Chapter Twenty-Four #3
The music melded from the classics to classic rock. I recognized CCR’s Bad Moon Rising from the first few chords.
Back when we’d lived in New York, Shamus had been all about classic rock. He’d listened to Springsteen until I’d wished I was born to run. It wasn’t until we’d moved to Vegas that he’d switched to the Rat Pack to fit in with his wannabe mobster pals.
Once the volume faded, the bench slowly returned to normal and the lights slowly turned on.
“What did you think?” Maximo asked, his lips against my head.
“Can we watch it again?”
“Give me a second.” He stood and went back to the control panel on the wall. Not touching it, he pulled out his phone and typed something before saying to me. “Shamus’ pal lost his stack and left.”
I’d been certain it’d been a coincidence, but it was reassuring to have confirmation—especially after the uncertain Mugsy sighting earlier.
Maximo pocketed his phone and pressed a couple control panel buttons. Within a few seconds, the lights faded as the classical music started. He sat and got us situated just before the bench lowered again.
Sinatra’s croon floated through the air and the lasers started to dance. I noticed more details I’d missed on first viewing.
So wrapped up in what I was watching, I didn’t think twice when Maximo’s hand went from my ass to rub my back under my sweater. He froze, his voice rough when he rumbled, “What’re you wearing under this, dove?”
“Uhhh…”
His hand trailed up the lacy fabric before he shifted me off him and stood. I couldn’t see what he was doing in the darkness, and my heart raced with a jumpy anticipation.
A few moments later, the show and music cut off abruptly as the lights flared to life. Maximo pressed the door open and stared at me expectantly. “Let’s go.”
I didn’t move. I just stared as he ran a tattooed hand across his jaw before sweeping his bottom lip with his thumb.
“Now, Juliet.”
At that tone, I jumped up. That didn’t stop me from muttering, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Sheesh.”
“Just because I won’t fuck you in here doesn’t mean I won’t bend you over a bench and spank your sweet ass.”
“You won’t fuck me in here?” Not that I’d expected him to, but he seemed resolute in his decision not to.
“Not with the cameras.”
“But you’d spank my ass when security could see?”
“I know where the cameras are. I’d block your body and leave your jeans on,” he said, like that made it better.
Actually, it did.
I contemplated throwing more attitude his way to see how it went.
And Maximo must’ve known I was thinking about it because lust blazed in his eyes as he adjusted the bulge in his slacks, trying to hide his hard-on.
Good luck with that.
“Don’t look at me like that, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
The way he was watching me.
The way he looked so handsome yet so wild.
The threat—the promise —in his words…
It all worked for me. My nipples were painfully hard, my body was flushed and needy, and I was wet.
Soaked.
“You’ve got five seconds to get over here,” he continued, “or I’m fucking you on a bench—cameras be damned.”
I hurried over, remaining silent as we made our way down the long art corridor and back into the main area.
Once the noises of the casino surrounded us, I couldn’t resist tormenting him the same way his obscenely sweet words tormented me.
I kept my eyes aimed in front of me and said, “I think I want to try riding your face.”
The normally unflappable Maximo stopped suddenly in the middle of the walkway and nearly caused a collision.
“Juliet,” he warned.
“You said communication was important, Daddy. So I’m communicating my desire to ride your face.”
“Christ.” He gave me a different version of the look . One that warned he’d punish me in the very best way.
We started walking again, moving through the crowds out for a wild Saturday. Our steps were forced to slow when a crush of people swarmed in with their party sashes, sparkling plastic tiaras, and big blended drinks.
Perfect.
Taking advantage of the slowdown, I tilted my head to look up at him. “I think I want to try sucking you while I ride your face. Do you think that’d work or am I too short?”
“I don’t give a damn what I need to do, I’ll make it work.”
Well, this is backfiring spectacularly.
I think I’m more turned on than he is.
