Bound to the Bounty Hunter

by Hayson Manning

  To her right, a blue glass building emerged, rising toward the sun like an offering. Bronze glass shimmered to her left. Puffy white clouds waltzed with gray clouds swirling with attitude.

  She shrugged off the unsettled feeling. “The buildings are all so huge.” She leaned forward, straining the seatbelt. “Wait. Is that the Eiffel Tower?” She blushed. “I mean not the real one, obviously. I didn’t know they had a fake Eiffel tower.” She spun sideways. “Is that Hooters?” Her finger pressed against the window. “Okay, so I don’t want to go to Hooters, but every girl dreams of going to Paris.”

  She turned to Harlan, sounding like an excited schoolgirl catching a Bieber concert and not caring.

  “There’s too much to take in. Can we go around again?”

  “Sure.” Harlan lifted his glasses, his gorgeous blue eyes sparkling, a warm smile directed at her.

  She blinked, unable to breathe at his beauty.

  They’d stopped at another set of lights. Sophie punched the button on the door that supposedly controlled the window and, by some miracle, it lowered. She breathed in warm air scented with tacos, the sweet smell of sugar and, strangely, chlorine. A couple walked past, hands entwined.

  “We’re in Vegas, baby. Let’s have some fun,” the woman said.

  She didn’t hear her partner’s reply, but the words stamped on her heart. One night in Vegas with Harlan.

  She smiled. Oh yeah.

  Time for some fun.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Why are we stopping?” Sophie asked, craning her neck to take in the shimmering building, apprehension in her voice.

  Harlan understood that she didn’t have money, he got that this hotel was out of her league, but he wanted this night to be special. And knowing she’d be curled into him tonight, her head on his shoulder, her hair tumbling over him… He wanted that.

  Strike it.

  Needed that.

  “We’re at the hotel.” The car sputtered to a stop beside a red-and-gold-suited valet. Harlan exited the car, grabbed his bag, then handed the valet the keys and a sizeable tip.

  He opened the passenger door.

  Sophie didn’t move.

  “We can’t stay here.” Her arms were folded across her chest.

  “We are staying here.” He held out his hand, gearing up for yet another fight.

  Dark flashing eyes met his. “I can’t afford this nor can Beth, so we’re not.”

  “I’m paying.” He forced a deep breath.

  “No you’re not. I’m working.” She tightened her ponytail. “I get what you said about Rita’s Hotel, but there has to be a compromise between rent-a-room and where the queen of England stays,” she snapped.

  She was working, and he respected that, but keeping her safe and protected was his job.

  “Sophie, I’ve got this.”

  Her chocolate eyes swung to his then looked away.

  “Your head on my shoulder tonight, unable to move after I’ve fucked you senseless. You safe? That’s what I want.”

  She looked up at him, indecision and desire written across her face. She bit her lip and his cock fired into life at the “I want to be fucked senseless” look on her face.

  “I’ll pay you back,” she said firmly.

  He chuckled and grabbed her hand.

  Yeah, you will, but no currency will change hands.

  He went to VIP check-in, gave his name, handed over his card to a perfectly made-up woman who smiled a perfectly made-up smile who had nothing on Sophie. Seconds later, along with two keycards, he was directed to a private set of elevators. He grabbed Sophie’s hand, figuring this way they’d at least make it to the elevators before Christmas, her soft hand fitting his perfectly.

  On the way to the elevator he stopped at the concierge’s desk and had a discreet word. The man nodded without blinking. Harlan waved his card against a keypad, and the elevator opened. He punched in the top number, and they were whisked upward.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket, noting that Sophie followed suit.

  A couple of texts from Zeb, nothing urgent.

  His Viper was parked outside Sophie’s house, giving the impression they were holed up, which they were. His dick roared to life. Christ, any more boners without a happy ending inside Sophie and he’d be claiming disability. Holed up with Sophie in Vegas with no interruptions…

  He had plans.

  Serious plans.

