Before I know it, we’re fighting with our clothes and with each other. Licking and sucking and feeding on each other, we kick off our shoes, haul ourselves and each other out of our jeans, and get free of our underwear.

  Her hands pull and tug, all over my body.

  "Tell me what you want, Daisy," I murmur against her ear, my fingers slipping into her hair and tugging gently, tracing my thumb delicately down the curve of her throat.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Touch me... here," she breathes, and her breath shudders. Vibrates. She arches her back. The way she presses herself against me leaves no room for doubt about the heat of her need.

  She takes my hand, strokes my fingers, then takes it down, over her breasts, with my fingertips tracing the rise of her hardening nipples.

  Guiding my hand, she trails my fingertips over her quivering belly, down to the soft fuzz of her mound, then she presses, pushing the tips of my fingers into her folds, up inside her hood, around and under her clit. She shudders. Her breath flutters and her eyebrows steeple as she pushes me deeper, against the swelling buzz of her wet clit.

  "There," she gasps. “There," she pleads. "Touch me there." I obey, circling and stroking her slick, swollen flesh as she writhes against me, her breaths coming faster and higher.

  I grab and grasp her ass, her thighs. I rub her mound, make circles with my fingers around her clit, pressing and trilling hard until her sighs and moans rasp in her throat. I part her. Open her up. Slip and stab inside her trembling wet heat. My fingers slid in higher, harder, and faster. higher until I find the soft heat, the spot that makes her whole body clench.

  I keep on until her neck strains, her face reddens, and she grabs my wrist. Her walls tug and squeeze my fingers in pulsing convulsions and she shouts as her hips thrash against my hand.

  After she stops, panting and mewling, I wait with my fingers still caressing her. I stay there until she’s subsided.

  When I finally pull my fingers out of her, I hook my hand under her thigh and lift her leg to wrap it around my waist. She's exposed, vulnerable before me, but I still hold back, restrain myself from talking full advantage. Instead, I press my forehead to hers once more, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation.

  “Joey…” she begs.

  ”Are you sure?" I ask, my voice barely audible.

  "Yes," she breathes, almost pleading. "Please, Joey."

  She reaches for me.

  Damn, she’s a sight to see. Strong, powerful, feminine and womanly in a way that’s so fierce it’s almost frightening. I have to have her. Neither of us can bear to be on the bottom, so neither of us will go to the floor or the couch or the bed. Standing, we clench like prizefighters. She grips my ass to pull me into her. I squeeze and suck on her.

  “Joey.”

  The urgency in her voice is all the permission I need. My cock is between her thighs. She shudders as I lock between her lips. Engaged and ready, right at her entrance, I shove her back against the window. Her teeth sink into my shoulder.

  With a long, merciless, deliberate thrust, I bury myself inside her. We both cry out, lost in the sensation.

  "God, Daisy," I groan, clutching her closer as I start to move, each thrust sending shivers down my spine. Our ragged breathing fills the room, mingling with the sounds of our bodies colliding. The intensity builds, echoing off the lavish walls that surround us. Every touch, every gasp, heightens the desperation we both feel.

  "Joey," she moans, her fingers digging into my shoulders as her body starts to tremble. I know she's close, and it pushes me closer to the edge too. I can't hold back any longer, not when all I want is to lose myself in her completely.

  My hands skid and skate over all of her full curves, savoring the silky smoothness of her skin as she explores mine. Our breaths come in short gasps, mingling in the heated air between us. Every curve, every angle of her body fits seamlessly against my own.

  "Joey," she whispers, her voice heavy with desire. The sound of her saying my name sends shivers down my spine and sets my heart racing.

  "Yes, yes, yes," she chants, clutching at my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin. I can feel her body tensing, hear her soft cries growing louder and more desperate.

  I have nothing to hold back with anymore. Her hips cannon against mine as I plow into her. She cries out ash she grips me, sucking with her wet, pulsing walls along my fat, hammering length. I let go and shout her name, feeling like I’m pumping my whole self into her in a magnificent supernova.

