Free Wild Aces by Marni Mann Page B

distracting you from your work?”
    He laughed. It was the most delicious sound. “Yeah, you could say that.”
    “Tell me about Vegas. I want to picture myself there with you.”
    “It’s cold. Loud. Colorful. It smells like smoke and defeat. And it’s missing something pretty significant.”
    “What’s that?”
    “You.”
    I wiggled in bed from his response.
    “Did you play a hard-ass today, or were you easy on everyone…but me?” he asked.
    “I’m a hard-ass every day. That’s what my clients are paying me for. You’re just fortunate enough to actually get to see my ass.”
    “And damn…that ass.”
    Now, I was smiling and wiggling. “Is it your favorite part of me?”
    “No,” he answered so quickly and sounded so honest. “Your eyes are my favorite.”
    “Why is that?”
    “I’m an expert at reading eyes, so when I looked at yours, I knew what you were feeling and what you wanted from me.”
    “And that was?”
    “My mouth.”
    I laughed, feeling heat spread over my cheeks. “Are you sure that’s all I wanted from you?”
    “Your body might have wanted more, but the reason your eyes were urging me to stay was because you wanted to get to know me.”
    “Interesting. So, what would my eyes be telling you right now?”
    “How much you want me to touch you.” His voice deepened. “So, touch yourself for me, Brea.”
    I quivered from the sound of his demand. “Where, Trapper?” The feel of his name in my throat only fed the sparks.
    “Your pussy. Touch it gently. And tell me everything you’re doing to it…”
    Oh, it was on. “My legs are spreading…slowly…and I’m sliding my fingers inside my panties.” The lace let my fingers easily dip in. “Now, I’m rubbing up and down my clit…up…and down…up…and down.” The ups came with a gasp; the downs came with a moan.
    “Fuck,” he hissed, his voice becoming raspy. “How does it feel?”
    “Good. So good.” I imagined that making him hard. “But it would feel so much better if it were you plunging into all this wetness.” There was no background noise in the phone this time, just the rush of movement.
    “Check your texts,” he told me.
    “Okay.” I rested the phone on my chest and clicked on his text box.
    He had sent me a picture of his hand, his broad palm, and his strong long fingers. His wrist was wrapped in several leather straps, and hints of his dark tattoos peeked out from beneath them.
    I wanted to lick that fucking ink.
    “Now, you don’t have to imagine it,” he said. “You know exactly what I’d be touching you with, what would be sliding in and out of your soft, wet pussy if I were with you right now.”
    Good God, this man was perfect. A picture of his cock might have been a tad sexier, but that would have killed the surprise of finding out what was really beneath that zipper once we finally reached that point. And that was one surprise I didn’t mind waiting for.
    I stared at his hand while I rubbed, imagining that was what was touching me. “Even your fingers are hot, Trapper.”
    “Close your eyes, and press against the top of your clit. Then slowly swipe to the very bottom. And while you’re doing that, picture my mouth above your nipples, blowing on them…my tongue licking them…”
    I could actually feel it.
    “Making them so fucking hard before I suck them between my teeth.”
    “I’m even wetter now,” I moaned, feeling the build within my little bud. “And I’m so close.”
    “Now, push two fingers inside you. I want them deep.”
    I did as he said.
    “I want your other hand on your nipple, tugging it until you’re on the verge of screaming.”
    My legs were shaking from how close I was to coming.
    “Are your fingers where I want them, Brea?”
    “They’re on their way.”
    “Good. Now, fuck yourself…with my fingers.”
    I moaned.
    “Don’t stop, and don’t you dare lighten your movements.”
    The phone was now resting on the pillow, close enough to hear him