JACK: Las Vegas Bad Boys (5 page)

I feel his release inside of me. The warmth in my pussy makes me writhe in pleasure, causes another wave to crash over me as he thrusts for the final time.

When we both finish, he lays beside me on the bed; both of us are gasping for breath. Turning my face to look at him, I see his eyes are already on me.

“What?” I ask.

His clear blue eyes are on mine, and this feels like more than a fuck, even though that’s exactly what it is.

“I did not expect this night to be like this,” he says.

“Like what?”

“So damn perfect.”

T
he next morning
, I wake with a still-sleeping Tess beside me. I wasn’t going to make her leave last night.

I’m not an asshole, and I know Tess is not some average one-night stand. I am going to be seeing her, presumably, for the rest of my life. She’s close with everyone I’m friends with.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

But then she rolls toward me, and her perfect, perky breasts are exposed, and I know this was the best decision of my life.

Lowering myself under the blankets, I decide to wake her up so she feels as amazing as she looks. Last night she fucked me so hard, in a way that I will never forget.

I can do my best to repay the favor.

We fell asleep naked, so now, as I gently spread her legs, I have easy access to her little mound. Her legs subconsciously wrap around my neck, and I begin to lick her folds, wanting to pull her awake with an orgasm.

My tongue glides over her slit, up and down, and she soon begins to release her wetness on my tongue, tasting like honey, sweet and sticky. Damn, I fucking want to eat her until she’s pouring if she tastes this fine.

My scruffy, few-week-old beard rubs against her thighs, and I kiss her skin, my hands reaching toward her perfect tits, her nipples hard and excited, even while she sleeps.

My cock is so hard, so turned on, but right now I am focused on her. I suck her clit, my mouth devouring her, and I can tell she’s starting to wake up by the sounds she begins to make.

“Ohhhh, baby,” she purrs. “Oh, yeah, suck me hard.” Her hands find my hair and she squeezes the legs that wrap my head.

Tess shocked me last night. She seems so innocent, so naive—but that girl knew how to talk dirty, how to make my cock rock hard, how to come again and again.

Just like she is right now.

Her juice is pouring out and she gasps, tightening her hold on me. And I don’t care if I can’t fucking breathe. I want her to orgasm so hard, I want her to gush nice and good all over me.

“Oh Jack, fuck, fuck, yeah.” When she stops coming and lowers her legs from their hold, I pull down the bed sheets, grinning up at her.

“Morning sunshine,” I say, squeezing her little nipple.

“You are in so much trouble,” she scolds, with a smile.

“Was it bad of me to wake you up? Are you one of those girls who needs their beauty sleep?”

“Well, I am, but I suppose I can’t stay mad at you,” she says, pushing my hand away from her breast. “I mean, I can’t think of the last time I woke up and orgasmed with something besides a vibrator.”

“So when you make yourself come, what are you imagining?” I roll over next to her on the bed. The sheets are pushed off the mattress.

“Basically what just happened. A scruffy-faced man sucking me dry.”

I laugh. “You don’t hold back, do you Tess?”

“Not much.”

“I like that.”

“I bet you’d like something else, too,” she says, mischievously.

“What’s that?”

“Looks like you could use some help with that.” Her eyes lower to my stiff cock.

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, thinking of the hundred ways I’d like to fuck her before she leaves my loft.

“I want to ride you,” she says, crawling on top of me. Her tits are bouncing, her pussy slick. And my cock is so ready. “I want to ride you so fucking hard.”

She lifts herself onto me, her eyes closed as she is filled.

And then she moves her hips, swiveling against me until we come, again, and again.

* * *

A
fter Tess
and I shower and dress, I make us coffee and a few pieces of toast and try to think of ways to thank her for coming to my rescue. And also for coming in general. So many fucking times. My sheets are soaked, and hell, we had ourselves a good time.

“So do you work today?” I ask her as she spreads raspberry jam on her slice of bread.

“Nope, got today off. Have to do laundry though, and need to get some groceries. It’s my Sunday routine. Errands and clean up my studio.”