  The gilded room echoes with the ripping sighs and rasping breaths of our lust, the scent of sex and sweat mingling in the air. Golden light from the Vegas neon blurs across our bodies, highlighting Daisy's flushed skin and setting a glow in her eyes.

  She surges against my hand, and her back arches up as she shudders and cries out her release. I drink in the sight of her, radiant in her ecstasy, imprinting this moment in my mind.

  As her tremors subside, I withdraw my hand and pull her into my arms. She nestles against me with a contented sigh, her fingers tracing lazy circles across my chest.

  "You're going to be the death of me, Joey Calhoun," she murmurs, tilting her face up to meet my gaze. Her eyes are heavy-lidded but bright, filled with warmth and something I dare not name.

  "The pleasure will be mutual," I reply, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She gifts me with a smile, soft and slow, setting my heart racing once more.

  I know then, with a bone-deep certainty, that she has me – heart, body and soul. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

  I pull Daisy closer, burying my face in her hair and breathing deep. She smells of jasmine and sex, an intoxicating combination that threatens to unravel what little sense I have left.

  She presses a soft kiss to my jaw, her hands sliding down my back to cup my ass. I groan as she squeezes, desire flaring hot and bright within me once more.

  "You're insatiable," I mutter, nipping at her earlobe. She laughs, the sound husky and delighted, as she rolls her hips against me. I'm already hard again, aching to be inside her.

  "Takes one to know one," she retorts, her clever fingers tracing the length of my erection. I buck into her touch with a hiss, grabbing her wrist to still her movements.

  She holds my cock as she nibbles my ear, and she keeps hold of it as she plants kisses all the way down my neck, over my chest and stomach, and in little snatches, setting off ripples of sinful pleasure, down to the aching base of my red, swollen rod.

  I fist my hands in her hair as she takes me into her mouth, tonguing and sucking in a rhythm that makes my toes curl. The sight of her lips stretched around me is almost too much to bear, and I have to close my eyes for a moment.

  When I open them again, she's gazing up at me through her lashes, eyes gleaming with devilish angel mischief. She hollows her cheeks and takes me deeper, until I hit the back of her throat.

  My teeth grit.

  “Fuck," I seethe. My pelvis jerks. She presses her hands on my hips to hold me still, setting an achingly slow pace as she bobs up and down.

  I'm close already, heat pooling low and a buzz in my gut. She seems to sense it and pulls back, releasing me from her mouth with an audible pop.

  I glare down at her, chest heaving. She smirks up at me, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  "Not yet," she purrs, shimmying up my body to capture my lips in a searing kiss. I can taste myself on her tongue, and it makes my blood hum.

  She eases me onto my back, straddling my hips and pinning my wrists above my head. I tense, the urge to flip our positions and take control nearly overwhelming. But I remain still, curiosity winning out over instinct.

  Daisy grinds against my erection, slick heat enveloping my length. We both moan at the sensation, and she does it again, more slowly this time.

  "I want to ride you," she breathes against my mouth, nipping at my lower lip. "I want to feel you come inside me."

  My hips buck at her words, cock throbbing almost painfully. She lifts up and sinks down on me in one smooth glide, enveloping me in tight, wet heat.

  We cry out together, the pleasure-pain of it stealing my breath. She clenches around me as she starts to move, riding me with abandon, her hair falling around us in a golden curtain.

  I meet her thrust for thrust, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as I drive up into her. Her nails rake down my chest, and she throws her head back, spine arching.

  "Let go, Daisy," I shout, my voice strained as I struggle to maintain control. "Come with me."

  Her grip on my shoulders tightens, and her eyes lock onto mine. Her vulnerability, the raw desire in her gaze, it's almost too much. With a final thrust, I send us both over the edge, our bodies shuddering together as we spiral toward release.

  She calls my name again, and that sets me off as she tenses and convulses. Her soft wetness grips and clenches, suckling on my rigid length, and I’m pumping, hosing her, coating her insides with thick, hot spunk.

