Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 (7 page)

She curved a hand around the underside of his chin and tugged up. “No, keep looking at me. I like the way you watch me.”

His fingers gripped the top of her ass. “How do I watch you?”

“Like you’re hungry. For me.”

“That’s because I am.”

That did it. She went flying over the edge of the canyon, spun wild on the absolute rush of his faith.

She wrenched his hair. “Kiss me.” Another order. They spilled out of her mouth more easily each time.

“All you had to do was tell me,” he growled.

He stretched up and she leaned down at the same time. Hot. Fast. Immediate. A coming together of more than lips, more than his tongue in her mouth. Their teeth clicked together. Hard.

She moaned into him. His hands spread across her lower back. The blend of cold metal and warm leather scraped her skin. She bit his lower lip, which gave slightly under her teeth.

Leah pulled back, gripping his silky hair when his mouth tried to follow her.

God, it was like she’d been waiting six years for this force. This energy. Every move he’d ever made was recast as a silent promise of that moment…

Leah reached out and found the matching cuff in the drawer. It locked around his other wrist with another quiet click she could barely hear over the whooshing in her ears. Lacing her fingers through his, she pulled his hands into the small space between their bodies to look at the matching cuffs. Strong, rough wrists. Taut tendons. A light dusting of golden hair. All of it bound, as he’d allowed her to do.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” she breathed.

“You’re telling me.”

She kissed him the second time, taking his mouth with hers. Her fingers clawed under his T-shirt, then yanked it up over his head. She held back a soft moan when she finally saw him bared.

He looked every bit as good as she’d thought he would. The thick, heavy curves of his pecs were dusted with a whorl of golden-brown hair. His tightly sprung abs weren’t just a six-pack but a freaking
eight
-pack. She wanted to bite her way down his body and scrape her nails over the rows of tiny ligaments that bound his ribs to his stomach.

With her hands at his shoulders, she pushed him onto the mattress until he stretched out sideways across the wide space. He
let
her, leashing all that latent strength.

She crawled onto the bed, over him, kissing him the whole time. Her knee grazed over the thick bulge of his cock, all wrapped up in his jeans. She paused, then deliberately did it again. A little hint of danger. She absorbed his full-body shudder.

Even through the thick denim, he was huge. His cock seemed bigger than she remembered, but maybe that was his excitement. He was masculine enough to club things, all full-on Neanderthal, but he didn’t. He was holding back, obviously reining himself in. Waiting on her. Waiting on her commands.

Her thoughts hit her so strongly that she needed to press flat against him, edging her knees out to straddle him. She laced her fingers through the bands of the leather cuffs and pinned him down with his wrists by his head.

She took another kiss, even rougher this time, trying to steel herself for what she might do next. Nothing prevented the wild-fire heat that roared up once she fitted her pussy over his cock and rocked. Twice. God, that felt so damn good, like she could come from the pressure alone.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to pull back. Her tongue slicked over her bottom lip, drawing in his taste—sweetness from the sodas, plus a salty bite that was only him.

“Michael,” she purred, intentionally grazing her nipples over his bare chest. “You do realize I’m going to do very bad things to you?”

Chapter Eight

Mike had lost the rhythm of his own breath. It pressed out of his lungs in fits and hot gulps. Every inhalation brushed his naked skin against Leah’s lush breasts. He wiggled his fingers, which tingled almost to the point of numbness.

“Yes,” he rasped. “I realize that.”

She was going to do bad things to him, and thank Christ for it. The razor blade of the last few moments had dulled, replaced by a different sort of danger. No more worry about whether he’d misjudged her—only a calm hunger as his arousal spiked.

Relief came first. Then anticipation. His pleasure was another person’s domain now. That simple release held an appeal he’d never been able to explain. From it he found the most satisfaction.

“You’re shaking,” she whispered, her voice somewhat awed.

“I am.”

“Is it me or the getup?”

“Both.”

She leaned in close and licked him from the notch at the base of his throat up to his chin. His evening stubble rasped under her wet tongue. “Explain it to me.”

“If I didn’t want you and trust you, I wouldn’t have asked you to open that drawer.” He swallowed. “The right woman plus the right moment.”

“The right woman, huh? I like that.”

As if to prove the point, she shoved down on the restraints she held, sinking the backs of his hands into the lightweight comforter. Her mouth pushed over his. She angled her head so that their lips matched. No wasted space. No room to maneuver. He took her kisses as she offered them—fierce, hard, greedy. The sweep of her tongue over his sent a hot jolt down to his guts. The hard-on he’d been sporting half the night was a beast now, eager to come out to play.

But that was her choice. Her decision.

Mike sank into the freedom of it. He let his mind drift on pure sensation. She still tasted of Coke, but that was giving way to the woman beneath. Her breath fanned across his cheek as she dove in for another frantic kiss. He wanted to tell her she could slow down. He wasn’t going anywhere. Yet he remained quiet, absorbing her eagerness like the burn of three fingers of bourbon.

She released his hands and sat up. With a quick toss of her arms over her head, she was topless. Just like that.

A clutching noise grated out of his throat. His upper body jerked as if he’d been struck. Christ, to receive pain from this woman…

He yanked that idea back down and shoved it away. He’d lose it if he got ahead of himself. Keeping control around Leah was going to be difficult enough without supposing more.

“Oh, that was fun,” she said with a laugh.

“What?” He didn’t sound like himself. Wrapped and wound, he was a turbine pushed to overheating.

“Seeing your face. I could do anything, couldn’t I?” A bright smile turned those crooked lips into a masterpiece. “I could touch myself right now without even letting you out of your jeans. I think I could get off just watching your face.”

