”

  I blushed hotly red.

  He laughed, a low, sexy sound that made my nipples tighten and stab into my robe. “Now you have to tell me,” he said, edging closer to me, until just his hips were perched on the stool where he sat and his thighs bracketed mine. “I’ve got to know what put the roses in your cheeks, Emmy.”

  “I…” Dragging my tongue across dry lips, I floundered. Could I tell him?

  He watched me with raw, naked hunger in his eyes and it was that desire that gave me courage. He didn’t seem to hide anything about himself. Why should I hide the fact that I wanted him?

  “I was thinking that I wanted to feel you sucking on other parts of me,” I said. My cheeks burned as I said it, but I met his eyes. “And I…I want to do the same to you.”

  One second stretched out into two, then three.

  Just when I started to fidget, he shoved both hands into my hair, moving so suddenly I dropped the bourbon and the glass hit the marble countertop hard enough to shatter. I don’t think it did, but if it had, I wouldn’t have cared.

  Sly’s mouth came down on mine with focused, intent hunger and I opened for him on a moan. His tongue stabbed into my mouth as I grabbed at his wrists, seeking something to ground me. The kiss was short and hot and dirty, him using his tongue the same way he’d used his cock last night. When he broke away, it was just for a few seconds, long enough to say, “You want to suck and bite on me? Do it. Suck on my tongue. Bite it. Bite me, suck me wherever the hell you want.”

  He kissed me again and this time, when he thrust his tongue into my mouth, I bit him.

  He shuddered and let go of my hair with one hand, reaching for me and hauling me against him. He straightened from the chair so that he stood upright, his body supporting the weight of mine. Coiled strength lay inside him and I could feel it pulsing against me.

  I swept my tongue across his lower lip and he opened more, inviting me in.

  When I acquiesced, he caught my tongue and sucked.

  Stars seemed to explode behind my eyes.

  He boosted me up then, pulling his mouth from mine to mutter, “Wrap your legs around me.”

  I did so and shivered at the feel of his cock rubbing against me.

  “How sore are you?” he demanded.

  “I’m…” I floundered for the right answer. “Just a little.”

  “Are you sure?” He carried me over to the couch and sat me down then reached for my face. “I want to drive my dick into you so hard, you feel me in your throat, but if you’re sore…”

  “Just a little,” I admitted, trying not to whimper and beg yes, please.

  His ey
es narrowed in speculation still.

  “I’ve got…um…” Licking my lips, I admitted, “I’ve got vibrators. They probably made it a little easier.”

  Something hot lit his eyes. “You like to play with yourself.”

  If I blushed any hotter, I might spontaneously combust. But his eyes seemed to command an answer from me, so I gave it. “Yes,” I whispered, shivering a little as the hand on my ass spread wide, tugging me into closer contact with him.

  “What else do you like?” he murmured, leaning in to nuzzle my neck.

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to know if you’ve never done anything.”

  “But you have…you bought yourself a vibrator when you were still a virgin. You do yoga naked. You’re a sexy little piece of work, Emmy…and I bet you’ve got ideas of things you’d like to play at.” He straightened then, standing before me with an expression that was almost…aloof. “Like…maybe this.”

  He passed a hand in front of me. When he did it again, there was a scarf of rose red in his hands.

  I gasped, but the real shock came when he tied it over my eyes. “Ever thought about things like this, Emmy?” he whispered against my lips.

  “Yes.”

  “What about…” He caught my wrists.

  I started to breathe hard as he secured them at the base of my spine, keeping the restraint loose enough and I had a feeling if I tried, I could’ve freed myself. “What are we doing, Sly?” I whispered.

  “I play all sorts of games, Emmy. Want to play with me?” He trailed a hand up my arm.

  I was excruciatingly aware of the rasp of his roughened palm over my softer skin, felt my robe blocking him, and hated the barrier. Did I want to play?

  “Yes,” I breathed out.

  “Good,” he replied as he closed one hand over my breast and his mouth over mine. I went to bite his lip and he pulled back. “Not tonight, sugar. Tonight…I get to bite, and suck, and fuck.”

  I whimpered but the sound was swallowed by his kiss, a deep, ravenous, torrid kiss that sapped me of what little strength I had left. It ended with him whispering against my mouth. “After seeing you all stretched out and doing yoga, I’ve wondered one thing…just how flexible are you, Emmy?”

  The words didn’t make sense at first, but then I found myself arched back over the couch, head upside down.

  It was disorienting at first, but Sly gave me time to adjust as he rubbed his thumbs in small circles over my hipbones. “Are we good?” he asked just as my head stopped spinning.

  It took a bit longer than it should’ve, thanks to the blindfold, but I nodded. “I’m fine.”

  I wasn’t. My heart was racing in my chest, my pulse hammering, and blood roared in my ears. It had nothing to do with my position and everything to do with how the location of his voice had changed, coming from a couple feet over my head, to almost level with me.

  I gasped then, because just as I’d figured out he’d knelt down, he leaned in and placed his mouth on my pussy. “I…” he murmured with one slow lick. “Am going…” Another lick, deeper this time. “To eat…” He speared me with his tongue, then thrust two fingers in. “You…up.”

  And he did. I was breathless, unable to think or feel anything that wasn’t his mouth on me, his fingers working inside me and circling my clit.

  Then he stopped and picked me up, all of it so sudden, my head really started to spin.

  “I…what…” My voice sounded like a kitten’s plaintive mewl.

  “Where’s this toy of yours?” he asked, voice brusque.

  “In my bedroom.” Shuddering, I told him, “The nightstand.”