  Finally she’s trembling, limp like a wet rag doll, murmuring, saying my name over and over.

  She sleeps like she really needs it. I stay quiet. Keep her in my arms. Watch over her.

  It can wait till she’s rested, but there’s a reason she came to Vegas, and to my club. I need to know some answers.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Blinking, yawning, and stretching, I wake up dazzled and all wrapped up in the Ox. Delicious aromas of coffee and breakfast drift around the room, over the scents of rampant ox. OH! I remember some of last night. Ohmigod! I remember some more. Was I in shock, or is he really that huge? I lift the covers for a peek.

  Ohfuck!

  He holds me so nicely. I could just stay here in his big dumb arms, nestled in his big dumb chest. Feed on his big dumb cock every once in a while. And there’s a big, very promising looking trolley by the window with lots of white linen, a coffee pot, and two big silver domes.

  And then I remember why I’m in this showy adult fairyland. I groan.

  “Don’t move.” Damn. If I didn’t know better I could mistake that roll in his voice for tenderness. “I got you coffee, fruit juice, and French toast. They have great maple syrup here.”

  His chest is too nice a place to be. I nuzzle in for a few moments. “Nice breakfast in the jails here.”

  He grunts.

  “I’ll get you coffee.”

  He gets up, and I almost tumble into the pillows and covers. There’s the ox I remember.

  “Did we drink much last night? I don’t remember drinking, and I don’t feel like I did.”

  “Not at all. Why, you want to get some beers and make an early start?”

  “No, coffee’s good.” I pull the covers up closer. I’m not quite ready to be awake. “No milk, just sugar. It’s just that parts of yesterday keep drifting back, and I wonder if it was a bad dream.”

  “What I remember, it wasn’t all bad.” He hands me a big, white breakfast cup, sitting in an oversized saucer. Cute.

  He sits, perching on the bed beside me.

  The coffee’s good. “I was such an idiot, getting into that guy’s car.”

  “You were good, making him crash.”

  “If you hadn’t parked across the exit like that…” I look up into his face. Stroke his hard stubble. “You were ballsy. Standing square in front of a speeding truck.”

  He shrugs. “My time in service, I trained up pretty well. My reflexes are good and I can make a fast decision.”

  He’s thoughtful. I heard in the club that he lost someone recently. So there’s something we have in common. I won’t bring it up unless he does, though.

  He asks me, “You have any idea who he was? Anything he say give you any clues?”

  “No. He acted like the good Samaritan. Kind stranger, you know? Good citizen, helping out a damsel in distress.” Then I remember, “He was in the bookstore earlier. And I wondered if he was watching me.”

  I finish the coffee, and he takes the cup and saucer. “More?”

  “Not yet,” I tell him. “I found a book and looked at it, and I was fairly sure he came to look at the same book after I moved away.”

  “You remember what the book was?”

  “It’s a book called Fobbit.” He snaps to attention. I tell him, “I heard the word when you said it to that cop. Or he said it to you, I don’t remember which.”

  “So you know what it means?”

  “I do now, sure. It’s a derogatory term, used in the military. It’s about people in a forward base who never go outside. They play with spreadsheets and PowerPoint while everyone else is out getting blown up and shot at. Forward Base hobbit.”

  His eyes tighten. “So, what’s your interest?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t have any. Or I didn’t think I did.” I sit up, propped against the headboard in a sea of pillows. “I would like more coffee now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Damn. Even his sarcasm is sexy. That icy tone makes me wriggle.

  While he pours the coffee, I’m thinking about French toast. I guess it must be under the silver domes. I don’t want it to go cold. But I’m not ready for it yet.

  “But why were you and the cop talking about it?”

  He freezes for a moment by the window, looking back at me with the cup and saucer in his hand. Now I wish I had my camera. I could get my phone, but the moment would be gone. A huge beast, raw and barely tame, framed over Vegas, crouching and suddenly alert among the linens.

  The picture in my mind could be enough to keep me warm at night.

