ACE: Las Vegas Bad Boys (4 page)

“To the castle?”
Boss
grins. “Shouldn’t be too hard for you to find someone to satisfy your parents who would also be game with an open relationship.”

“I’m not ready for all that mess. I like women on my turf, not my father’s,” Landon says, finishing his Old Fashioned.

Taking the cue, I deliver another round to the men.

“What about you, boss?” Landon asks. “You ever think about settling down?”

McQueen laughs. “Him? Settle down? Never.”

Jack joins in, high-fiving McQueen across the table.

“His idea of settling down is a one night stand … but even that—I’d have to see it to believe it,” Jack says. Then turning to
Boss
, he asks, “Have you ever had a woman stay the night? Like, even one time in your massive penthouse?”

“Not once,”
Boss
says proudly.

I feel his eyes skim over to me, and for some reason my stomach flutters. Which is beyond stupid. He just tried to screw me in a hallway and then is going on about his commitment issues. I do not need that sort of baggage in my life.

I have enough fucking issues of my own. I have ninety-nine problems and a womanizing man isn’t one of them.

By the end of the night my nerves are rattled. It’s been a long day. But the men at the table have left me a pile of chips equaling three thousand dollars.

Seriously? It would take me a few weeks to earn that on the casino floor.

I look at Carla, who’s putting the poker game away.

She shrugs. “It’s the best gig of the month. This will pay for this quarter’s preschool tuition for my daughter.” She flashes me the five thousand dollar chip they gave her.

Best gig
is right.

I look over at the foursome spread out on the couches; they’re still drinking and talking. I have no clue who won the game; I was preoccupied with not fucking up the orders, and making the perfect cocktails.

“Hey, Emmy,”
Boss
calls. “Come over here.”

Realizing he still wants me on the clock, I walk over, ready to take more orders.

“What can I get you boys? Another round?”

“Aww, you’ve been working all night, toots,” McQueen says, patting the cushion next to him. “Sit, take a load off.”

“He’s right,” Jack agrees. “What can I get you ladies? Carla, whatcha drinking?”

“I wish, boys,” she says, grabbing her bag from where it’s stashed under the table. “But I’ve gotta get home to relieve my babysitter.” She purses her lips in a matronly way, although she doesn’t even look thirty. “Be good, be safe, okay?”

“Always,”
Boss
says, grinning as she exits the suite.

He looks younger now than he did in the hallway. Maybe it’s the drinks, or maybe he’s just relaxed around his friends. I bet for a guy like him, with so much money, so much privilege, it’s nice to have a place to let your guard down.

“I should probably go, too,” I say, feeling the arches of my feet screaming at me to take the heels off.

Also, even though tomorrow is a day off, I need to sit with my sister at the hospital and check in with her doctors. And it’s already two in the morning.

“One drink,” Landon pleads. “Stay for one drink. What do you like, Chardonnay? A nice Pinot?”

Boss
laughs. “Way off, I know her drink of choice.”

I laugh under my breath. Who is this cocky guy who thinks he knows me so well? I mean, besides being a sex-god.

“You don’t know me,
Boss-man
,” I say, smiling, but I find myself lowering into the spot next to McQueen, on the seat he offered. Maybe sitting here with these men is exactly what I need. It’s been a long time since I just enjoyed myself. “But no, Landon, I’m not a wine girl.”

“Let me guess,” McQueen says. “Sex on the beach?” he asks with a straight face, and we all laugh as I shake my head.

“I bet you drink lemon drops,” Jack says. “Women love those things.”

“Nope. Not me.”

“Whiskey sour,”
Boss
says, definitively.

“Close.” I shrug. “But I drink whiskey, neat.”

Jack laughs, claps his hands twice. “Looks like you’ve met your match.”

“Whiskey neat, huh?”
Boss
stands, walks over to the bar and pours me a solid two inches of the dark amber. Liquid gold, but I don’t need any courage. As he hands me the glass, I feel like a million bucks.

I want to cash in.

I’m with some of the most impressive men in this city, in a private lounge, the only woman here … and I’ve listened to them talk about sex all night.

I’m ready.

I drink the oaky whiskey. It glides down my throat and warms my chest. Hell yeah, that is delicious.

Handing back the empty tumbler, I offer him a smile dripping with lust.

He’s no fool. He takes the glass, sets it on the coffee table, then looks at his friends.

“Sorry, bros,” he says. “I’m kicking you out.”

