McQUEEN: Las Vegas Bad Boys (3 page)

S
he looks at me
, from head-to-toe, and for a second I think I’ve read her completely wrong, that all that sexual tension I fucking felt out there in the ring was really just her in beast-mode.

But then she meets my eyes.

Hers are filled with fucking desire.

I’m not waiting around for her to change her mind.

I walk over to her, and pull her into my arms. Her sweat is a fucking turn-on. She’s dirty and needs to be cleaned up, and I’ll fucking wash her nice and good.

I lift her by her little ass and her legs instinctively wrap around my waist.

“You’re so strong,” she says. Her eyes flicker as if she is caught off guard.

“You just saw me lifting for three fucking hours, JoJo. You know that lifting a hundred and twenty pounds is nothing. You’re light as a feather.”

“You also make a living carrying women around.”

“Have you seen my show?” I smirk, not able to read this girl at all. I carry her to the women’s locker room, kick the door shut and lock it.

“I went once.” When my eyes widen she clarifies. “My friend insisted. But I didn’t stay.”

“Why?” I set her down; the top of her head meets the center of my chest. I use a finger to lift her chin, so she can look me in the eye.

“It’s not my thing.”

“Strippers or men in general?”

“Strippers,” she says, shaking her head at me like I’m a dork.

“That’s where you’re wrong, JoJo. I’m a stripper, and you want me.” I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts, lower them an inch. “Don’t you?”

She takes a sharp breath, and I see she’s practically drooling in anticipation of what lies beneath my shorts.

“Think you can handle a man like me?”

“I have no clue.” She gives a sharp laugh. I can’t read her, but I’m gonna try.

I pull her to me. My thick cock is growing hard, but I can’t handle her standing there one more second without pressing my lips against her mouth. I need to taste her, explore her. I need to fucking know her body.

So much of her body is solid and true, exhibiting her complete control over herself, but her lips sink into mine, like she’s desperate for them. She kisses me hungrily, as if she’s never kissed a man in her life.

And maybe she hasn’t. There are an awful lot of pussies out there in the world. Not many men like me—men who know how to a work a woman nice and good.

She moans as my tongue finds hers, and I pull her even closer, my hand on the back of her head, letting her know she can give in to me. That I can take it from here.

My cock is hard and it presses against her thighs. I want to strip her out of these clothes; I want my cock to press against her skin, then press against her pussy. I want to fuck her until she’s worn out like she’s never been from a work out. Exhausted in a way she can only get from riding me.

I kiss her hard, our mouths discovering one another, and I run my other hand through her gorgeous red hair. Her hands have travelled to my waistband, and my cock throbs at the idea of her reaching down and stroking me.

But she hesitates.

“You okay?” I ask her, pulling away from the kiss.

She’s breathing so heavy, almost like she’s dizzy. “I know I said I wanted to show you a submissive hold, but … umm. I just. I can’t.”

“What, JoJo? You want me to stop?” I try not to show annoyance. I get that this girl is a thousand kinds of complicated, but come on. We’re in a fucking locker room, post-workout, both clearly horny as hell. I can’t handle her backing out now. I’ll have to fucking jack off like a fourteen-year-old if she leaves.

“Oh, no. Don’t stop.” She looks worried, and shakes her head. “I meant that I don’t want to be the one to show you anything. I want you to be my teacher. I want you to do whatever you like.”

A smile spreads across my face—and when I grin, she does, too, like she’s relieved by my answer. Like she wants this, but just needs my help.

I can fucking take the lead.

“Then let’s start by getting you out of these clothes and washing you up.”

* * *

It’s obvious I’m over my head the moment McQueen kisses me. His lips know what they’re doing.

And the reality is, the last time I kissed a boy was back in my freshman year of college, when the guy who took me to a formal dance tried to kiss me when he dropped me off at my father’s house.

I quickly realized my family was way too complicated when two of my brothers threatened to punch him if he didn’t back the fuck away from their little sister.

I felt embarrassed, but also trapped. No matter how many guys asked me out over the years, I always, always declined. No one deserved to deal with the family I brought along.

But McQueen is different. No one in my family knows where I am ... and I absolutely know that, for a player like him, this is only about sex. I won’t be hurting anyone by having a one-afternoon-stand. Least of all him.

When I tell McQueen that I want him to lead the way, it’s a relief to see his dazzling white, perfect teeth smile, looking down at me.

But now it’s getting really real. He spins me around, smacks my ass, and we head to the shower. He turns on the water, lets it get nice and hot, and then playfully shoves me under the steaming spray.

“Oh my God, I’m in my clothes,” I scream, grabbing his bicep, trying to pull him in with me.

“Yeah, you are. I want you to get nice and wet, and then I’m going to strip you down. All the way down.”