I don’t want to ask anything that might shift the dynamic. But I am curious about her life. I know nothing besides the fact that she works at the casino.

“Do you live nearby?”

“Near old town.” She states the fact as vaguely and as simply as possible.

“How long have you lived in Vegas?” I pour more coffee into my cup and top hers off as well.

“About a year.”

When she doesn’t add any more details, I don’t press.

“So,” I begin again, trying a different topic. “Think things will be awkward with everyone?”

“With like Emmy and Claire and the guys?”

“Yeah, I mean, do you think they will think...”

She smiles, looking away as if she is bashful. Already I miss the Tess I got to know in the bedroom, the Tess who told me what she wanted, who gave more and more of herself until she was undone.

It seems like the girl evaporated the moment she put her clothes on and washed her face.

“Well, my friends knew about my crush. And they’re going to be asking questions. Lots.”

“And what will you tell them?”

She shrugs. “Nothing.”

I swallow, wondering why her answer rubs me the wrong way.

“You don’t want them to know about last night?”

“Do you?” she asks. “Honestly, you don’t need drama right now. I’ve read the news and you don’t need anyone talking.”

“Our friends won’t sell me out.”

“I know, but people overhear, or well-intentioned people accidentally slip up. All the time. The last thing you need is the press to get wind of a fling.”

“I didn’t really read much of the news on the break-up.”

“Well, that’s probably a good thing. It was rough.” She bites her lip, as if holding back.

“What?”

“I just don’t think we should mention last night to anyone.”

I don’t know why her insistence on this staying on the down-low bothers me. Especially since Ashley told the media everything about us, whether it was true or not. But for some reason, the fact that Tess doesn’t want anyone to know she slept with me bugs me.

To be honest, I want the world to know we fucked and that it literally blew my mind.

“Are you embarrassed about having been with me?” I ask her.

He eyes bug out of her head. “No.”

“Well, then why ... never mind.” I shake my head, feeling like my alphaness is going out the window with each moment I dwell on this. So what? She doesn’t want to sleep and tell. That’s a good thing, especially after the relationship I just ended.

But Tess seems to gather what I’m implying, without me needing to say it.

“Look,” she says. “I had an amazing time last night. And this morning. Like, you aren’t some asshole, you are a complete gentleman. You could have told me to leave last night after we fucked, but you woke up, made me come, and then made me coffee. You’re a good guy, Jack. It’s just, this is a one-time thing, right?”

I nod, knowing that it should be a one-time thing. Tess is a sort-of friend, and nothing more. I barely know the girl.

“So us telling people about it just creates drama. I don’t want the attention, Jack. Even if it is just from our friends. I don’t want to be in the limelight—with them, or the press, or anyone.”

“That’s cool,” I tell her. “Honestly. I just have an ego. Don’t want a girl to walk away unsatisfied.”

She sets her empty coffee cup in the sink, then grabs her purse from the kitchen counter.

“No worries there, I’m completely satisfied.” She leans over and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Jack. Last night you made me feel incredible. It’s been a while since I felt that good about myself.”

“I sent for a car. It should be waiting for you. But let me walk you out.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

We take the elevator down to the lobby. We stand side by side, and it isn’t an awkward silence that fills the air, more of a
why is this ending so soon
silence.

I know Tess is the last thing I need right now. A yearlong cluster-fuck of a relationship should turn me off of women for a while. But Tess isn’t just some woman.

And, hell, I don’t know what she is exactly ... but it’s worth finding out.

As the elevator stops on the ground floor, I reach for her hands before the doors slide open.

“Can I take you out again?”

The doors open, and before she can answer, the paparazzi overwhelm us. Photos are taken, one after another, as we press through the crowd.

The limo is waiting, and I see fear in her eyes. Pure pain. She wasn’t fucking around about not wanting drama.

“I can’t ... Jack, I gotta go. Now.”

She ducks into the limo as the driver opens the door for her.

And they’re gone before I can ask her to stay.

* * *

Shit. Shit. Shitttttt.

