Inside Bet: Vegas Top Guns, Book 2 (6 page)

She shuddered. “And now?”

He gently pushed until she knelt on the chair, facing away from him. Jon held her upper arms and levered her forward until her shoulders rested against the padded back. The placement of the chair meant her forehead brushed the window glass, and her gorgeous ass was vulnerable to his whims. Her knees spread outward, but Jon didn’t miss how she linked together her big toes. Nerves, despite her stoic front.

Breathing steadily to calm his anticipation, he moved around the room to douse the lights. One by one they winked out until the bright city provided most of the illumination. The only lamp he left on shed a perfect circle of white over the artistic tableau he’d made of Heather.

“Las Vegas glows at night, doesn’t it?”

She made a humming agreement. “I love cities at night. Maybe Las Vegas most of all.”

“Do you think anyone can see you?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Do you
want
them to see you?”

Heather didn’t answer, so he gave her ass a quick slap. She gasped. Then, caressing with exquisite care, he touched her neck with soft strokes before skimming down to the deep curves of her body.

He pressed his mouth to the dip of her lower back, right above the swelling peach of her ass. He placed a kiss on the skin turned slightly pink by his slap. His voice vibrated along her back as he said, “You’re going to have to listen to me, Ms. Morris. Or risk the consequences.”

Chapter Seven

Heather pushed back against him and spun around.

This was getting out of hand, but not how any good woman would fear. She was
losing
. Every challenge was a high-stakes wager. Jon would take every hand if she didn’t put a stop to it. He was a Svengali with no fear of being bested. She wasn’t going to let him have her that easily.

“Who said you could turn around?” he asked, his eyebrow lifted.

He was still
clothed
, for Christ’s sake.

“I used my natural-born free will,” she said.

“Overrated.”

“I want to see you naked too.”

Another guy might’ve turned her back over the chair and fucked her. She’d been with men like that. Jon kept his gaze steady, his body tense, his mind firmly in control. He was even smiling, complete with dimples—the tempting smile that had first hinted at his true nature. The game was still on and he was still winning.

Even the way he undressed was a series of calculated moves. The buttons. The fabric parting. The zipper sounding so very loud as her breathing accelerated. Heather soaked in every movement just as he had with her, until he stood naked.

Lean and toned, he had a street-fighter’s body and an angel’s face. Tendons and ropes of muscle covered long, graceful bones. Even his cock matched the rest of his physique—long, arrow straight, and as hard as a glass dildo. He didn’t have an ounce of softness on him.

“Come here,” she said.

She wiggled forward on the chair, hoping he’d give in just this much. With an indulgent smirk, he met her there. Their nearness put her mouth right at the level of his navel. She nudged his cock aside with her cheek, flicked her tongue along the shaft, her eyes gazing upward.

“I want you to give me what I want,” she said against the skin of his stomach.

“You have my attention.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she whispered. “
Really
fuck me. Enough teasing now.”

“You make teasing worth my while. I love seeing the war on your face just before you give in.”

Heather nuzzled the trail of hair that led down from his bellybutton. The best she got was an involuntary shiver along the backs of his legs.

That’s it, flyboy.

She’d already come. Even if she didn’t come again for the rest of the weekend—which seemed
really
unlikely—it would still be the best in recent memory. Now was the time to take a chance and drag him along too.

Slowly, she rose from the chair. Her breasts glanced against his chest, and his erection burned her stomach. The curiosity in his eyes was encouraging. She’d win another fantastic orgasm
and
memory of the moment when he cracked.

“Captain Carlisle, do you know the business definition of compromise?”

He lifted an eyebrow. It was comical and sexy and terrorizing all at once. “Not my forte.”

She brushed her lips along his upper arm, circling, kissing the taut flesh between his shoulder blades. Another shiver from him. Her body clenched in response. She started mid-spine and licked all the way up. The base of his neck was tight with cables of muscle. She found a place to nestle her teeth, then sank deep.

He groaned.

Heather smiled against the bite marks. “It’s where each party walks away satisfied while giving up as little as possible.”