“Whatever happened to bros before hoes?” McQueen asks. Then, casting an apologetic glance my way, he says, “Sorry Emmy — no disrespect.”

“None taken. I know what I am. And a ho, I am not.”

“So then, what are you?” Landon asks as he stands, signaling for Jack and McQueen to follow suit.

“I’m a flower. Lots of layers, lots of delicate petals that need tending to.” I toss them a raised eye as they stand to go, my words thick with innuendo. They kiss my cheek on their way out. Perfect gentleman.

But not the one I want.

I want
Boss-man
.

“Cute, Emmy Rose. Very punny,” he says, shutting the door on his friends.

“Well, pun intended.” I bite my lip, shifting on the couch. Suddenly I’m nervous and eager and just so ready for this man to properly screw me. The way I should have let him do hours ago in the hallway.

Relieved that his eyes are as hungry as mine.

“So, what’s your real name?” I ask, finally able to ask the question I’ve been obsessed with all night.

“You’re funny.”
Boss
walks toward me, grabs my hands, and pulls me up to standing—avoiding my question. “And you’re sexy. And you drink whiskey. Who the hell are you, Emmy Rose?”

“I guess I’m the fucking girl of your dreams.” I’ve found this confidence somewhere inside me, like being so close to this cocky asshole makes me more powerful. Capable. Strong. I sure as hell hope I can harness this strength tomorrow, when I ask the doctors what their actual plan is for my sister’s care.

For a second that thought pulls me away from this moment. Returning to his gaze, however, all I can think is how crazy this is.

I mean, it
is
crazy. Me. Him. Here.

I am not the sort of girl that 1) fucks gold-watch wearing men or 2) even
knows
gold-watch-wearing-men.

I’m a twenty-two-year-old, never-gonna-get-my-graduate-degree, waitressing girl.

But I swear when he looks at me he sees me as a woman.

His woman.

We’re standing close. So close. So close I could reach up, pull this dangerous man’s face to mine.

But before I can, he pulls me in first.

T
here is
something ridiculous about this woman. All night I’ve been watching her, my hungry cock twitching every time she brushes her body close to mine.

I know it’s been one night. One singular night, but god, I need her in the worst, most ball-knocking way.

I want her.

All of her.

And now I can. Now I will.

She stands so close to me, her breath shallow, her perfect tits rising and falling with every single breath she takes. Those swollen lips of hers have parted, as if willing me to press my tongue inside her mouth.

I swear she’s breathing me in. She’s so fucking ready, and I haven’t even grazed my mouth over her anything.

But god, I’m ready for her everything.

“Emmy,” I say, pulling her face to mine. My mouth hovers over hers, and I know I can have any pussy in this town, but in this moment, all I want is to press my lips on hers.

So I do.

I devour that mouth. I kiss her hard, not because I like to play rough, but because I just want to consume her. She smells as sweet as her name, but I know she has a rougher edge that has barely surfaced.

I saw it earlier on the casino floor when that guy denied her a tip, and when the other guy offered her his number. I saw it when McQueen tried to smooth-talk her tonight.

She doesn’t play games.

She has a back-story, sure, but as I slide my hands lower, over the pleather of her leotard, skimming my fingers over her firm ass, I don’t want a back-story. I just want her on her back.

“
Boss
,” she says, emotion dripping from her words. I like that she isn’t pressing me for my name. She’s not looking for commitment with me; she wants this to last just one night, too. “Do to me now what you wanted to do with me earlier in the hallway. Do me like you want to. Like you need to.”

Her words are so sincere, tumbling out of her mouth. She wants me to take charge, be in control of this moment. I can tell by the way her eyelids close ever so slightly, by the way she arches her back, falling into me, that she needs to let go. That she is carrying too much on those perfectly narrow shoulders of hers. That she needs a night where she can float away, forget whatever burdens she carries.

And I know I am the man to take her there.

“Shhh,” I say, steadying her. I take hold of the shoulder straps on her uniform, and slowly graze my fingers against her skin, knowing that the moment I pull off her clothes, see every bare inch of her skin, there will be no going back.

She whimpers, and the sound excites me. My cock is already stiff and I haven’t even seen her tits yet.

I tug down the straps, and her breasts fall, untethered. They are nice and round, the perfect size for my big hands. I want to suck those nipples until she is dripping wet, dripping down her leg. Until her thighs are slick with her own juice.

But first I am going to strip her down to nothing.

