KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys

by Frankie Love

  “Hey, my motto is ‘the more the merrier.’”

  “Will I be enough for you, then?”

  “Oh, baby, you are more than enough.”

  She bites her lip, hesitating, then leans in and kisses me again. Our mouths collide and create a spark that causes me to run my hands down her bare back, to her tight little ass. I squeeze her and then move my hands to her front. Her little pussy needs some attention.

  I’ll give it to her.

  “Should I just....” JoJo looks down at my hard cock. I nod, and she takes me in her hands. She moves up and down my shaft; her opening getting nice and wet as she touches me. Oh, hell yeah, this girl needs my cock to fill her up.

  Her soft folds are nice and juicy now, and I’m glad I moved her from the shower so I can have this perfect view of her.

  But I can’t wait any longer. I need her sitting in my lap properly.

  I roll on the condom, and her tits move up and down as she takes in deep breaths.

  “Breathe easy, baby,” I tell her. “You ever fucked a man this big before?”

  “No,” she says, nearly whispering. “But, God, I want to. So bad.”

  She’s nearly panting with desire, and I won’t make her wait any longer.

  I lift her narrow waist, and ease her onto me. Her hand holds my thick rod, leading it into her opening.

  “Oh, oh, god,” she moans softly.

  “Does it hurt?” I wince. I’ve been with loads of women who are impressed with my cock. Hell, I get paid to show my package onstage, wearing a thong–and, hell no, I don’t stuff that thing. I’ve got a cock that makes women drool. But this is different.

  JoJo genuinely seems to be having a hard time taking me, in a way that’s different than just needing some lube.

  “It’s okay ... it’s just.” She stops, shakes her head.

  “It’s what?” I ask, as she lowers herself a few inches down my cock. Oh, God, her tight pussy feels so fucking amazing.

  “Nothing,” she says, adamant. “Fuck me like you would anyone else. I want it.”

  I swivel my hips up, to help her onto me without force or strain. I don’t want this to be painful. She has no idea how good it’s gonna feel once she has me all the way inside her.

  “I’m not gonna fuck you like anyone else, JoJo. You’re singular.”

  Her eyes look worried. “This is a one-time thing, though, right. Just sex, no strings?”

  “No strings,” I tell her, caught off guard a bit. Most women are dying for strings. Most women want to fucking tie my heart up with a chain and tether it to their fucking life.

  I wasn’t lying when I said JoJo wasn’t like anyone else.

  “Good,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Then let’s do this, McQueen. Really, really do this.”

  I see that glint in her eye again, the mischievous, living-on-the-wild-side glint. A glint I’m guessing she doesn’t let herself enjoy often, given the way she hesitates so much with me.

  She wraps her arms around my shoulders, sinking into me completely, moaning as she does.

  “Oh, God, yes, that’s it,” I tell her.

  I hold her ass, running my hands over her cheeks as I watch her grind against me nice and slow. I love watching a woman on top of me, getting herself off nice and good, but JoJo is different.

  She’s enjoying this in a way I’ve never seen before, arching her back as she experiences the fullness of me. “Mmmhhhhmmm,” she hums in my ear.

  She moves around, her hips intoxicating in their slow motion. She’s taking her time, and God, it’s a sight to see.

  Her tits are the perfect size for my hands. I massage them softly, pulling her hard nipple into my mouth as I feel her juice pour out from her. My cock is fucking on fire as she teases me, unknowingly, with each movement she makes against my groin.

  Her body moves faster as she find a rhythm that hits her g-spot, because then it’s like her faucet is turned on. I smack her ass, just completely taken away with how she pivots her body so naturally, moving herself deeper and deeper with me in her. Her moans increase, getting louder as she nears climax.

  “Oh, yeah, JoJo, that feels so fucking good,” I tell her, thrusting against her as she grabs my neck highly, freezing in mid-motion as an orgasm washes over her, her voice a deep moan, completely harmonizing with her body. She stills, and I pause too, wanting her to enjoy every moment of her release.