I want to scream. Probably both.

Fuck.

The limo drops me off, but some of those shitty paparazzi followed us here and continue taking my photo as the driver opens my door, and as I jam my key into the door leading to my studio apartment.

“Get the fuck away,” I yell at them. “Seriously, go.” I’m not playing nice, because this is my worst nightmare and it is literally all my fault.

I should have never played with fire. Never have gone with Jack Fucking Harris to dinner, to bed. Hell, I never should have become friends with such high-profile people in the first place.

I came to Vegas to disappear. Not to be on page nine of some gossip magazine. I came here to hide.

And now ... I’m terrified I’ll be exposed.

Once inside my studio, I take off yesterday’s clothes, find a pair of sweats, an old hoodie. I put the kettle on for some tea, and as it heats up I dig in my closet, under a box of books, to make sure my money is there. Not that it wouldn’t be, but that cache of cash is my one safeguard. If I need to leave, I can. And that money will ensure that I can start over.

I take last night’s tips from my wallet and shove them in my money box, lock it back up. Closing my closet door, I make four strides, back and forth, the width of my place. This apartment is my favorite place in the world, my teeny-tiny sanctuary that has now been compromised.

The paparazzi followed me here.

Dammit!

The kettle screeches and I make myself some lemon-ginger tea, hoping the ache in my belly disappears. Screw groceries and laundry. I don’t want to step foot outside this apartment.

I’m a liar. I told Jack I wasn’t scared of anything.

But that wasn’t true, because right now I’m terrified.

Terrified that the people I ran from will come looking. And those stupid photographs will help them.

I collapse on my double bed, wishing I had a computer, access to the Internet somewhere besides the library. My phone may allow texting, but there’s no data plan.

My only hope is that the paparazzi will realize me being with Jack is no story. Sipping the steaming tea, I force myself to calm down.

Why would anyone care about me anyway? Why would anyone want to post a story about some girl who works at a casino. Like every other girl in this town? Nothing is going to happen.

Right?

I’m a cocktail waitress named Tess. There’s nothing interesting about me.

At least that’s what I tell myself. Because what other choice do I have?

“
H
ey
, Slider,” Angel says, handing her phone to me. “Look at this.”

She’s in a thong and a push-up bra, and nothing else. Her fake breasts are full and ready to be fucked. I didn’t come back to this whore’s room for anything other than to have my cock in her mouth.

I take the goddamn phone. “You gonna start sucking my cock or what?”

She doesn’t say anything, just rolls off her bed, and drops to her knees, like the good little slut she is.

“What the hell is this? Why do I care about this fucker?”

She’s pulled up some shit story about Jack Harris—some pussy DJ in Vegas—and some skank leaving his house.

“Thought you might want to know.” She purses her lips, looking up at me, then shrugs and unbuckles my pants, pulling them down.

“Why would I want to know about some pansy ass boy in the desert?”

She slides her hand over my cock, but it’s fucking impossible to get hard if she’s showing me pictures of some guy.

“Just thought you might be interested in the girl he’s with, Slider. Thought Cutter might care even more than you ... thought maybe you’d like to have to pleasure of telling him first.”

Angel knows she’s on my bad side, I know she’s been sleeping with Drake, and she knows I keep her on this compound to be my little fuck buddy, nobody else’s.

This must be her way of making it up to me. Cutter is the President of our outlaw gang, and she knows I won’t have access to talk to him unless it’s important.

“Who is this girl?”

“Zoom in.”

I do, and what I see is some skinny little brunette climbing into a limo. The next photo is of her waving goodbye to Jack, but there’s fear in her eyes.

Eyes I know all too fucking well.

“Shit,” I pull up my pants. “Is this really Cammie?”

“Sure as hell is. I’d know those eyes anywhere.”

I grin, knowing how important this story is to Cutter. Knowing that bringing back his daughter will make me a road captain.

I’ll get the street cred I’ve been looking for since I joined this brotherhood. Fuck, all I have to do is find this bitch that ran away.