Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 (10 page)

Leah went through the motions of preparing for the day with a slightly sick chill over her skin. Even brushing her teeth became an event. Should she use his toothbrush?
Could
she, even? It seemed so minor after the trust he’d put in her hands last night. In the end, she scrubbed her teeth the best she could using toothpaste and the side of her finger, plus some mouthwash for good measure.

When she walked back into the bedroom, she found Mike awake. Watching the door for her. He still lay in bed, all lusciously tanned skin against the white sheets. Her gaze strayed to his wrists, one of which draped across his flat stomach. The other he’d splayed onto her side of the bed, as if he’d been reaching for her.

She held back a shiver, forcing her chin up and making herself smile. “Got something I can wear?”

He pointed to the double dresser across the room, which had a medium-sized flat-screen perched on top. If he held true to form, turning it on would go right to ESPN. “Second drawer on the left.”

A slightly hysterical giggle threatened to spill out of her. Last night had combusted with the opening of a different drawer. In this one she only found neatly folded T-shirts. She snagged the topmost one and pulled it on. The hem barely floated to the tops of her thighs. She scooped her hair out from the collar. The strands were a gnarled, tangled mess, but there wasn’t much she could do about it except fish a hair tie out of the pocket of her jeans.

Halfway through twisting it back into a ponytail, she turned to find Mike still watching her. His eyes were back to that default clear neon blue.

She slid back into the bed at his side. “You got a problem, pretty boy?”

“No problem at all.” He bent low over her and brushed a tender kiss on her neck. That was the Mike she remembered. Reverent and soft. Enchanting at first, but eventually she’d needed more. On that morning, however, she found herself appreciating his gentle side. “You know, I could see your whole ass when you bent over.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I meant to do that.”

“Sure you did.” He ducked out of bed, toward the bathroom, before she could land the pinch she’d intended.

Lying all alone in that huge bed, she stretched her arms up over her head, only to run her knuckles into the solid headboard. Boom, there she was again. Picturing him tied up and strapped down. For her pleasure.

God, it was debauched. But the last thing in the world she felt was bored.

Mike was still stripped butt-ass naked when he came out of the bathroom, but he headed for his dresser to grab a pair of dark green boxer briefs. “Do you want some coffee?”

So simple. So normal. A little reassuring. “Sure.”

In the morning light, his house had a certain amount of charm. It had obviously started life as a tract house, but somewhere along the way had endured several upgrades. The floors were hardwood and ceramic. Through French doors off the back of the kitchen, she saw a tidy patio and a walled-in yard of hard-packed earth with a few scraggly weeds.

Mike fumbled through the cabinets before pulling down two mugs and turning on the coffeepot. Leah eased onto a stool at the high bar and soaked him in—mostly his long, thick stretches of muscle.

He smiled again as he handed her a full cup of coffee, then laid sugar and the half-and-half in front of her. “So I’m still your personal smorgasbord, eh?”

She doctored her coffee then took a deliberate sip. Good Lord, it tasted like bitter dregs. She held down her shudder and spent her time studying him over the rim of her mug. Intentionally. Letting the slow-burn heat weaving through her body and perking her nipples show through in her gaze. “You’re all but naked. It gives a girl ideas.”

“I love creative women.” He drank his caffeine with only a little splash of the half-and-half. Just so…
normal
.

Something inside Leah faltered. Shivered with fear. She stirred her spoon in her mug, letting it clink against the sides. “How did this happen, Mike?”

The smirk curving his mouth matched his bright neon eyes—all teasing now. Her girl bits woke up at the thought of making him shift to that deep, deep blue once again. That blue screamed his arousal and hid it in dark shadows. What would it take? Her fingers buzzed with the need to find out.

“Do I need to give you a sex-ed talk? I thought you were a big girl.”

“No, not sex ed,” she said with a little laugh. “I’ve had plenty of that. But maybe BDSM 101?” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Because that is what we’re doing here, right?”

