by Ella Brooke
Nodding briskly, I sat down at the other plush bench and then picked up her left hand and brought the back of it to my lips. Giving it a soft kiss, I set her hand on the table. “Well, it’s lovely to see you again, my siren.”
She frowned, a gesture that quirked the lines on her face to enhance the allure of the beauty mark over her left upper lip. Seriously, Bella couldn’t hold a candle to how hot Savannah looked tonight. “Siren? Like for a fire truck? Color me confused.”
Shaking my head, I picked up the menu, even though I’d long since memorized the whole thing. Force of habit mixed with a desire to have something to do with my hands. “A story from Greek myth. The sirens were singers with voices so enchanting they could cast spells over any sailors who neared their island. They were a bit on the cunning and tricky side. I doubt you’re that.”
“I’m not.” A blush colored her cheeks and made me want to lick them.
“But you do have a voice that could leave a man begging, siren. So, how are you?”
“After that praise, how can I not feel good?” She frowned and opened up her menu too. “Actually, maybe not the luring sailors part, but I try and do my best with my singing.”
“You’re fantastic. Heard that number in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and in Moulin Rouge, but you blow both renditions of ‘Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend’ away.”
She frowned but didn’t speak to me directly. The waiter had come by, and she put in an order for the sashimi platter with him. I asked for urchin and the flaming devil rolls. When he’d left, Savannah focused her attention on me, and I realized I could stare into those eyes of hers forever. Dangerous territory for me.
And then the idea of her ability to strand men on the ocean floor and beach their ships with her song didn’t seem quite so funny anymore.
Savannah was definitely doing her best to ensnare me, and it was working.
“Mhmm,” she finally added.
“What?”
“No offense, but your sports-betting, super bachelor lifestyle doesn’t really match with a guy who’s into musicals.”
“I’m not immune to brunettes though.” I winked and set my menu down. “My late wife, Penelope, loved all types of musicals. On quiet nights at home, we’d switch off, you know? I’d make us watch Die Hard or Terminator, and she’d pull out something like Chicago or Les Miserables.
Savannah laughed, the sound so clean and bright. And addictive. I could have listened to the joy reflected in it all damn night. “I’m sorry you had to watch the movie of Les Mis. The play’s amazing, but Russell Crowe can’t sing for crap, and no amount of auto-tune was ever going to fix that.”
My heart swelled at that. It felt familiar. “Penelope always was like that.”
“Like what?” Savannah crinkled up her nose at me. It was adorable and also served to make my dick rock hard under the table.
“She had very firm opinions on movie musical casting that I never understood.”
“Of course, but that’s neat. I just…I’ve always loved music and theater. In fact…” She stopped then, clamping her mouth shut suddenly and looking down at the table.
“What?” I pressed.
Her nails clacked an uneasy beat against the wood. “Nothing.”
“No, you were definitely thinking something.”
“I just love Broadway. I always wanted to be there. You know? Perform in front of a real audience.”
“So, I wasn’t real enough last night?” I arched an eyebrow at her. “The VIPs and audience at The Bacchanal each night aren’t flesh and blood either?”
“It’s just not what I thought I’d be doing. I’m getting closer to thirty.” She blanched. “Well, I’m almost twenty-eight.”
“Positively ancient. Why don’t you just get a walker and half a dozen cats now.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that time seems to be flying by on me, and I do appreciate the job I have even if Alan’s an ass.”
“Who again?”
“That emcee with the purple contacts.”
I snorted. His shtick was hard enough to take as an audience member for two hours at a time. Nope, I didn’t envy Savannah for having to work with that dick daily. “I see.”
“Exactly, and most people can’t make a business in the art they love at all. I get that, but some days I just feel like Broadway is passing me by. If I didn’t have so much going on, I would go out to New York tomorrow.”
“What else is on your mind then, Savannah?”
She sighed and breathed a seeming sigh of relief as the food was set down before us. “That’s definitely not a first date question.”
“Ooh,” I said, digging into my urchin. “That’s a good sign for me.”
“Because you’re nosy?”
“Because you think there will be a second date.”
“Maybe.” Using chopsticks, she brought a thick piece of raw salmon to her lips. “It’s not bad so far.”
“Gee, imagine how flattering that sounds. I think I can do better than that. You mentioned you liked Moulin Rouge?”
***
Savannah
My breath caught in my throat even as Ryker draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. He smelled of cinnamon, sandalwood, and a hint of Scotch. Wild and beautiful. Some small voice in the back of my brain also screamed that he smelled like he was mine. That was a dumb thing to even start thinking. A dangerous thing because of his reputation. But curled up against him on the viewing deck of the Eiffel Tower in the Parisian hotel, it almost seemed possible, like we could connect on a deeper level.