  When she closes her eyes, I move, knowing she’ll get another wave as I thrust into her again, again, again. I come, squeezing her ass as I do.

  She collapses against my chest, and I hold her there, trying to catch my breath. I swear I just had the best sex of my life, and half of that pleasure came from watching JoJo get off. She was like a mermaid, moving gracefully, her long red hair dripping all over us as we fucked. Her body moving so effortlessly, it was as if she were swimming.

  JoJo

  My body shakes in a perfect, oh my God, was that even real? sort of way. I get why McQueen has the reputation he has. Because whatever he just did to me was unreal. Beyond what I imagined sex could be. And I see how once would never be enough.

  Although, for me, it has to be. Because my family means everything to me ... and my father is arranging my marriage.

  I can’t think about that right now. Right now, McQueen is still inside of me.

  “That was unreal, JoJo,” he says, as I lift myself up from his rock-hard chest, chiseled with so many muscles it makes me weak in the knees ... or actually, let’s be honest, wet between my legs.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  Deflecting keeps my head in check. I know I’m not special to McQueen; I’m a fling. But he will always be special to me ... because I gave my virginity to him.

  “I don’t. Not even close. You were ... different. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Don’t try. I like thinking I was good at this,” I say, smiling. I lift myself off him and fall beside him on the couch.

  I look at his hardness, where the condom is still rolled on. My heart stops for a moment as I see red blood on the latex.

  His eyes follow mine, and I see a flash of concern across his eyes.

  “Are you on your ... period?” he asks.

  I know I’m not, not for a few weeks. That blood is the result of something else. The thing I didn’t really want to tell him, because I’m guessing he’ll feel bad for taking my virginity. And right now I want him to remember this as being something very good.

  But I also don’t want to lie about my cycle because that feels weird, feels immature, even if it would get me off the hook. We just shared something intimate, and even if it was a no strings hook-up it was still something meaningful to me.

  I can’t lie to McQueen. I don’t want to.

  “I’m for sure not on my period.”

  “Then ... are you okay?” he asks, not putting it together.

  “I’m okay, it was just....” I try to tell him, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. Being a fair-skinned redhead has never worked to my favor. My true emotions are always instantly on display.

  It’s as if something dawns on him. His eyebrows lift, his mouth opens lightly.

  I’m glad we aren’t face to face. I don’t know why my sex-status feels embarrassing ... but it just makes it more awkward.

  “JoJo, are you a virgin?”

  The straightforwardness of his question causes me to snort reflexively. “I was.”

  “Holy shit balls.” He stands, pulls off the condom, tosses it in the trash.

  I look away, not knowing what might come next. Is he pissed at me for not telling him first? Is he grossed out by the blood?

  He wraps a towel around his waist, and then hands one to me. I tuck it around myself quickly, feeling exposed. Well, my one-afternoon-stand was hot as hell until my virginal status messed it up.

  But then he sits back down on the couch, and takes my hands in his, lacing my fingers in his so naturally, as if knowing this simple choice would ins
tantly put me at ease. Which I’m sure he does know; he’s the epitome of a player.

  “JoJo, why didn’t you tell me before?” His tone is soft, his face concerned.

  “I didn’t think you’d be game if you knew.”

  He smirks, shakes his head slightly. “Well, I’m not sure if I could have resisted, to be honest. You have no fucking clue how hot you are.”

  “Shut up,” I tell him, pulling my hands away. But he grabs them back.

  “JoJo, honestly, listen to me. I know this was a one-time thing, that you wanted to lose your virginity for whatever reasons you had—and, don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask. It’s none of my business, honestly. But hear me on this: you are fucking amazing, and I’m a lucky man to have been your first. Because, sweetheart, you literally nailed it.”

  I know my face is red and that my chest is flushed—from both the sex and the sincerity of McQueen’s speech—but for a moment, maybe even a minute, I hear him. And I feel amazing.

  I wanted to go all in with him, and I did.

  I have a month, give or take, until my life changes forever, on terms that aren’t my own. But this moment right here? It’s mine. And McQueen didn’t take it away from.