He scraped his fingers along his nape. “Yeah, you could say that. I’d prefer to say we’re having a good time. Getting off.” He aimed that volatile smile at her, the one that made her heart go pitter-pat like she were some type of idiot tweener. “Getting off majorly.”

“But I don’t know where the line is. Where we stop.”

He shrugged. “We stop wherever we want to.”

Her short breath was everything frustration. “Don’t play stupid. I know you’re not. I mean if I wanted to order you to feed me breakfast, would you?”

“If you really wanted me to, maybe. I’d think about it.” He folded his arms on the other side of the bar and leaned into them. His brow wrinkled as he thought. “I don’t know how to explain this simply though. I’m not a service sub or into humiliation. I don’t want to be treated like a piece of shit. I’m still the guy you used to know. Outside the bedroom, at least.”

“But in it, you’re different.”

She was too, it seemed. Already she was hungering for more. To give him commands and watch him obey. She craved the pretty, tormented expression on his face as she pushed and pushed, trying to find his boundaries, and the way his muscles twitched and popped as he held back.

“Yeah. I am.” He lifted his head at that, steadying his gaze. Daring her to make something of it.

A heated pulse set up between her legs. The fact that he liked to be tied up while he fucked didn’t make him any less of a man. He almost shimmered with strength and a pulse of arrogance.

Leah locked her knees together. She still had more questions.

“Is that a strict rule?” she asked.

“What? Which part?”

“In the bedroom.” She smiled slowly then tucked the bottom hem of her borrowed T-shirt between her thighs. “Like, if I told you to get down on your knees and lick me right now? Would you do that?”

His eyes turned that dark blue. His smile faltered, replaced by something hungrier. More raw. “Are you ordering me to?”

“Not yet. So by in the bedroom then, you mean sexual situations only.”

His nod was sharp, tense. “Pretty much.”

“What about your other limits? You said last night they involved third parties.”

“I’m not into guys. I’m not into forced cuckolding.”

“What?”

He was back to smug again. Apparently he liked knowing more than her. Resolve made her spine stiffen. That situation wouldn’t last long. She might have to take a field trip on her own. Brush up on the basics. It never hurt a girl to know her opponent.

“Being made to watch while you bang someone else,” he explained.

She shook her head. “No, not for me.” This tenuous thing between them was entirely too…
something
to add more people. Special, she supposed. Exotic enough as it was.

“I’ve got some other things I won’t do too, but I have a suspicion they’re not going to come up. Or I’ll give you a red light if they do.” The tiniest hint of a patronizing tone slipped into his speech. He was so damn confidant.

But that didn’t keep the power away from her.

She flashed out a hand and sank her fingers into his tumbled hair. Pulling gently, then with crueler intent, she drank in the wince that tightened the skin around his eyes. The only thing better was the way they darkened and how he slicked his tongue over his smile. His shoulders bunched as he pressed his palms flat against the scuffed countertop.

“It’s strange,” she murmured. “Even hearing you say ‘red light’ makes me want to poke deeper. See what street that light’s parked at.”

He leaned toward her, with only the counter separating them. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Haven’t you learned not to dare me?”

His laugh spilled out rich and full. Real. No playacting. “I kind of liked the results last time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Kind of?”

“Okay, immensely.” His eyelids drooped to half-mast then he tacked on a “Ma’am.”

Oh, there it was. That lovely, tingling rush of
yes, more
. She liked that entirely too much. “Come around here.”

He obeyed immediately, but every step was measured. Calculated. The bastard knew exactly what his body did to her.

When Mike was finally standing in front of her, she opened her knees. Slowly. She still held the hem of his T-shirt down over her pussy, where deep heat bloomed. Easing her heels over the rung of the stool, she slid forward on the seat. Her bare ass skipped along the leather.

“On your knees.” Her voice had gone husky, but she managed to keep it sharp. Cool.

He dropped and steadied his hands behind her knees.

