Page 149 of Menace in Vegas

I crawl over her slowly, the ceiling fan swirling overhead while the tension wraps tighter around us.

Her skin sticks to mine, damp and desperate. Her chest rises fast, her eyes wide and blown, her wild hair splayed across the pillow like a storm.

She tries to glare at me but fails.

Her body already arches for me, begging without words.

I kiss down her throat, across her chest, tasting everything. “You’re burning up, sweetheart.”

She fists my hair, tugging so hard I groan. “Then fix it.”

Oh, I plan to.

But I’m going to torment her in the process.

I take my time.

My mouth and hands don’t rush. They explore. Teasing and devouring every inch of her until she’s writhing beneath me, cursing and begging for more.

I kiss her—slow, deep, claiming.

She opens for me like a prayer.

My hands roam every inch of her slick skin.

She’s trembling now. Moaning.

When I suck a nipple into my mouth and roll my tongue, she cries out, her fingers clawing at my back.

“Connor.” It’s a plea. A command. A broken devotion.

“Shh,” I rasp. “I’ve got you.”

My hand slides between her thighs. She’s soaked. Hot. Pulsing just for me.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I murmur, slipping a finger inside and curling it.

Her hips jerk. Her head hits the pillow.

I add another finger, slowly tormenting her.

She grips the headboard like she’s going to break it. Her mouth falls open as I fuck her with my fingers, watching her unravel.

“Connor, please?—”

I pull away, ignoring her cry of frustration, and settle between her thighs.

“You want it?” I ask, teasing her with the head of my cock.

Her eyes are wild. “God, yes. I need you.”

That’s all I need.

I slam into her in one thrust, burying myself to the hilt.

She gasps—no, she sobs my name—and wraps her legs around me like she’ll never let go.

I still, barely hanging onto my control.

---