  In fact, he made it so much better.

  Chapter Five

  McQueen

  After saying goodbye to JoJo, I get in my Jeep and head to Hearts Royalle, the new club Ace, Landon, and Jack have built. It opens in a week, and they have me headlining the first show. You know—bring in the big talent and hope the ladies are soaking their panties in excitement before I even step on stage.

  It’ll be sad to say goodbye to Stripped, since it’s been the hottest male dance ticket for the last two years–but times are changing and Ace, as the owner, knows that.

  Ashley Fast, Jack’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, has signed a six-month contract at the Spades Royalle, which is a perfect segue for me to start this new show here.

  The new place caters to women–and what do women want when they go out in Vegas? They want men, wanting them. They want men, dancing with them. They want men, stripping for them.

  I’ve never had a problem giving women what they want.

  I park outside the mammoth building, where crews have been working around the clock for a month straight, ever since we returned from Landon and Claire’s wedding in England.

  The space is on point for sure. The three story building itself is bright white, with pale pink trim. Inside, pink and light-grey velvet covers the interior, chandeliers dripping with crystals hang from the ceiling, and there’s soft lighting that will flatter every woman as they walk across the pink-carpeted club.

  Ace’s and Landon’s wives, Emmy and Claire, along with their best friend Tess, have weighed in about every design choice. They haven’t been wrong. Everything is a woman’s wet dream ... err, fantasy. When the club opens, scantily clad men will run the coat check, deliver drinks, and deal at the tables.

  Gambling isn’t going to be the only option here. Most women will come for the talent behind the thick curtains in the two-story dance club, called The Cockpit, where I’ll be performing.

  There’s plenty of other talent for hire in The Cockpit, and I’m betting most of the action will take place in private dances held in the many VIP rooms. Think about what men do at strip clubs, and reverse it.

  Women, for the first time in Vegas history, will be able to get private lap dances. And while no one is promoting anything more ... what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

  “The place is looking dope, boys,” I say, announcing myself as I enter the back room of the club, where the guys are looking over several documents.

  “Hey, McQueen, what’s up, man?” Ace asks, looking up.

  “Just came from the gym, thought I’d see what you fuckers were up to tonight.” I sit backwards in a chair at the table where Ace, Jack, and Landon sit. “Anything on tap?”

  “Emmy was talking about going to dinner tonight,” Ace says. “Not sure where, though.”

  “I’m out,” Landon says. “I’m taking Sophia to ballet. She has dance Monday and Wednesday nights.”

  “What the fuck, dude?” I ask. “You’re already driving taxi? Aren’t there nannies for that shit?”

  Landon looks at me like I’m talking crazy. “Why would I hire someone to take Sophia to a dance class?”

  “I see your game, bro,” Jack laughs, shoving Landon. “Someone is guaranteed pussy if they do daddy-duty.”

  “You two assholes have no clue how good I’ve got it. A woman I love, a little girl who has my whole heart–meanwhile, what have you got? Jack’s got a pop-star girlfriend who breaks up with him every other week, and McQueen doesn’t even have that.”

  I laugh. “Oh, what, now the guy with the most commitment wins? I swear to God, a few months ago it was the other way around.”

  “Things change,” Ace says, shrugging. “But seriously, you should come out with Emmy and me tonight. Maybe Tess will come too.”

  “I do not want a double date with Tess.”

  “What’s wrong with Tess?” Jack asks, suddenly interested.

  “Nothing’s wrong with her. I’m just not interested.”

  “What, you have some girl already in mind for tonight?” Landon asks.

  “No, I already had someone this afternoon.”

  “Dude, you’re seriously out of control,” Jack says.

  I pull back. Are they seriously saying I get too much pussy? Because the last time I checked, the pussy I was getting was the fucking best.

  Better than that, even. JoJo is more than a piece of meat. That girl is fire. She is heat. She’s dangerous, and she doesn’t even know it.

  Good thing we said one and done.