I remained quiet as we weaved through the partiers. Once we were in a less dense area, I asked, “Do you think there’s a limit to how wet a woman can get before she risks dehydration? ‘Cause if there is, I’m probably nearing that point.”
“Jesus, Juliet. You and your filthy mouth are asking for trouble.”
“Yay.”
It was funny that, with everything else I’d said, my little yay was what made him crack.
Taking hold of my hand, the speed of his strides increased until I was practically jogging to keep up. Like a running back with his eyes on the end zone, he expertly maneuvered through the crowd, not slowing until we were at his elevator.
He opened it with his thumbprint, yanked me in, and hit the button to the penthouse. Before the door even closed, I was up in his arms, my back against the wall and his mouth on mine.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, taking everything he gave.
The blessedly fast elevator dinged, and Maximo carried me into the bedroom before setting me down.
My feet were barely under me when he tugged my sweater over my head.
His gaze raked over the lace and ribbon covering my torso.
“Christ, Juliet, if I knew you had this on, we wouldn’t have left the damn room. ”
“Surprise,” I breathed.
“You’re full of them.”
“Is that good?”
His sinful smile was enough to steal my breath and make me dangerously close to combusting. “The fucking best.”
Definite backfire.
“Pants and shoes off, Juliet.”
I knew once I stripped, Maximo would touch me. And once he did, I wouldn’t have the self-control to tease him any longer. It was my last opportunity, and I was taking it.
Kicking off my shoes, my movements were slow as I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans.
Maximo crossed his arms, but he didn’t say a word.
Wiggling my hips—both for the appeal and because the jeans really were skintight—I slid them down my ass to my thighs. I turned, giving him my back as I bent at the waist to shove the jeans farther down my legs.
That was as far as I got.
Maximo came up behind me, shuffling me forward until I was bent over the bed. Holding the thin fabric that covered my pussy to the side, he ran his finger through my slit. Even though it was me his skilled finger was teasing, he was the one who groaned in frustrated pleasure.
There was a rustle of fabric before the head of his cock pressed into me. Unable to spread my legs with my jeans around my knees, everything was tighter and he felt huger than his already huge.
It skirted that glorious edge between torture and bliss.
When he slid out, I reached to try to clutch him to me, not wanting him to stop. His hands spanned my hips, lifting me to kneel on the edge of the bed. He pulled my jeans off before pressing a palm between my shoulder blades. “Back a little. Ass up. That’s my good girl.”
With my torso to the mattress and my ass tipped, the height lined up just right for him to slam in. The force knocked my knees out from under me, but Maximo repositioned me and slammed in again.
Lifting just enough to look over my shoulder, a fresh surge of arousal shot through me, nearly throwing me over the edge.
Holy shit.
He actually did it.
Like the threat he’d made our first night together, he was fucking me fully clothed, his slacks lowered just enough to free himself.
The actual visual was a million times better than it’d been in my head.
_______________
“Did you have fun, little dove?” Maximo asked when we were finished and in bed for the night.
Amazing sex and two orgasms?
Definitely fun.
“Uh, yeah. I always have fun when we do that.”
Maximo chuckled, and since his body was curled around me, I heard and felt it.
“I meant this weekend.”
“Oh. Yeah, that was okay, too, I guess.”
His arm tightened around me, his voice lined with amusement. “I’m glad you found my resort fine enough .”
Said orgasms, along with the long day filled with a billion of steps, caught up to me. My eyes were closed, my body was relaxed, and I was sated and happy.
And that was why I stupidly rambled. “I used to be so envious of the tourists here. They always had so much fun. Carefree fun. I never went to the Strip to sightsee or watch the shows or eat. The only time I’ve been was to pick up Shamus because he was too fucked up or fucked over to drive. That was not fun. Today was.”
“Juliet,” he muttered, tightening his hold.
“It’s okay.” I wiggled back into him and sighed deeply.
He didn’t push the conversation, and I was grateful. I let it all go as I fell asleep.