Free McQUEEN: Las Vegas Bad Boys by Frankie Love

sleep.”
    “Then let’s get you to bed. The security team is here; we’re safe.”
    I take her hand and pull her up. She nods, and follows my lead.
    “I have a guest room across from mine,” I tell her as we take the stairs. “You can sleep there.”
    “Oh. Okay.”
    I swear there’s a hint of disappointment in her voice. I’ll fucking take an in wherever I can find one with this girl.
    “You want to sleep with me? Is that what you’re saying?” I ask, both of us stopping in the doorway to the guest room.
    “I know you said there are security guys out front … but I’d still feel better if I weren’t alone.” She pauses, looking at her toes. “Maybe that sounds forward. I don’t know. I just—I don’t want to be by myself.” She rushes forward with her words. “We don’t have to do anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”
    I step toward her, pushing her gently to the other side of the hall. To my room.
    “Oh, I’m not worried at all.” I grin, pulling my tee-shirt over my head. “I’m gonna sleep next to you, and you’re gonna dream of me all night long—and when you wake up, all nice and rested, I’m gonna teach you how to suck my cock, just like you asked.”
    JoJo lets out a soft moan, as if remembering her words back at the gym earlier tonight. Or maybe she’s just enjoying my ripped abs, the way my shorts hang low on my waist, narrowing into my massive cock—the one she doesn’t get until tomorrow. Because tonight this girl needs to sleep.

    * * *
JoJo
    McQueen and I stand in his barren bedroom. A king-sized mattress is situated in the middle, on the floor, covered with blankets. A pile of folded laundry is in a corner, and an open closet reveals a walk-in closet, mostly empty.
    “The bathroom is there,” he says pointing to the other door in the master suite. “Do you need something to sleep in?”
    “Thanks. A tee-shirt, I guess?”
    He walks to the folded laundry and pulls out a cotton tee. I take it from him, feeling so awkward all of a sudden. Wasn’t it just a few hours ago we were naked in one another’s arms? And now I feel weird slipping off my clothes and getting in bed with him.
    But I want to be in bed with him. I want him to wrap his arms around me and hold me tight. He’s like a big bear—so solid, so firm. And I want him to protect me, even if it is asking way too much.
    Still, as he walks toward me, helping me ease my shirt over my head, helping pull down my gym shorts, as I kick off my tennis shoes, I think that maybe he wants to protect me, too.
    And I know this is all going to end the moment we wake up and face reality, but right now I can let him be the bear I need.
    “It’s gonna be okay, JoJo,” he tells me, slipping his clean shirt over my head. “Tomorrow is a new day.”
    “Promise?”
    “Promise.”
    We get in bed silently, and he pulls me into his arms, just like I wanted. The idea of sleeping in a man’s bed for the first time should terrify me … but McQueen doesn’t scare me.
    My face is nuzzled against his chest and he smells like safety, like freshly-cut grass and fresh air and honey. Which is a weird thought, because I know he’s been going hard all day … and we live in the freaking desert—there’s no grass anywhere. Yet he smells like a childhood I never had. And even if he is a stripper who’s rumored to sleep with a different woman everyday, right now, he feels pure. And all I want is to stay wrapped in his arms and be held by him.
    “Goodnight, JoJo,” he whispers in the dark bedroom.
    “Goodnight, McQueen,” I whisper back, realizing I don’t even know his first name—but also realizing that, right now, it doesn’t matter.

    * * *
    I n the early morning hours , I wake. McQueen is curled up behind me, spooning me with his hands over my shirt—not under, which I find pretty damn attractive. If he was going to try to get away with something, this was the night to do it.
    I keep my eyes closed, wanting to fall