  “Whatever, you guys enjoy your women, and I’ll enjoy mine.”

  “No, you should come out with us, though. You too, Jack.”

  I shrug. What else will I do at eight o’clock on my night off? I can go find some pussy after dinner.

  “Sure, I’m in,” I tell him.

  Jack says he’ll come, too.

  “So, what are you guys working on?” I ask, looking at the papers on the table.

  Ace scratches his jaw. “We’re just making sure we have the schedule all figured out for the first month of business. We open next Friday—that’s only ten days away, and the last thing we need is a cluster.”

  “I still think we should hire a general manager,” Landon says. He was originally going to be the GM here, but now he’s overseeing The King’s Diamond and doesn’t have time to do this full-time. Neither does Ace. So they’ve decided to split the job.

  “We have enough shift managers that I think it’ll be fine,” Ace says. “We can always reevaluate in a month. The last thing I want is to hire someone who thinks they understand our vision and then starts fucking things up.”

  I don’t say anything. Because these guys, while my best friends, see me as the male dancer I am. Not management material.

  And Jack isn’t an option, because he travels so much as a DJ.

  “You know—starting next month, my schedule changes,” Jack says, surprising us. “I could help more.”

  “Really?” Landon asks. “I swear you had a tour in Eastern Europe lined up.”

  “I did. But ... things shifted, schedule-wise. Ashley wants me in Vegas for the six months she’s here on contract.”

  “You cancelled your shows for Ashley?” I ask, fucking shocked. This woman has a grip on his balls like something else. “Am I the only one here who doesn’t have his nuts in a wad over a woman?”

  “Call it what you want, McQueen, but flying solo gets old,” Ace says. “Tonight, you’ll be looking for someone to take home. Meanwhile, I’ll be in bed with a woman who knows exactly what I want.”

  “Shit,” I say, cracking another grin. “I don’t even know who you jackasses are anymore. And while you sit here bullshitting over management, I’m gonna go check in with the real men who are here for rehearsals.”

&nb
sp; “Rehearsals,” Landon laughs. “Because that sounds manly.”

  I flip the guys off as I walk out of the back room, knowing they’re the ones missing out.

  If I were in relationships like them I wouldn’t have had an afternoon like I had with JoJo.

  JoJo

  I pull into my sister’s driveway, hoping like heck I don’t look like I’ve just had sex. I’ve seen my brothers exit their bedrooms with women enough times to know what the post-sex glow is. Heck, I’ve been around Lucy enough times after she’s hooked up to know there’s no denying what a woman who’s recently had an orgasm looks like: relaxed.

  My sister Mary, on the other hand, may be married but it’s obvious she’s not getting the kind of sex she probably craves. She has three kids under six, and never looks well-rested, let alone well-sexed.

  “Mary,” I call out, opening her front door without knocking. “It’s me.”

  “Jo?” she hollers from the kitchen. “Can you come here? Hurry. I just—dammit.” I hear something clatter to the floor and rush into the kitchen.

  She looks frazzled, but no more so than most days. And on the floor at her feet are a million gravy-filled clumps that used to be a chicken pot pie.

  “It’s all good,” I say, immediately springing into action. Grabbing a roll of paper towels, I start sopping up the steaming food. “Crap. Hot.”

  “Right? Why do you think I dropped the pan?” Mary throws me a raised eyebrow as she falls in a heap a few feet beyond the ruined meal. “Just put it on today’s tab,” she says. “I swear. I was late getting Hardy from kinder because I totally spaced on the half-day the school had today. Bailey threw a fit in Whole Foods, and Justice hasn’t had a proper nap all week. I swear that girl lives in a car seat.”

  “She’s not in one now.”

  We both cast a look over to Justice, who is chewing on a teething biscuit, brown gummy food covering her face, her belly, and the diaper she wears in lieu of clothing. She’s in a swing in perpetual motion. I’ve babysat enough to know that the moment it stops, her screaming begins.

  “Maybe it’s time you hired some help.” I manage to mop up the food and begin throwing the pie into the trash.