Except notorious womanizers who date a new model every week don’t do deeper.
He had once, but it was clear from our conversation over dinner that Ryker still missed his wife. Any other woman would never hold a candle to her, never come close. Probably why he was usually with a new woman every weekend. It was too hard to find the right one since he’d already had her. I was a distraction, nothing more.
I had to remember that.
This was just to try and put some distance from me and Samson, to have one great romantic story for my latter years. It was my wild memory, not my forever connection. As long as I treated this like the fun fling that could end any minute—and it very well could—then I was going to survive this, not end up with my heart shattered into a million pieces again.
But it was still hard not to be swept up in anything. Below us, the view was amazing. The lights of the strip illuminated the night, and the huge letters of Planet Hollywood shone back at us as did the green lights of the MGM Grand beyond that. Traffic seemed to crawl by beneath us like micro machines or matchbox cars. So very small. And everywhere the city glimmered like diamonds.
Pretty, even though underneath there was a seedy underside to Vegas. One I knew too well.
“Are you okay, siren? You don’t seem like the speechless type. Haven’t been so far.”
I nuzzled in closer to him, relishing that cinnamon scent. “I think I’m supposed to take this as a compliment.”
He leaned down and kissed me; my dreams hadn’t come close to the reality. The edge of his scruff scratched at my chin tantalizingly, and his lips were soft against mine, tasting of Scotch from dinner and also of the sweetness of the red bean ice cream we’d shared. His strong hands gripped my shoulders, and the heat of his body warmed my own even as the breeze passed over us.
Perfection.
At least for tonight.
“You should though. I haven’t met many people as interesting as you. But you’re thoughtful now. I know the view can be a lot. I showed my son Ian this a year ago, and he didn’t stop talking about how cool it was for weeks.”
I quirked my head at him. That was something I hadn’t expected. I knew that he’d had a wife. My tabloid digging before our date hadn’t revealed he had a son. “You have a kid?”
He nodded and stroked my hair. “Yes, Ian. He’s my whole world. I guess that might be a deal breaker. Some women
aren’t looking for something extra.”
“Well, this is for fun, isn’t it? It’s just the first date.”
“You said there’d be a second.”
Grinning, I kissed him again, loving the way his tongue stroked over my own. After a time, we separated, and I went back to leaning against him so I could see the view. “Only if you want to. I don’t want to be a drag on your swinging lifestyle.”
“Tomorrow? Would that work?”
“No, I have a show. I was off today because the theater had some repairs OSHA made them do. I’ll let you know what works. My schedule is pretty nuts. But no, a kid’s not a deal breaker at all. It makes you even sexier.”
“Does it now?” His voice was a low rumble in his chest, and my clit started to throb all over. Everything about Ryker was sex personified. It was no wonder I was falling so fast for him. Who wouldn’t?
“Yes. I know how it is to have someone depending on you, how hard it is. My sister is four years younger than I am, and we’ve been on our own since I was eighteen. Our mom wasn’t the greatest, let’s leave it at that.”
He drew me even closer to him, as if he could save me from past traumas. I appreciated that. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s over now. I mean, Mary’s responsible now and grown, but for a while, yeah, I was raising her. I think it’s amazing how you’re working so hard—have to be—now that you’re on your own. Besides, any woman who’d run just because you have a kid so isn’t worth your time.”
He laughed. “My brother and I had a bit of a fight about that recently.”
“Good, then you’re right and your brother is a moron.”
“I knew you had good tastes and instincts, siren.”
“Damn straight,” I said, giggling. Man, I was never the type of girl to giggle, but he brought that side out of me, that playfulness that had seemed deadened by endless shows I had to get through on my contract. “I’ve just never seen a view like this. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to see Paris like this, see the city and the park from the real tower.”
“It makes this seem like the imitation it is.”
I looked up at him, at those blue depths that probably melted the panties of every woman in Vegas. They were doing a good job making me wet and desperate for him. God, what is happening to me? It had been awhile since Samson, and so very painful, but now Ryker had me dreaming about him and practically begging for him, and all we’d done was share a few kisses. It wasn’t just that he was hot or surprisingly sweet. Those things were great, of course. No, it was that there was something about last night, about that dance together, that had ignited a fire between us. One of passion. One that raged in my blood and bones even as I stood curled up in his arms.
“I would love to see it someday. Have you been to Paris often?”
“More times than I can count on business. But it’s a marvel, a place you never grow tired of or can completely experience. I find something new and amazing every time I go.”
“Sounds amazing. Having to take care of Mary and now with how strict my contract is…I basically have never been anywhere but Vegas.”