“McQueen, you have to get in here with me. I feel stupid.”

“Don’t feel stupid. You’re fucking hot. I’m so hard looking at you like this. Your tits are so round in that tiny see-through shirt. Your nipples are hard as rocks.” He steps into the shower without hesitation and lifts the hem of my shirt, easing up the elastic of the shelf bra and pulling it off over my head.

Beads of water pour down on us. My breasts are completely uncovered. I feel exposed.

“Shut up, I’m gross after that workout. I mean, McQueen, you must see women all done up all day, everyday ... at your shows, I mean.” I look down at myself, self-conscious. But McQueen wants none of that.

“You don’t think you turn me on?” He laughs. “You have no fucking clue, woman.”

He steps out of his shorts and kicks them away. What’s left is a massive cock, hard and pointed right at me.

“Oh my God, McQueen.” I literally have to catch my breath.

“You like that?” he asks, taking my hand and placing it on his solid shaft.

“Oh. I like that,” I say, nodding, sounding like an idiot, but also just stunned. I assumed a man like him would have a big cock ... but I don’t think he understands it’s literally the only cock I’ve seen in my life.

And it’s just making me so horny. It’s so long and hard—and thick, too. As my thumb and forefinger try to circle it, I quickly realize it’s much larger than that. Which leads me to wonder ... how will this fit inside me?

“Now let’s get you out of those shorts, JoJo. I need to see what I have to work with. Need to see how ready your pussy is for me.”

I bite my lip, trying not to be a complete cliché, but just hoping he’ll like what he sees. I don’t want him to know I’m a virgin, because I’m scared it would make him hesitate, not wanting to be
that guy.

I take off my shorts and panties. They stick to my thighs because we’re completely wet, and when I try to kick them off I lose my balance and lean into him. He catches me, and suddenly our skin connects, my body is pressed against him, and his cock strains against me. His chest is solid and my breasts are aching to be touched, sucked. Felt.

I give in, then. To him. To this moment. My first time with a man. With anyone.

His hands run across my back, and my whole body is full of sensation. The steam evaporating against my slick skin, the rush of lust coursing through my veins. His lips kissing my shoulders, my collar bone, easing lower to my breasts.

My head falls back as his hands find their way to my breasts. He rolls his thumbs over my nipples; I let out a soft groan, my core ignited. His hands haven’t even run over the length of me.

Oh, God, how I want them to.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice soft, but sure. He knows how smooth he is, and I’m so glad I’m with a master charmer, because I don’t need any more asshole men in my life. Right now I need a man who knows what a woman wants.

“I do,” I pant, not able to say anything more.

“Good.” McQueen smiles, and for a moment I don’t feel less-than because I’m a woman—like a commodity, a tradable thing. I don’t feel like I have to fight, like I have to prove something. Right here, in McQueen’s arms, I just feel beautiful.

And I can’t remember ever feeling that way before.

His hand slides down to my entrance, and I ease my body slightly, giving him access to that prized place, the place no man has ever gone before. His fingers touch my folds and every hair on my body stands on end. It’s electrifying, him touching me ... him so close to what I’ve kept locked away for so long.

“Oh, baby, you’re so tight.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

He nods and turns off the water. “The water will make it harder for me to get in. Let me get you dried off and on your back, then I’ll get your pussy nice and ready for my cock. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I don’t want you to stop.”

“I won’t baby,” McQueen laughs. “Fuck, I can’t stop this show now, you know that.” He looks down at his hardness, and I swallow, realizing what he means.

“There’s a couch, around the corner,” I tell him.

“Shit, you got a couch in the locker room? What’s Kit running here? A hotel?”

I smile, knowing that couch has proven useful when I’ve needed to nap and didn’t want to go home right after a workout. But I can see how it might have other uses, too.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” he asks, grabbing a towel from the cart outside the shower and wrapping it around his waist, then handing me one.

“You have a condom, right?”

I see his eyebrows rise in surprise.

Crap.

“
Y
ou’re cute
, you know that?” I ask her. Do I have condom? Does she know who I am? Maybe not. “JoJo, I got us covered.”

“Okay.” JoJo nods, relief flooding her face. Oh, this girl is more than ready to get dirty with me. “It’s just, I’m not on the pill.”

“It’s okay, here, let’s dry you off.” I take a towel and run it over her shoulders, drying her off quickly. Her creamy skin is warm from the hot shower. Her long red hair hangs down her back, water dripping off the tips to make a puddle of water at her feet.

JoJo’s body would make other women crumble, and she isn’t like most women who know how attractive they are. JoJo is almost ... innocent. But I don’t know how that’s fucking possible. She gives off this sense of strength, like no one can mess with her. Like there’s no reason to even try. If she doesn’t want something, she’ll let you know.

But I swear she’s acting like she’s never had sex with a stranger.