  He carried me to the bedroom. Although I couldn’t see, I recognized the feel of the mattress below me. Cool air drifted across my skin, the robe no barrier. My nipples tightened and I shifted restlessly as the sounds of him opening, then closing a drawer came to my ears.

  Then the bed went down under his weight and I sucked in a breath.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said you liked to play,” Sly said, his voice just shy of a groan. “Which is your favorite?”

  “The one with the butterfly.”

  Something clicked on and I knew exactly which one it was.

  “Why?” He was between my thighs now and in that moment, I hated the blindfold. My hands, pinned beneath me, strained against the bonds. I wanted to grab at him, grab at the blindfold, but all I could do was try to see through the red material and tug against the bonds on my wrists.

  Even that small act was an eroticism of its own.

  “Why, Emmy?” Sly asked again, his voice lower, rougher.

  “I…” The spit had dried in my mouth and I had to force the words to come. “I like the way it feels.”

  “Where?” He moved and I moaned as he pressed the very tip of the vibrating toy to my entrance. “Tell me where.”

  “My clit…please, Sly!”

  He responded by sliding the toy completely inside me, screwing it just a little where it thickened in the middle. Why hadn’t I ever done that? It felt so… Wailing, I arched up, desperate for more, then the fluttering wings of the butterfly attachments were moving against my clit and I almost couldn’t stand it.

  “Don’t come yet,” he told me.

  “I don’t think I can stop it.”

  “You can. Otherwise, I’ll…” He started to pull the toy out.

  “Don’t you dare,” I said, fighting the orgasm that was already building inside me.

  “Good girl…you can come when I say you can.”

  The words served only one purpose…to make me even hotter than I’d already been.

  Involuntarily, my hips started to rock against the sex toy, seeking more, a deeper contact that it could give me, but oh…the way those wings felt.

  Sly chuckled as he covered my belly with his hand. “You’re so fucking hot, Emmy.”

  I whimpered, twisting against the toy. “I can’t stop it much longer, Sly. I can’t…”

  “If you come before I tell you, I’m going to spank you. How about that?”

  I came.

  I came so hard, so massively, it wrenched the muscles in my belly, stole the air from my lungs, and locked me in place.

  “Fuck…” Sly breathed out.

  Abruptly, the toy was pulled away and he flipped me over. I moved my hips, still seeking to be filled as the orgasm went on and on, and then I was filled—with him, his cock stretching and pushing and I thought the pleasure might kill me.

  His hand came down hard on my ass.

  I jerked in shock, still riding the wave of my orgasm.

  He did it again and reached down, fisting a hand in my hair. With exquisite care, he pulled me upright, tucking me snug against him so that I sat impaled on his cock. “I told you I’d spank you, sugar,” he drawled against my ear before sinking his teeth into my neck and biting me. Marking me. “What do you think about that?”

  “More…” That was the only thing I could muster.

  He grunted as he caught my hips and lifted me. “Not tonight. You’re too new to this. Fuck, you hug my cock like you were made for me.”

  The words made me shiver.

  Or maybe it was the way he slid one arm around my waist, his palm cupping my breast so he could tweak my nipple. He rolled his hips, barely moving inside me, but his cock pulsed and sent all sorts of shivery, delightful tremors shuddering through me.

  “More,” I moaned again.

  But he kept up that lazy pace, buried so deep inside me, even the slightest movement had him rubbing against my G-spot. It was heaven and hell, paradise and perdition all at once.

  Then he slid his free hand between my thighs and flicked the sensitive bud of my clit.

  I lost it again.

  “That’s it…milk me…ride me…” he muttered.

  And I was. I don’t even know when he’d freed my wrists, but at some point, he’d done that and I’d reached back, grasping his sides to brace myself as I rose up and down, taking him as deep as I could.<
br />
  We both came this time, intense and spasm-like shudders wracking us as he filled me, as I took him.

  It was…everything.

  13

  Sly

  I had one week of bliss before reality cold-cocked me right in the face.

  I was at her place when the nightmare hit, wrapped around her with my fist in her hair and our legs tangled together.

  At some point, I started clutching at her like she was an oversize doll, and I know I must have scared her.

  The nightmares scared me.

  Being the observer couldn’t be any picnic, especially when some guy is holding you prisoner in your own bed and forcing you to go along for the ride.

  It was her voice that brought me out. Her voice, calm and soothing…and singing.

  She was singing to me.

  Sweating like a damn pig, all but shaking with humiliation, I lay there with Emmy curled up against me, her hand over my heart and a voice like honeyed whiskey, singing, of all things, that song from the kid’s play, Annie. I’d never liked the song. At all. But hearing it in Emmy’s smooth, sinful voice turned it into a different song altogether.

  But I couldn’t lie there and enjoy it.

  The nightmares always twisted me, and tonight was no different. It was actually worse, the twists it had taken—fuck, how had Emmy ended up getting dragged into my nightmares? I had no idea, but it was enough to make me sick.

  Untwining myself from her, I sat up and swung my legs off the edge of the bed.

  She stopped singing and the two of us sat there in the dark, wrapped up in a silence that became suffocating.

  “Sing something else,” I heard myself say.

  And she did.

  “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” followed by “Rocky Top” followed by “Amazing Grace.” She slid into what sounded like an Irish ballad and damn if I didn’t feel a knot lodge in my throat at that.

  “Where did you learn that one?”

  “I went to Ireland and Wales with Angel when I was a kid. I heard a lady singing it in a pub and I started singing along.” Her hand came to rest on my back.