“What are you willing to give up?” He sounded hoarse now. She wanted him to keep talking, to let that low silky voice coil under her skin, but she didn’t trust herself.

Naked, peppered by the lights of Vegas, they stood face-to-face. She glanced down her body. With her hands still tied behind her back, her breasts pushed out more boldly. Her nipples, one topped by the shining gold ring, seemed to be reaching for him. “That should be obvious. I checked my modesty at the door.”

Jon’s nostrils pulsed with each breath, so much less steady now. “And what is…untouchable?”

“My self-respect,” she said plainly. “I need to be able to look myself in the mirror come morning.”

His narrow eyes pinched. Heather wanted to look away—he probed that deeply. Taking notes. Making plans.

She chose her words carefully. “Whereas you believe your self-control is beyond reach.”

He chuckled. “You want me to lose control?”

“No,” she whispered. “I want to
make
you lose it.”

“I must say. You are
fascinating
.”

Yes, fascinating now. All of her secrets would be his, if he had his way. Then their games would be over. She knew that through hard lessons. Men tired of girls who had no mystery left to offer.

Heather pushed that inevitability away and slipped past his side. Jon padded behind, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. He was elemental at her back. She was being hunted. This time she would not be caught unless she allowed it.

As Jon followed her into the bedroom, however, she doubted her resolve. His expression was so self-assured. He had no doubt as to how this would end—on his terms. That confidence was unnerving, especially considering how masterful he’d been thus far. She knew it would only get better, which was as intimidating as hell.

“So this will be our field of battle?” His smug tone settled it. They were absolutely
not
going to start on the sumptuous king-sized bed. Likely he knew such a space as well as he did his posh sports car.

He reached for her waist, but she edged away. A husky laugh twisted out of her chest. “Not here.”

He grinned as if accepting the dare while Heather took the opportunity to scan the room. Possibilities.
See it the way he sees it. As kinky as you wanna be.

Her eyes were drawn back to the windows. She’d had such a thrill looking out over the city, high on the possibility that someone could be watching. The chair had been her shield. A safeguard.

A safeguard she no longer needed.

She licked her lips. “That war you like to see? Just before I give in? That’s what I want from you.”

A strange expression passed over his face. His lips parted in the way that sped her blood and wet her thighs. The tension around his eyes faded. He looked nearly as young as his features insisted. “I almost believe you could do it.”

Without saying a word, she strolled the length of the bedroom, drawn to the windows like a bug to a light. Jon’s gaze sizzled along her spine. She could almost hear his curiosity, almost taste it.

After stepping around the long chaise, she faced the city. Entirely nude. Her arms still loosely bound. Anticipation wiggled under her skin. She stepped forward until her nipples touched the window. The ring made the smallest
clink.
She pressed, kept pressing, until her torso was flush, her thighs spread.

He could leave her there, she realized with a tremor of dread. Jon Carlisle could leave her pressed against the glass, her body exposed to the whole Strip.

That would be devastating.

But then his heat pushed against her back. Such a contrast to the cool window. “What a picture you make.” He traced a finger along her side. “This tattoo says more and more about you with every passing second. You push it away, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And what fear are you pushing away right now?”

She turned her face so that her cheek touched the implacable glass. “That you’ll leave me here.”

“Standing against the window, with no one to come play?”

“Yes.”

He brushed his fingers along the backs of her thighs. “That would be an incredible waste. Because, my dear Ms. Morris,” he said against her shoulder, “I cannot recall a more erotic sight.”

Relief coursed through her, a reward for her daring. His appreciation was the strongest aphrodisiac. The sound of a condom wrapper jacked her need even higher. So wet now, her inner thighs slick, she shifted to try to relieve the rekindled ache. Soon he would touch her. Soon he would be inside her.

His hands gently spread her open. He was so deliberate, even now, pushing up and in with a long, slow thrust. Sensation surged from that contact. He filled her completely, stretching her, radiating fiery sparks of pleasure out from where they joined. His groin nestled flush to her ass. Heather moaned again as he pressed her flat against the window. Her breathed fogged the glass.