Well, maybe she hasn’t.

Thank God she wants my cock right now, because I swear I’m never this spun up for a woman. And my hungry cock is throbbing to get inside her tight little pussy. I grab a condom from my shorts pocket; thankfully, the foil wrapper kept it dry.

“You always keep condoms in your pocket when you work out?”

“Hey, I’m an opportunist,” I tell her.

She blushes and licks her lips. Fuck, this girl likes opportunities, too.

I lift her again at the waist and her legs find their way around me, her arms wrap around my neck. She kisses my ear gingerly, then meets my eye to make sure I like it.

Oh, fuck yeah, I like it. She can slide her tongue across my body anywhere she likes.

The couch is around the corner, just like she said, and I sit down, with her in my lap. Her naked flesh sinks into me, and her soft skin keeps my cock alive and revved up.

The lights aren’t as bright back here, and it’s nothing like the guys locker room. No sweaty clothes or crusty towels litter the floor; this place is nice and tidy. But still, no frills. This is a barebones locker room, and as far as I know JoJo is the only female who works out here.

JoJo doesn’t seem like a frills girl at all. Shit, she was out in the gym kicking my ass for the better part of the day.

“So you’ve never had sex in the girl’s locker room?” she asks, pulling back to look at me.

I don’t think she knows how fucking hard it is to concentrate on her words when all I can think about is her warm body pressed tight against mine. Our noses nearly touch. God, I want to devour her.

“Never in
this
girl’s locker room,” I admit, smiling. “But I grew up playing football and baseball—a Midwest boy, born and raised. I’ve taken cheerleaders in a locker room plenty of times.”

“Plural? So, lots of locker room threesomes?” she asks, smirking,

“Hey, my motto is ‘the more the merrier.’”

“Will I be enough for you, then?”

“Oh, baby, you are more than enough.”

She bites her lip, hesitating, then leans in and kisses me again. Our mouths collide and create a spark that causes me to run my hands down her bare back, to her tight little ass. I squeeze her and then move my hands to her front. Her little pussy needs some attention.

I’ll give it to her.

“Should I just....” JoJo looks down at my hard cock. I nod, and she takes me in her hands. She moves up and down my shaft; her opening getting nice and wet as she touches me. Oh, hell yeah, this girl needs my cock to fill her up.

Her soft folds are nice and juicy now, and I’m glad I moved her from the shower so I can have this perfect view of her.

But I can’t wait any longer. I need her sitting in my lap properly.

I roll on the condom, and her tits move up and down as she takes in deep breaths.

“Breathe easy, baby,” I tell her. “You ever fucked a man this big before?”

“No,” she says, nearly whispering. “But, God, I want to. So bad.”

She’s nearly panting with desire, and I won’t make her wait any longer.

I lift her narrow waist, and ease her onto me. Her hand holds my thick rod, leading it into her opening.

“Oh, oh, god,” she moans softly.

“Does it hurt?” I wince. I’ve been with loads of women who are impressed with my cock. Hell, I get paid to show my package onstage, wearing a thong–and, hell no, I don’t stuff that thing. I’ve got a cock that makes women drool. But this is different.

JoJo genuinely seems to be having a hard time taking me, in a way that’s different than just needing some lube.

“It’s okay ... it’s just.” She stops, shakes her head.

“It’s what?” I ask, as she lowers herself a few inches down my cock. Oh, God, her tight pussy feels so fucking amazing.

“Nothing,” she says, adamant. “Fuck me like you would anyone else. I want it.”

I swivel my hips up, to help her onto me without force or strain. I don’t want this to be painful. She has no idea how good it’s gonna feel once she has me all the way inside her.

“I’m not gonna fuck you like anyone else, JoJo. You’re singular.”

Her eyes look worried. “This is a one-time thing, though, right. Just sex, no strings?”

“No strings,” I tell her, caught off guard a bit. Most women are dying for strings. Most women want to fucking tie my heart up with a chain and tether it to their fucking life.

I wasn’t lying when I said JoJo wasn’t like anyone else.

“Good,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Then let’s do this, McQueen. Really, really do this.”

I see that glint in her eye again, the mischievous, living-on-the-wild-side glint. A glint I’m guessing she doesn’t let herself enjoy often, given the way she hesitates so much with me.

She wraps her arms around my shoulders, sinking into me completely, moaning as she does.

“Oh, God, yes, that’s it,” I tell her.

I hold her ass, running my hands over her cheeks as I watch her grind against me nice and slow. I love watching a woman on top of me, getting herself off nice and good, but JoJo is different.

She’s enjoying this in a way I’ve never seen before, arching her back as she experiences the fullness of me. “Mmmhhhhmmm,” she hums in my ear.

She moves around, her hips intoxicating in their slow motion. She’s taking her time, and God, it’s a sight to see.