She steps out of her heels, and her height drops half a foot. I liked how we’ve been nearly eye to eye, but there’s something about her stature being this much smaller than mine that makes me feel like I can protect her more easily. Makes me want to wrap my arms around her and never let her go.

Which is an insane thought—women are nothing more than a one-off—except it feels different with Emmy. We haven’t even spoken beyond whiskey and sex—but I have a sense she needs someone like me.

And maybe that
love at first sight
bullshit isn’t such crap. Maybe Emmy Rose is the person I didn’t know I needed.

Fuck, I don’t need all that heavy rhetoric I don’t know shit about.

I sure as hell know I need her pussy.

Rolling the leotard past her waist, over her hips, I slide it to the floor. The fishnet stockings are in the way, but only momentarily. She sucks in her stomach, and I smile, knowing in some ways all women are alike.

But this woman has nothing to be insecure about. Her body is flawless. It’s as if she’s a porcelain doll. But as I glide my hands under the netting, a shiver runs over her body, reminding me that she’s real.

This is real.

And, fuck me, this woman is perfectly trimmed, like she knew this night would be coming. And she is just how I like a woman, not waxed clean like so many of those fake-tit Vegas girls — no, Emmy Rose is fully a woman.

She’s not pretending to be anything she isn’t.

And maybe that’s why she moans uninhibitedly when I grab her ass cheeks and shamelessly pull her to me. She isn’t pretending to be anything she’s not. She wants this—me—and her low rumble lets me know.

My hands run to her front, and I press a finger inside her opening, watching as her eyelids flutter, as she unconsciously licks her lips, as her hands move to the collar of my dress shirt.

She loosens my tie as I dip another finger in her, finding, with no surprise, that she is wet just like I knew she’d be.

“That feels so good.” She writhes seductively then says, “I like your tattoo.” She runs her finger over my collarbone, trailing her hand up my neck, tracing the inked skull, crossed with pistols instead of bones.

My fingers leave her pussy momentarily as I move her hand away. That tattoo is nothing but a graveyard of memories, and I don’t want to go to an abandoned past, not tonight, not with her.

No woman needs to hear about the shitty place I come from.

My hands go right back where they’re wanted, though, and I feel her pretty little pleasure ball ripe and round. My fingers massage it, but what I really want is to lick it.

Which is a goddamn fucking revelation. That isn’t my mode of operation. Usually I slam my cock in a dripping pussy and come fast and hard. But Emmy Rose is different.

“When’s the last time your clit was properly flicked?” I ask, slyly, a grin spreading across my lips as she pulls off my dress shirt.

She blushes; her eyes are open now, dancing with the dim light of the room.

“If you really want to know,
Boss
, I was late for my shift because of some overdue flicking.”

I pull away, slightly. Was she fucking a different guy after she turned me down? Because hell no. I’m Ace, owner of Spades. No woman turns me down for another man.

“You jealous?” she asks, sliding my belt out of my pants. It snaps before she tosses it aside.

She bites her lip, teasingly, as she unbuttons my pants. They fall to the floor and I step out of them, my cock fucking hard and ready—but not for playing games.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, my voice even, cool, even though she’s right: I am a fucking ball of jealous rage. But I don’t yell, I don’t fight. I didn’t work my way to the top by being a bully. I’m not like my father.

I am a man.

I worked my way to the top by being a badass motherfucker, and Emmy Rose needs to know that.

“I
am
kidding.” She shrugs, smiling coyly. “I mean, I was late because my stockings were pulled down, but not by another man.”

My eyes burn in confusion.

“
Boss
, after I spoke to you in the hall, I was fucking delirious. I was so hot and, well, horny. I couldn’t help myself.” She bites back a laugh. “I was late coming here because I was in the bathroom, getting myself off. You had me at fucking
hello
, and you never even introduced yourself. I had to make myself come or I wouldn’t have made it though this shift.”

I grin, fucking overcome by how amazing this woman is. She was in a bathroom stall, her fingers in her pussy, thinking about me? Late for my poker game—a game she didn’t even know I would be at—because she was coming at the mere thought of me? My cock?

“Emmy, you have no idea what is coming your way.”

I pull off my boxer briefs, my cock fully erect, fully ready to be devoured.

* * *

So I’ve seen enough cocks in my life. I mean, I’ve slept with a handful of men, and besides that I’ve browsed pornforwomen.tumblr.com enough times that I’m familiar with both regular dicks and porn star dicks—but
Boss-man’s
cock is in a category all its own.

No fucking way can that fit in me.