  Slowly, he says, “Friend of mine was killed. Murdered. Just a couple of days ago.”

  “That’s why the cop was there?”

  He shrugs. “They find a body, they gather all the names they can. Try sticking the murder on each one of them, one at a time. Most of the time, they’ll probably get lucky in the first couple of shots.”

  “So who’s the Fobbit?”

  “A dead end, most likely. The Fobbit is long dead, that’s for sure.”

  I don’t ask. I wait. That’s how I learned to take pictures. You see the moment coming, your job is to be ready and stay ready. Wait and don’t be too quick to jump on it. Sure, you can take sixty pictures in a second, but you don’t want sixty pictures. You want one. The one that tells the story. If you’re holding the button, blindly shooting everything in sight, you are definitely going to miss the picture.

  He tells me, and it’s a dull, drab story.

  The Fobbit was a mid-level city council official who got his big house on Lake Mead by gouging club owners over club licenses. Where he was smart, the thing he got right, was he didn’t do too much and he didn’t gouge them too much. All he did was make it easier and quicker – and he could more or less guarantee that your licenses would go through.

  “I didn’t pay him the grift.” Joey is one hell of a sight, silhouetted in the low, hazy morning light, hunkering toward me with coffee cups in his hands. Sweet dreams are made of this, for sure.

  He hands me my fresh coffee and sits back on the bed.

  “It wasn’t all that much that he wanted, but I didn’t like the look of him. Didn’t mind the waiting, and I didn’t want any part of my business in his pocket.” He smiles, “Plus, I hadn’t been too long back out of service, so I was maybe a little green around the gills. Now, I probably would just pay up and chomp it down.”

  He flashes a grin and gulps some coffee. Not sipping. He drinks like an animal. Well-mannered, but only just. I have a picture of Daddy in profile, drinking just like that.

  “So, some new DA came in on a popular wave and was out to make a name for himself. City and state corruption are always low-hanging fruit. You’re safer going after pudgy guys with glasses. The big boys are liable to send you back messages in high explosive. Fobbit was in the first trawl. Turned rat on his first interview, trying to wriggle out of state time. Got away with six months, but he couldn’t even hack the first week. Found himself a belt and got out the quick way.”

  “And your friend?”

  “Declan? Declan was my closest buddy. We served together, did our Marines training together. You get through that, it makes a lifelong bond, I’ll tell you. Afterward, when we got out, we both set up in Vegas together. Opposite ends of the strip. He did all the paperwork for both of us. I did all his interior decoration and recruiting as well as my own, at first, anyway. Declan’s club is targeted at elite service personnel. Rowdier than my club. Takes more money, too, but I wouldn’t swap with him. We were like that, though. Kind of opposites, I guess. He paid the Fobbit’s gouge when he started up, but that’s all I know about connections between them. Like I said.” His arm slips easily around me. Damn, I could get way too comfortable here. I snuggle into his chest. “Probably a dead end.”

  Now I’m too cozy, and the urge to confide in him is too tempting. I think about getting up. But telling him some of the story is a more attractive proposition.

  “I came here, to Vegas, because my daddy talked about your club. He told me it was where the good people go when they need to get bad things done.” I look up into his eyes, “Would you say that was true?”

  His eyebrows raise. “It’s not a description I would choose and it’s kind of a pinhole view, but I can’t say it isn’t true.”

  “When Daddy said it, I liked the idea of a club where good people went. I think that’s what drew me more than anything.” I look in his eyes. “I’m a sucker for a fairytale. It’s not a secret. But I’m not dumb. Okay?”

  He squeezes me and I feel like on some level, we really do know each other. It’s not the first time I’ve had that feeling, and it makes me nervous.

  “Anyway, when Daddy was killed, I had to get away, and the club was the place I thought to go. Probably dumb.”

  He squeezes again. “I’m glad you did.”

  I look back at him. “Really?”

  “With some reservations, maybe.”

  I punch his ribs. Damned ox hurts my hand and all he does is smirk.