Her tits are the perfect size for my hands. I massage them softly, pulling her hard nipple into my mouth as I feel her juice pour out from her. My cock is fucking on fire as she teases me, unknowingly, with each movement she makes against my groin.

Her body moves faster as she find a rhythm that hits her g-spot, because then it’s like her faucet is turned on. I smack her ass, just completely taken away with how she pivots her body so naturally, moving herself deeper and deeper with me in her. Her moans increase, getting louder as she nears climax.

“Oh, yeah, JoJo, that feels so fucking good,” I tell her, thrusting against her as she grabs my neck highly, freezing in mid-motion as an orgasm washes over her, her voice a deep moan, completely harmonizing with her body. She stills, and I pause too, wanting her to enjoy every moment of her release.

When she closes her eyes, I move, knowing she’ll get another wave as I thrust into her again, again, again. I come, squeezing her ass as I do.

She collapses against my chest, and I hold her there, trying to catch my breath. I swear I just had the best sex of my life, and half of that pleasure came from watching JoJo get off. She was like a mermaid, moving gracefully, her long red hair dripping all over us as we fucked. Her body moving so effortlessly, it was as if she were swimming.

* * *

My body shakes in a perfect, oh my God,
was that even real?
sort of way. I get why McQueen has the reputation he has. Because whatever he just did to me was unreal. Beyond what I imagined sex could be. And I see how once would never be enough.

Although, for me, it has to be. Because my family means everything to me ... and my father is arranging my marriage.

I can’t think about that right now. Right now, McQueen is still inside of me.

“That was unreal, JoJo,” he says, as I lift myself up from his rock-hard chest, chiseled with so many muscles it makes me weak in the knees ... or actually, let’s be honest, wet between my legs.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Deflecting keeps my head in check. I know I’m not special to McQueen; I’m a fling. But he will always be special to me ... because I gave my virginity to him.

“I don’t. Not even close. You were ... different. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Don’t try. I like thinking I was good at this,” I say, smiling. I lift myself off him and fall beside him on the couch.

I look at his hardness, where the condom is still rolled on. My heart stops for a moment as I see red blood on the latex.

His eyes follow mine, and I see a flash of concern across his eyes.

“Are you on your ... period?” he asks.

I know I’m not, not for a few weeks. That blood is the result of something else. The thing I didn’t really want to tell him, because I’m guessing he’ll feel bad for taking my virginity. And right now I want him to remember this as being something very good.

But I also don’t want to lie about my cycle because that feels weird, feels immature, even if it would get me off the hook. We just shared something intimate, and even if it was a no strings hook-up it was still something meaningful to me.

I can’t lie to McQueen. I don’t want to.

“I’m for sure not on my period.”

“Then ... are you okay?” he asks, not putting it together.

“I’m okay, it was just....” I try to tell him, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. Being a fair-skinned redhead has never worked to my favor. My true emotions are always instantly on display.

It’s as if something dawns on him. His eyebrows lift, his mouth opens lightly.

I’m glad we aren’t face to face. I don’t know why my sex-status feels embarrassing ... but it just makes it more awkward.

“JoJo, are you a virgin?”

The straightforwardness of his question causes me to snort reflexively. “I was.”

“Holy shit balls.” He stands, pulls off the condom, tosses it in the trash.

I look away, not knowing what might come next. Is he pissed at me for not telling him first? Is he grossed out by the blood?

He wraps a towel around his waist, and then hands one to me. I tuck it around myself quickly, feeling exposed. Well, my one-afternoon-stand was hot as hell until my virginal status messed it up.

But then he sits back down on the couch, and takes my hands in his, lacing my fingers in his so naturally, as if knowing this simple choice would instantly put me at ease. Which I’m sure he does know; he’s the epitome of a player.

“JoJo, why didn’t you tell me before?” His tone is soft, his face concerned.

“I didn’t think you’d be game if you knew.”

He smirks, shakes his head slightly. “Well, I’m not sure if I could have resisted, to be honest. You have no fucking clue how hot you are.”

“Shut up,” I tell him, pulling my hands away. But he grabs them back.

“JoJo, honestly, listen to me. I know this was a one-time thing, that you wanted to lose your virginity for whatever reasons you had—and, don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask. It’s none of my business, honestly. But hear me on this: you are fucking amazing, and I’m a lucky man to have been your first. Because, sweetheart, you literally nailed it.”

I know my face is red and that my chest is flushed—from both the sex and the sincerity of McQueen’s speech—but for a moment, maybe even a minute, I hear him. And I feel amazing.

I wanted to go all in with him, and I did.

I have a month, give or take, until my life changes forever, on terms that aren’t my own. But this moment right here? It’s mine. And McQueen didn’t take it away from.

In fact, he made it so much better.