“But you won’t.”

She painted her hands across his abs in a slow, worshipful slide. Her fingers thumped softly over every rib. “You hope.”

“You won’t,” he said again with more force. The only thing he had over her now was experience, and even that was likely to be fleeting. She’d wrapped his wrists as if she’d done it for years. “Otherwise it’d be like having an entire buffet laid out for your pleasure, but you stick to a bologna sandwich.”

“So you’re my buffet?”

“That’s how you’re looking at me. Turns me on, Princess.”

She tweaked his nipples so hard that he flinched. “No. No ‘Princess’. Not here.”

His laugh felt good, just a small release to the pressure. “Noted.” He caught her gaze again then ducked his eyes. “It turns me on, Leah.”

“But
you
don’t look at me. Why not?” She smiled and licked up from his navel—all wet and ticklish and sexy as hell. “Wait, don’t tell me. Permission again?”

He nodded. Her hair brushed over his abs, and the angle of her torso intensified the push of her pussy against his rock-hard cock.

“Well, here’s the deal, Michael.” He couldn’t suppress the shudder that worked down his spine. Leah tipped her head to the side. “What…?
Michael
?”

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, he fought for calm. Fought to breathe.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You like your full name.” She grinned against his stomach then bared her teeth. At that sweet scrape, testing such sensitive skin, Mike made fists. She tugged the waistband of his jeans. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, I do like that.” She tugged again, which focused his attention where he most wanted her fingers. “Here’s the deal, Michael. I
want
you to look at me. Whenever you want. I give you that permission. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said on a long exhalation.

He indulged. Because Leah Girardi was a beautiful woman. Her lean thighs bunched around his waist, clasping against his with every movement. The breasts she’d bared were full despite her trim physique, tipped with coffee-and-cream areolas and pert, almost small nipples. Mike swirled his tongue over his lower lip as if licking her flesh.

“That’s right,” she whispered. Her fingers clenched along the V line of muscles that arrowed down from his hips. “Do you like what you see, Michael?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy. But now it’s my turn. I want you naked.”

Mike sank deeper into the arousal that was quickly chipping into his brain, making inroads toward his control. Sinking in was easier than fighting it. He absorbed it like any extreme sensation—pleasure or pain, hot or cold, fear or desire. At that moment they all felt like Leah.

She thumbed open the top button and wrenched down his zipper. No grace. He relaxed even further. They were in this together. A partnership of sorts, despite the lopsided control.

“Up.”

Mike boosted his hips. The jeans took another time or two to give up on his ass. Leah’s look of concentration and wonder held him enraptured. So much of what he wanted was in that expression.

“Damn, you’re built,” she said with a laugh.

Another chuckle from Mike. He definitely felt like her own personal smorgasbord, complete with caviar and mimosas. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Keep up that
ma’am
stuff. Very nice.”

Leah’s hand trailed down the front of his boxer briefs. Dark brown baby-doll eyes widened. She made a little “O” with her mouth then slid her forefinger inside the elastic band. Mike tensed. His limbs shook. She lifted her gaze to watch his face. That tickling rub turned sharp as she scraped his skin with her nail.

Mike breathed through his mouth. She did it again, and he bit his back teeth together, resisting the hard, primal pull that demanded more. Throw her down. Open her legs. Drive deep.

“That is a beautiful thing to watch,” she murmured.

“What is?”

“Your face. Holding back. Being good for me.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know. And you deserve a reward.” She dipped her whole hand into his briefs. Her damp palm closed over his shaft.

Mike’s hips rose involuntarily. He thrust into her closed fist.

“Be still.” Her no-nonsense tone froze every muscle.

She nodded once. Funny how such a small measure of approval set a fire in his chest.

“Now relax,” she said.

Doing his best, he forced each muscle group to unfurl the gathered tension. Between his shoulders, down his spine, in the bunching of his abs—then lower to his thighs, ass, calves. Even his toes. He shuddered on a slow, slow exhalation.

“Very nice, Michael. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Apparently a lot more confident about his control than he was, Leah resumed her exploration of his erection. The treasure she found there, and Mike’s pleasure in seeing her shock, was a twin jolt to his nerves.

“My, you are full of surprises.” She caressed the ring that banded his cock just beneath the head. “Do you wear it all the time?”

Words swam just outside of his comprehension as she kept petting.

“Michael. Answer me.”

He fisted his fingers in his hair. “Not on duty. Can get distracting.”

“I can imagine. It’s lovely. Who bought it for you?”

“I did.”

“Good. Then it can stay.” The “O” was back, shaping her mouth as she admired him. A hot wave of tingles flushed his naked body. His skin felt too pinched, too sharp. “I wonder what it would feel like for me.”

“Try it.”

“Ask me,” she said.

“For what?”

“What it is you want.”

God, he couldn’t think. Drums pounded behind his eyes. He watched, transfixed, as she swirled a drop of fluid around his head. “Not going to last long that way,” he gasped.

Leah eased back on her heels. “You
will
last. My orders. Got it? If you come now, I get up and walk out.”

“You haven’t been doing this long enough to bluff.”

“Try me,” she said tartly.

She looked like a Valkyrie or a demonic ballerina, all soft features and fierce control. He didn’t want her to go—positive, suddenly, sure that she meant what she’d said. So he locked it down. He had a raging hard-on to end all hard-ons, but getting her permission was what he really wanted. Satisfying the fierce, biting need of his body was a secondary concern. He’d indulge once she gave the say-so.