She cracked his knuckles with a little pop. “Did I give you permission to touch me?”

“No, ma’am.” He slanted his gaze up at her. “Not yet.”

Leah couldn’t help but laugh. “No, not yet.” Her body was flickering to life, more every second. She lifted the T-shirt. “But
now
, Michael. Lick me. Make me come.”

Chapter Twelve

Between being assigned to the 64
^th
and his subsequent relocation, Mike hadn’t been in the cockpit of a jet for six weeks. Didn’t matter. Not right then. The rush of Leah’s demand and the sight of her pussy in full daylight hit him like the smack of adrenaline at take-off. The neatly trimmed triangle of hair hid so many secrets. Her excitement, however, was not one of them. Wetness glistened along the supple skin of her inner thighs.

He didn’t shake, didn’t fold—not under the rigors of combat. But her exposed cunt and soft command stripped the resilience from his body.

The linoleum of his kitchen floor was hard, cold, unyielding against his bare knees. He focused on that small bite of discomfort to keep his eagerness in check. She was open for him, offering him the taste he hadn’t been able to forget.

That eagerness meant he wasn’t able to play as deliberately. He could’ve dragged it out, asked for small degrees of permission. Instead he took her order as
carte blanche
. Whatever it took to make her come.

He nestled his mouth along the smooth hollow on the inside of her knee. A tingling thrill arrowed down his spine when she flinched, her exhalation already ragged. The tiny signs of her jacked arousal were enough to keep him calm and submissive. Anything she wanted,
anything
, as long as she doled out the quiet assurances that she was just as whacked-out greedy.

With his tongue, he traced the graceful line of her quads, stopping to re-wet his tongue three times. Each time he stayed put and paid extra attention to that swath of skin. Kissing. Opening his mouth. Scraping his teeth.

Leah had stayed motionless until then, when her hands scooped lightly over his shoulders. A gentle petting to start. Only as Mike eased nearer to her center did her caresses turn to keen, deep strokes. The nubs of her fingernails raced shivers up his nape, into his hair, peppering goose bumps over his scalp.

The tendons along her inner thighs were as taut as cables. He focused on just one, to start. One perfect leg. He slid his hands over and around the resilient muscle, pulling the skin until it stretched tight. That’s where he placed his mouth. No gentle caress of tongue and teeth—not this time. He sucked hard.

Leah tensed on a gasp. Her fingertips became dull daggers needling the caps of his shoulders.

Mike kept that pressure steady, sucking, taking more of her flesh into his mouth. She relented first, when two rough hands took hold of his ears. She wrenched his face to look upward.

“What did I tell you to do, pretty boy?”

“Make you come.”

Her pupils dilated and her cheeks had gone bright pink. Such a telltale face. “I said to lick me. Now show me your tongue.”

His mouth opened first, just a hint of slack because of the erotic surprise of her demand. He swallowed. Then he poked the tip of his tongue out, licking his bottom lip.

“That’s what I want, Michael. Your tongue on my clit. Do I need to be more explicit?”

He grinned up at her. “No, ma’am.”

That tingling numbness had returned, down his thighs and across the soles of his feet. He leaned closer. The breath he tried to control was a hot pulse against her moist, swollen skin, fanning back over his own face. Sticking his tongue out on purpose, chancing one last glance up at Leah’s expectant face, he licked exactly where she needed.

Taste. Ah, God. Her body’s hot wetness was a sweet thrill, almost mild—like weak tea with just a dash of sugar. He’d remembered so many things about her, always overlaid by his regret at how badly they’d fared as sex partners, but he’d never forgotten her taste. With all that had changed between them so suddenly, he basked in having the privilege again.

Over and over, he circled her clit. For some passes he kept his tongue soft and relaxed, just laving her sensitive skin, drawing her juices into his mouth with long licks. For others he flicked, teased, rocked back and forth. Her bunched nub became his focus, his entire focus.