Las Vegas: Scandals: Prince Charming for 1 Night

His hot breath puffed over her skin, his wet tongue grazed her flesh as he bent to his task. Her nipples spiraled harder. Achy coils of desire tightened around her center.

He made quick work of the bows. Clever man. The corset slid to the floor. On impulse, she unclasped her G-string and let it slither off, too. She wanted to be completely naked for him.

His expression was pure sin as his gaze caressed her.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he whispered.

Still up on her knees, she bent forward, offering him her breasts. She wanted to feel his mouth on her. He latched on like a hungry babe, suckling one then the other, until she was panting with need.

With a groan, she pulled herself away. “Any more and I’ll come,” she murmured.

“Do it,” he urged. “I want to see you come apart for me again.”

“Not here.” She eased out a shuddering breath.

He blinked and glanced around, as though he’d completely forgotten where they were. He’d dug his fingers deep into the divan back, holding on to the cushions with a death grip, but now he eased them off and flexed them. “God. You’re right. What was I thinking?” He nuzzled his lips against her throat. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I still have another show.”

“Forget it. You’re coming home with me.” He stood up, sweeping her into his arms. “Now.”

She didn’t protest, other than to insist on picking up her discarded costume and his jacket and tie. He and Lecherous Lou seemed to have some kind of understanding. Hopefully she wouldn’t lose her job over this.

Not that it would change her mind if she did. She was ready to be his. In every way. More than ready.

Conner drove like a madman, making the trip to his house in less than twelve minutes. He didn’t want to waste a single second. He wanted to be inside her, now, finding release for this volcano of desire roiling inside his body.

Before leaving the club, he’d allowed her to slip back into her pencil skirt, peasant blouse and do-me shoes, but nothing else. He could see her tawny nipples through the almost-sheer fabric of the blouse. He was dying. He needed her under him.

As soon as they got inside the door of his mansion, he had her up against the wall, his mouth to her breast. She moaned, clasping his head in her hands, pulling him closer.

“Conner,” she pleaded, her voice strangled, writhing against the wall as he ground the silk blouse onto her nipple with his wet tongue.

“I’m here, baby.” He threw aside his jacket and practically ripped the buttons from his shirt, ridding himself of it. She lifted her shirt up over her ample breasts, baring them for him. They were breasts a man could lose himself in. Soft, round, full. Perfect.

He could smell the feminine scent of her desire, lightly musky and spicy, an alluring aphrodisiac that made him twitch in an agony of want.

With a growl, he banded his arms around her and carried her into the living room, swept the things off a low coffee table, and lowered her onto her back on it. Wrenching her legs apart, he tasted her, covering her with his mouth and tongue.

She gasped, arched and splintered apart. So fast he didn’t have time to enjoy it. So he did it again.

When he finally climbed up on the table and lowered himself on top of her, she was totally wrung out and he was ready to detonate. He grasped under her knees and spread them.

“Protection?” she managed to murmur.

“Taken care of,” he told her. Thank God he’d tucked a few condoms in his trouser pocket. Just in case.

“Mmm.”

He thrust into her. The feel of her hot flesh surrounding him burst through his consciousness like a kaleidoscope of erotic sensation. He froze. If he moved a muscle he’d be lost. She held him tight, her chest expanding and contracting against him. It wasn’t helping. He groaned.

“Conner?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Is anything wrong?”

“Other than me being about to shame myself and totally ruin my macho reputation?”

She let out a surprised laugh. Her muscles contracted around him.

Jeez-uz.

“Baby, have mercy,” he begged.

Her eyes softened, joy suffusing her whole face. She was so lovely his breath caught in his lungs. Was it really possible he had done that to her? Made her so happy she glowed with it?

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

So he did. Long and wet and thorough as a spring downpour in the Mojave. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held him tight and used her heels on his backside to push him deep, deep, deep into her. So deep he found he couldn’t hold back.

“It’s okay. Let yourself go,” she whispered into his mouth, her voice low and thready with emotion.

He shuddered, fighting it. Not wanting it to be over so quickly. “Too soon,” he gritted out.

“We have all night,” she refuted breathily.

Which was a good thing, because he had no more strength to resist.

An overwhelming surge of pleasure crashed over him. And he surrendered. Surrendered to the carnal bliss. Surrendered to the emotional rightness. Surrendered to the deep inner knowledge that after this night, he would never be the same man again.

This was just the beginning.

Chapter 12

“No, Dad. Because I don’t—” Speaking on the phone, Conner did not look like a happy camper. In fact, he looked downright angry. “What about Mike? Why can’t he—”

Vera wrapped the silk robe Conner’d lent her a bit tighter around her body and sank a bit deeper into the leather recliner she was curled into, trying to make herself invisible. They were in his study while he’d put out a fire or two at work. This didn’t sound like work, though.

“Yes, Dad. Of course I am. But—”

They’d made love all night. And all morning. And half the afternoon. They’d shared passions and done things together she’d never done with another human being. He’d claimed her body; she’d given him her heart and her soul.

But she still felt like a trespasser in his world.

“Fine, Dad. Yes, I understand.” He slammed the phone down with a curse, a scowl etched on his face.

She didn’t dare ask him what was wrong. Not her place.