But oh my god, will I die trying.

“Are you kidding me with that thing?” I ask, licking my lips, because I swear I’m gonna start drooling here and now.

I drop to my knees without thinking. I need to get up close and personal with the perfectly formed cock before me.

“That thing is like ten inches long,
Boss
—are you on steroids or something?” I ask, my mouth so near his tip. My pussy has started dripping again. Just looking at his penis is literally orgasm-worthy.

“No steroids. Just, the rumors are true.”

“Well, I don’t know about rumors,” I say, looking up at him. “But I sure as hell hope you lick pussy, too.” I cover my mouth, thinking that comment is literally word-vomit. I am uncensored in this guy’s presence, exactly what I
shouldn’t
be. “Ohmigod, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

“It’s okay, Emmy. I like it when you speak your mind. You’re funny, and fucking hot.” He looks down at me, his rock-solid abs distracting me from his eyes.

“So do you or don’t you go down?”

“Oh, I’ll go down for you,” he says. “I’ll fucking go anywhere you want me.”

I laugh. “You don’t even know me. And you aren’t supposed to fall for anyone—your buddies tonight said you’ve never taken any women to your penthouse.”

“You’re not any woman. Besides, we aren’t leaving this suite tonight.”

I’m not distracted by anything; I only have eyes for him. I pull his cock into my mouth, not even meaning to deep throat him, but I can’t help it. His girth is thick and my tongue has barely enough room to swirl around him.

But I find a way. I pull him in and out of my mouth, covering his length with my swirling tongue. Then my mouth is full of his soft balls, I can only fit one in my mouth at a time, but I lick them, suck them, loving the way they hit the roof of my mouth.

My face rubs against all of him. I press my hand over my opening, getting my palm nice and slick with my own juice and then begin rubbing against him with my wet hand, licking his length, filling my mouth with him again, until I’m so full of him I can’t breathe.

My whole body is overcome with the desire to have his come on me, in me. Everywhere.

I’m not usually like that. I like sex to be nice and tidy because, honestly, no guy really knows what he’s doing.

But right now, I don’t fucking care if
Boss-man
knows what he’s doing either. Because all I want right now is this cock in my mouth. I want to taste his come. I want to drink him until we’re both quenched. His veins are pulsing, his massive cock so hard as he thrusts toward me.

I grab his ass, hard, and oh god—never mind a moment ago when I thought didn’t need his cock anyplace but my mouth—because, oh fuck, I want his cock in every opening of my body.

He comes; he tastes salty and sweet, and I want it everywhere, not just running down my throat. I pull his perfectly round tip out of my mouth and let him come on my tits, let his come drip down me.

I watch him moan as the last of his come covers my bouncing breasts, running off my skin, dripping to the carpeted floor.

“What the fuck did you do to me, woman?” he asks incredulously.

“The same thing you are about to do to me.”

I stand and he lifts me up, higher. My legs wrap his waist, and my skin is on fire as he walks with me in his arms toward a door, which he opens to reveal the suite’s bedroom.

I look at the king-sized bed greedily, knowing I won’t have to wait long. My entire being is so excited to be covered by him. Anxious for his tongue to find its way inside me.

And then his cock can fill me up.

But first, I need to be stretched out a bit.

“Take me on the bed,” I say.

“I thought you wanted me in charge?” he asks, tossing me playfully on the bed. My naked body is splayed before him, and I see a mirrored ceiling above us. I watch as his hands grab my legs and fling them over his shoulders, so that my heat is right up in his face.

“I do. I
so
do. I just want you in change from down there.” I suppress a giggle, and I know he likes the way I tease, because he starts spreading my pussy lips with his fingers.

As I begin to squirm, he stops, looks right up at me from between my spread legs, and speaks in a deadpan voice.

“You want me to fuck you later, or not? Because I need you to hold nice and still if you want my cock.”

“Oh, you want me to be a nice, good girl now?” I ask.

“I never said anything about being good.”

And then he begins to eat me out, nuzzling his stubble against my thighs just like I had imagined. His tongue finds my clit like they are magnetized. He moves so fast, sucks me so good—I’m moaning, trying my best to stay still, but it is so fucking hard to do, as he works my opening.

Licking my slit, front to back, then back to front, taunting me until I let out a soft groan.

Then he plunges three fingers into me, hard.

Hard.

Harder.

Until it’s a useless fight. My body arches high, my nipples so primed, my ass in the fucking air as he finger-fucks me until I’m left gasping for breath.