“What must you look like,” he said near her ear, his voice strained. “I can only imagine.”

“And you like that.”

“God, yes.”

His pace quickened much faster than she’d expected. Perhaps the man had limits too. His cock was gloriously hard, so long that each driving thrust reverberated toward her belly. The rhythm he established was just…perfect. Quick, steady, deep. He found her hips with tense hands, gripping in time with his strokes.

Heather lost herself in that rhythm, pounding and building so strongly that it blotted out thought. Only sound and sensation remained, climbing. Jon’s breathing rasped. She had to hold on a little longer, resisting an orgasm that threatened like a tidal wave.

He unexpectedly withdrew but didn’t leave, didn’t tease. Instead he cupped four fingers up inside her and scooped away her flood of moisture. He slid his hand down her thighs, painting her own arousal on her skin.

Heather shook with want as he pulled her back from the glass and bent her at the waist. Untying her arms, which tingled with a rush of returning sensation, Jon pressed her hands against the glass. Slippery masculine fingers twined with hers.

His thrusting return was all the more powerful for the fresh friction. Their bodies slapped and pulsed, working at finding their rhythm once again. Jon teased her nipple ring, her clit, but then settled his forearm lengthwise along her spine. He pushed.
Hard
.

The force arched her back, bowing her deeply, and reared her ass up to meet his assault. He grunted softly with each ramming thrust. His forearm pressed a counterpoint pressure to his cock. Pain gathered along her spine, just as immeasurable pleasure built where he worked. It was all too much. She wanted him to stop, wanted to use the safe word.

That thought made Heather clench her teeth. No way.
No way
was he breaking her so easily. She knew he was that powerful, that dangerous. The only escape was to come before she gave in.

Her body burst apart. A fiery climax sizzled up from her cunt. She clenched and trembled. The blinding haze nearly obliterated her plan, but she nudged it away just enough—just enough to shove Jon back.

Free of him, Heather turned against the window. She pushed her stiff fingers hard against her clit, pressing, as the waves continued to crash and throb. Knees soft, she slid down. The sweat on her back squeaked along the glass. All the while she watched Jon’s dazed, bewildered expression. She landed on the carpeted floor, her knees splayed. The angle of her crisscrossed forearms thrust her breasts forward.

“Come on my tits,” she gasped.

Jon blinked. “Fuck it.”

He stripped his condom with a quick snap. Dick in hand, he closed the scant distance between them and jerked. Faster, faster, he worked his cock from balls to head and back again. He panted through his open mouth, eyes black. The tendons along his wrist and forearm bulged with the strain until, at last, he groaned long and loud. Hot come shot across her breasts.

He sagged to the floor, kneeling between her open thighs.

Heather leaned her head against the glass, smiling. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his face between her breasts.

“Clean me up,” she whispered.

He stroked his tongue over skin sleeked with his hot release. Lapped it up without hesitation. She held him there as he finished, moaned and collapsed against her body.

Chapter Eight

Jon pushed his forehead against the cool window, but nothing could wipe away the slide of his chest over Heather’s. Neither would he want it to be otherwise. Her body was everything lush and wicked.

And her mind…

Being pressed against her was worth every moment. Their night had been nothing short of remarkable.

He’d mapped it out from the moment he bent her forward over the chair in the living room. He’d meant to get the cheesecake out of the fridge and put the whipped cream to delectable purposes. But Heather…

Heather had taken the wheel and jerked them into another lane. Jon flew jets and drove an Aston Martin. Giving up the wheel was not comfortable. But it was certainly interesting.

And she hadn’t stopped at his orgasm. Forcing him to lick his come off her breasts had been nothing short of nuclear—an element of kink he’d never tried. The ultimate novelty.

His face hidden by the window and tucked against the crook of her neck, he let his defenses drop. No plastic grins and calculated moves. Just satisfaction. A slow breath eased the tension in his chest.