  The doors of the elevator opened. Sophie stepped forward then shot back into the elevator, grasping the handrail like she’d been stabbed. “We’ve got the wrong room,” she gasped.

  Harlan chuckled, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into the room. “This is ours.”

  “This isn’t in the budget.” She pulled on his hand, her eyes wide, her face pale. “This isn’t in Celine Dion’s budget.”

  He explained the situation. “This room is safe. If I have to go out, I can, knowing you’re protected. The elevator is by keycard only, and we have the only two cards. All the doors have double security. Unless Spiderman is coming to pay a visit, no one can get in.” He paused, steeling himself for the inevitable reaction. “Before you go all apeshit on me, I know you don’t have a dress, and I want to take you out tonight, so a woman is going to arrive in about an hour, take your measurements, and deliver a dress and shoes.” She opened her mouth, eyes sparking. He held up his phone, cutting her off. “Important call, babe, I’ve got to take this.” He turned his back and grinned.

  Half an hour later, Harlan opened the door, took the bag from the concierge, and tipped the man his week’s wages.

  Sophie sat on a leather sofa, bare feet tucked underneath her, flicking through a guidebook. “Can we see the Bellagio fountains? They’re free and they dance to music, how cool is that?”

  “Got something to do first.” He bent, tilted her head, and kissed her, his tongue dueling with hers. A tremor moved from her body and traveled the length of his. He pulled her to standing. Her fingers traced across his ribs, his stomach. Her touch undoing him. He groaned in her mouth.

  His palm flattened across her stomach, then went down the front of her jeans, over the waistband of her underwear, her skin soft, firm, and trembling under his touch. The perfect combination. “I’ve been thinking about being here since last night.”

  “You mean when you were having a pissing contest with Dug?” She kissed his neck, her smile curled against his skin.

  He rubbed her clit through the cotton of her underwear, then pushed aside the fabric before sinking into her tight, wet warmth.

  She melted into him and moaned.

  “Don’t say another man’s name when I’ve got my finger in you,” he growled.

  She bucked her hips, arching her back, driving him deeper.

  “You like that?” He kissed her neck.

  Her head dropped back. “Yeah.”

  His fingers were coated in her. “Missed how you taste.”

  Hazy chocolate eyes widened, and her lips parted.

  He withdrew his fingers, and she moaned when his thumb glided over her swollen clit. He transferred his fingers to his mouth and licked down to his knuckle, her salted caramel taste hitting straight through to his balls.

  Her hand brushed her breasts then dropped back to her side. She ducked her head, but not before he caught the tinge to her cheeks.

  He cupped her chin with his hand. “There’s no shame in listening to what your body wants.” He dropped a finger into her mouth, which she licked, the shyness leaving her in a surge of desire.

  “I want you so bad it hurts,” she murmured.” Her head tilted.

  Desire, want, and an overwhelming need to stamp his DNA in her raged through his body. “Get your jeans off.”

  She wiggled out of her jeans, kicking them away, her chest heaving.

  “Get yours off,” she panted.

  He growled but his jeans went the way of hers.

  “Get naked.” He stalked the tiny distance between them.

  “
You too.”

  She dragged her T-shirt from her body, unhooked her bra, and hesitantly dragged her thumb across tight nipples that made his mouth water.

  Jesus, if he wasn’t careful he’d blow watching her hands on her breasts.

  He ripped his clothes from his body, dropped down on the carpet, and grabbed her ankles, his body wound tight. “Sit on my face. I’m going to suck you dry, and you’re going to do the same to me.”

  Her gaze went to his throbbing dick twitching in anticipation. She licked her lips and dropped to her knees, the sweet scent of her muskiness unbolting him. His hands clasped her soft butt while his tongue teased her opening.

  If he died right now, he’d be good to meet his maker with Sophie on his tongue and her moaning his name.

  He sank two fingers into her, stroking high, scorching heat pouring out of her.

  She leaned forward. His fingers clutched her thighs when her mouth found his twitching cock, her tongue working his piercing before she took him deep.

