ACE: Las Vegas Bad Boys

by Frankie Love

  “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.

  EMMY

  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 hi
s 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.

  He pulls out his hand and licks his fingers before pressing his palm across my stomach. Claiming me with his strength, his hand covers my stomach, and I just want him to cover all of me.

  I want his chiseled body against mine.

  I want him to take me away in this fantasy come to life.

  I want to climb on top of him and ride him until I shake.

  I want to climb on top of him until he grabs me at the waist, flips me over, and puts my pussy over his face, so we can suck one another off, together.

  I want to climb on top of him until he pulls me off, and presses me against the wall, pounding me with his massive, throbbing cock.

  Basically, I just want him to fuck me until I fall.

  ACE

  I’ve eaten women out before, but I’ve never had pussy that tasted so fucking good.

  I know whatever problems Emmy is dealing with in her personal life are far from her mind, because after that finger banging she is smiling like a beautiful, goddamned fool.

  “What next?” she asks, breathing hard as I pull her into my lap at the edge of bed, so that she’s straddling me.

  I brush her long hair over her shoulder. Her nipples are still perfect and erect. My thumbs circle them, my cock growing harder as she arches her back once again. She really has that move down pat—and the thing about Emmy is, it isn’t a move. It’s like her body is made to get hot and bothered.

  Hot for me.

  I move a hand down her back, running it over her soft-skinned ass, my fingers grazing her hole, knowing I’ll have her on all fours later.

  “What’s next is I make love to you,” I tell her.

  She shakes her head, ever so slightly, as if disbelieving me.

  “Don’t say it like that,” she says. Her breath is showing me she’s hot and ready, but her words tell me she’s holding back.

  Which, I mean, I fucking get it. I’ve never been like this before.

  Make love? Who the hell am I? McQueen would never stop giving me hard time for cheesy-ass words like that.

  But I can’t help it.

  I don’t want to push Emmy against a wall, I want to cover her with my body, create a space that is safe and warm and ours.

  I know, I’m a fucking Lifetime movie.

  But this woman is something else entirely. And the best thing is, she has no fucking clue. A charmed-life girl wants to hear words like make love. A jaded woman doesn’t want to hear the same things. She doesn’t need the same things.

  I want to know what Emmy needs.

  “Who hurt you?” I ask.

  “Everyone,” she says, a sharp laughing escaping her swollen lips.

  “Who’s everyone?”

  Her arms are around my neck, and my arms are around her waist, and I can’t think of a time I have ever become so wrapped up in anyone.

  The last time I cried over a woman it was at my mother’s funeral. Before that it was at my sisters’.

  Like I’ve said, my family is fucked up. Women in my family are tools, something you use to build what you need. For my Pops, it was his fucking empire.

  So now I don’t get close to women, because I don’t need to get personal—real personal—with anyone. Because it fucking hurts when they leave. Hurts when they die.

  Hurts when they’re murdered.

  But Emmy is different. I can see it in her eyes, in the warmth of her smile, in her uncompromising laugh, and in her no bullshit responses.

  “Everyone, meaning my parents,” she says. “My father was awful, beyond terrible. He was a drug dealer in Seattle. It was bad, and my mom was just somehow okay with it, when, honestly, it was no place for a child to grow up. But then they died and my sister and I were left on our own—okay, do you really want to talk about this now? Because I mean … like, the mood was all steamy and now it’s like … heavy. I have enough heavy in my life, Boss.”

  “I can see that,” I tell her. “But it sounds like we’re more alike than you know.”

  “I don’t know … you’re like….” She looks around the suite, taking in the rich leather, the thick drapes. The velvet chairs. My family was loaded, always. Money was never lacking. And I try to see this room through her eyes, the eyes of a child who grew up without money. And even if in some ways we’re alike, in other ways we’re different.
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  Maybe it’s time for different. Maybe it’s time for her.

  “I’m a twenty-seven-year-old man who’s worked his way to the top of this town. I get it. You think I’m an ass, because I am an ass. There’s no hiding that truth. I’ve fucked half the women in this city. I ride them hard and make them come, and Emmy, there is no denying who I am. But there’s no denying who you are either,” I tell her.

  “And who is that?” she asks. “Because it feels like I’m a girl working my ass off to pay for stupid bills, a college dropout, and your latest conquest. Is that who you think I am?”

  “No,” I tell her, my eyes searing into her perfect baby blues. “I think you’re mine.”

  I grab a condom from the drawer in the table next to us and roll it onto myself. Her eyes, filled with desire, look down at my fully erect cock, and she blinks back tears.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks in disbelief. “Being so perfect? You don’t even know me, know the mess I am.”

  “I don’t fucking care about your mess. I can clean up anything.”

  And then I press my lips against hers, devouring her with my mouth, I place her in the center of the bed, her brown hair splayed around her face, and I can’t imagine a more beautiful sight.

  “Emmy, tonight, forget about everything. Everyone. The problems you have will be here regardless. Tonight, just think about what you want, about your pleasure. I’ll give it to you.”

  With my arms on either side of her, I lower myself as she spreads her legs, her opening still pink and pulsing with desire. She’s ready for my hungry cock, and she won’t be satisfied with anyone else, ever again.

  I’ll make sure of that.

  My cock enters her, and she gives a sharp gasp as I push myself in her tight pussy. I love a woman nice and tight, but filling Emmy is like something else entirely. I’d swear she’s a virgin, but I know she’s not—she’s definitely sucked a guy’s cock before. She knew how to handle me way too well.

  But I do know she’s never been with a man as big as me, because her eyes got so greedy when she saw me earlier. And now her eyes roll back, she’s so overcome with me inside her.