Free McQUEEN: Las Vegas Bad Boys by Frankie Love Page B

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.