  Christ.

  His body bucked upward. If she kept her mouth on him much longer, he’d be coming in her throat, and he had every intention of coming in her sweet body. She moaned against his cock, the vibration going straight to his balls.

  He bit her ass, and she gasped, her mouth never leaving his cock. She ground herself into his face. He felt her build. Felt the tension grip her muscles. She’d started to caress his cock taking him deeper until he was a heartbeat from coming. With his hand he eased her mouth from him, ignoring her protest, instead concentrating on her. He alternated between sucking her clit, circling it with his tongue, and thrusting with his fingers until her body stiffened and she cried out, convulsing around him, her inner muscles contracting around his fingers like a vise.

  Her moisture ran down his face, soaking his hair.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured.

  He moved her limp body so she sat in his lap. Her head slumped, sweat dripped down her cleavage. He leaned forward, licking the salt from her skin.

  A dreamy smile hit her face.

  He reached into the back pocket of his jeans on the ground, grabbed a condom, then shifted her back slightly and in record time sheathed himself.

  With one thrust he entered her.

  She moaned, her eyes opened, and she stared at him. Her bottom lip snagged against her teeth. Her breasts mashed against his chest. She tilted her hips to meet his thrusts.

  Her nipples were dark and swollen against the white flesh of her breasts.

  “I love hearing your little gasp when I do this.” His hips pushed higher. On cue a throaty moan slipped from her lips.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said between thrusts.

  She stilled. “I want you,” she said without hesitation.

  He thrust harder and deeper, taking ownership of her, telling her with his body she was his.

  She moaned his name, and he couldn’t control it any longer and thrust his orgasm into her.

  He eased out of her, laid her spent body on the floor, and gazed down at her. After a few minutes the haze cleared from her eyes. “Why are you pierced?” She reached out and gently traced her finger across his chest. His body shivered at her touch.

  He pressed a curl of her hair behind her ear. “A guy I know said how much better sex was with his cock pierced, for both him and his girl.” His other hand traced circles on her hip and stomach. A tremor vibrated along her body, much the same as her touch was doing to his. “I read up on it, liked the sound, so did it. It makes sex more intense.”

  “It does,” she said in a shy, quiet voice, goose bumps covering her body.

  Sophie without her guard up.

  Mesmerizing.

  “I thought you’d be covered in ink.” She continued to trace the nipple ring, and his dick appreciated the attention.

  He shrugged and shifted, giving his dick space. “Haven’t found anything that means enough that I want it on my body permanently.”

  He didn’t see the point of inking his body with a tribal design that didn’t mean shit to him.

  She nodded, and a comfortable silence stretched between them. He could stare down at her body all day and never get bored.

  She stretched. “I’m going to head for the shower. I need a power nap before dinner and the fountains.”

  He stilled, his eyes feasting on her round butt. “Interesting birthmark.”

  Her head half turned.

  “It’s a heart.”

  “It is. I look forward to tracing it with my tongue.”

  She blushed even harder.

  He stood and moved toward the kitchen and the trash can. “Have your shower, and I’ll call the bar where Suzie works to see if she’s there.”

  She stood, her mouth open in protest, but he cut her off. “Whoever answers the phone is more likely to tell a guy wanting some Suzie action if one of their staff is working tonight.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “As wrong as that sounds, thanks.” Her hands shielded her breasts. “Um…can you turn around or something so I can run to the bathroom?”

  “Sophie, you have curves. Beautiful, soft curves.” He walked to where she stood trying to cover herself. He leaned in and kissed her shoulder. “I’m going to watch your sweet butt and get hard doing it.”

  “Stop it.” She ducked her head. “And stop looking at me.”

  “It’s the best view in the world.” He chuckled when she sprinted to the bathroom. He should be sending an update to Petrov, but not after just thoroughly fucking the asset he was supposed to be guarding. He’d send an email later when his dick wasn’t hard.

  Petrov might have to wait a while.

  Later that evening, Harlan threw the remote on the sofa, one eye on the time, the other on the game.

  It had taken him two point five minutes to throw on black dress jeans, a dark blue long-sleeved shirt, and boots.

  “Jesus, Sophie. We’re late, would you—?”

  Harlan froze when Sophie walked into the room adjusting an earring. A bronze-colored silk dress clung to her curves, hitting mid-thigh. Gladiator-type sandals with laces crisscrossed up her long legs. The dress dipped to a V, showing a swell of breast. Her hair in a braid lay on her back. Bronze gloss stained her lips. Her skin shimmered. The soft scent of raspberries filled the room.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growled, meaning every word.

  “I’m not gorgeous.” She frowned. “It isn’t something I’d ever wear.” She rubbed her index finger down her cleavage. “And I’m really worried the tape will unstick, and I’ll flash the world my B’s.”

  The thought of another man’s eyes on her made him want to punch the fucker for even daring to look.

  And it shouldn’t.

  But it did.

  The thought ripped through him.

  He’d do anything to kick something hard right now, because he shouldn’t be having any feelings for Sophie.

  I don’t do relationships or fucking feelings.

  He should be totally focused.

  Sophie’s hand landed in his and squeezed.

  “Are you okay? You look pissed, annoyed, and, if I didn’t know you better, a little bit sad.”

  He looked down at her hesitant face.

  But fuck me, it’s hard to stay focused when the most beautiful woman on the planet is at my side.

  “Yeah, babe, all good.”

  He kissed her hard, only stopping because his stomach sent a loud complaint that it needed food. Stat.

  Sophie giggled and burrowed into his side. “My man needs feeding.”

  He froze along with her.

  “It’s a figure of speech,” she said moving away from him, pink staining her cheeks.

  “We’re going to dinner, then we’re seeing the fountains.”

  His hand grasped hers.

  Her man.

  Ten minutes later, they stood outside a pair of opulent, gold doors. A menu promised New Zealand Bluff Oysters from virgin waters, pink venison, and Wagyu beef.


  “Through those doors; we’ve got reservations.”

  She stood with one hand on her hip, eyes flashing. “Buffet is in my budget and there’s one here in this hotel.”

  She smiled slowly, and he had good reason to think he was fucked.

  “So, let’s compromise. You chow down on hand-reared lamb while I dig into all-you-can-eat meatballs, breadsticks, and cream puffs. We’ll meet back here in ninety minutes. Good to go?”

  If he had his blood pressure taken it would have cardiologists dismayed. “Seriously? You want mass-produced salad, bread rolls, and vats of spaghetti Bolognese?”

  “Yep, I do. It isn’t just a buffet. According to the guidebook it’s a Vegas buffet.” She rolled the word “Vegas” as if it were spun sugar on her tongue.

  “What does that mean?” He ran his hands through his hair.

  “No idea, but all you can eat for forty bucks is a winner.”

  His mouth touched her ear. “If it’s about the money, I’m paying.”

  She stood tall and proud. “I’m paying.”

  Like her, he’d grown up without much, and he got that she didn’t like taking handouts. He admired her tenacity and her skills as a PI, but tonight he was taking Sophie out, and when he took women out, he paid.

  The smile on her face slipped. “Besides, I’ve got to pay you back for Celine Dion’s room.”

  She leaned in to him, her soft breast pressing against his arm, which he tried hard to ignore. But when she was this close, his dick took over from his brain.

  “You can pay me back, but not in currency.” His hand rested on her hip.

  She looked confused before her face flushed. “Oh.”

  With his hand splayed across the bottom of her spine, he guided her toward where he wanted to go, but she stopped and dug in her heels.

  “I don’t mind meeting you back at the hotel, but this is probably the only time I’ll come to Vegas, and I really want to try one of their buffets.”

  He swore at the determination scrawled on her face. He didn’t want to draw attention by having a stand-up fight. He gave her a nod and was rewarded by a smile that made relenting worth it.