“One day, I hope you can change that.” He kissed my lips and rubbed my right side. “It’s actually getting chilly with the breeze. Do you want me to drive you home? I’ll be more than happy to.”
“I’d like that very much.” I didn’t want to mention it’d save me an Uber since my sister had taken our car for her shift tonight at the pawn shop. Saving money was always key in a place where rent ran as high as Vegas.
We hurried down the elevator to the limo, and I smiled politely for his driver who opened the door for me. I slid over the leather seats and gaped at the setup inside. It was lit up on the floor like a theater or elevator with a thin blue strip of neon lighting. There was a TV and entertainment system in one corner. In another was a complete mini bar. All of it was gorgeous, and I couldn’t even imagine how much it cost. The only limo I’d ever seen the inside of was that scene in that old Tom Hanks movie Big, so it barely counted as “seeing a limo,” and besides, things were a lot more plush now that it wasn’t the 1980s.
“Is everything you do and plan amazing?” I asked, my voice breathless.
Ryker grinned, a mischievous smirk that was probably an illegal look in most states. It could definitely get a good girl to agree to anything. If he aimed it my way for much longer, I’d volunteer for anything he suggested. He was my Kryptonite. “I try. I love to pride myself on showing a lady a good time. I take it a limo ride is very new too.”
“Yes, not that if you’d just taken me to a hot dog cart and walked down the strip I wouldn’t have appreciated it. I don’t want to seem shallow, but this is really nice. It felt special, and it’s honestly been so long since I felt that way.” Sighing, I leaned back in the soft leather seat.
He reached over and rested a large hand over my right knee. “I hear something there in your voice. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s had bad luck in love.”
“We’ve all had our bad times. History’s in the past.” My voice struggled to stay even. It’s what I wanted to do, try and pretend I’d moved on. But it was hard to forget or let what Samson had done to me not dominate my thoughts. His betrayal had run so deep.
Still, that was the last thing I ever wanted to discuss with Ryker. So the brave act it was, whether I was able to fully sell it or not.
“Yes, but I want you to know this isn’t…whatever we do tonight…it’s more than my regular night on the town.” His jaw clenched under his delicious stubble, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “You’re not just anyone, Savannah, and I need you to know that. That you better call me because I want another date.” He kissed me, his tongue swirling and twisting with mine. When he spoke again, his words sent my heart flaring with warmth. “And I’ll want another. Don’t doubt that now, siren, you’re mine.”
Words ended then. Words were too small for all we wanted and all we craved together. Instead, Ryker twisted in his seat, angling himself so that he could push the hem of my dress up and over my hips. His fingers found the black lace of my panties—a sexy number that my sister had gotten me last Christmas as a gag gift but ones I was grateful for now—and he stroked me through the soaked fabric. My body flared with heat every time his knuckles stroked against my labia. I moaned and then flashed a worried glance at the partition between us and the driver.
“Don’t worry,” he said in between kissing my lips and nibbling at my collarbone. “Everything’s thoroughly soundproofed, and Jameson is paid to be discreet anyway.”
I forced my mind not to dwell on how he knew about the level of Jameson’s discretion or why he had a soundproof limo to start with. Those other women in the last few years were gone, hadn’t lasted. We had right now, and we were both going to make the most of it. I was going to make the most of it.
Ryker didn’t say anything after that. He focused exclusively on me, on suckling at the thin stretch of my collarbone, on threading his free hand through my hair, and on slipping two thick fingers around the lace of my panties and into my core.
I screamed again, too blissed out to care if Jameson and all of the strip heard me too. My hips bucked up, and I hoped I was giving him as much access as he needed to reach my inner channel, to finger me exactly as he needed.
Ryker stroked me fast, his fingers pumping in and out of me in a ferocious rhythm. My clit thrummed and pulsed in time with his ministrations; the waves of pleasure started cresting through me, lanced out from my belly, and then rolled lazily over my entire body. That pleasure filled every nerve, left me feeling like I was high—could do anything I wanted.
But all I wanted was to feel Ryker all over me.
He pressed his thumb against my clit, that most sensitive nub of nerves under my mons, and I howled with delight. Ryker rubbed hard against it clockwise, even as his fingers plumbed my depths, even as he thrust harder and deeper than I’d thought he could with every stroke.
Shouting again
, I gripped his shoulder and squeezed hard. Then he found my sweetest spot, and the waves of pleasure crescendoed over me as a tsunami, sweeping me away with them. I screamed and screamed until my voice was hoarse, until my limbs were jelly, until I fell haplessly back on the seat. I’d never felt anything like that.
Ever.
I barely had an idea of where I was, as if I could float off into space at any time with that pleasure surging through me. Only those intense arctic eyes of his kept my head on straight, kept me moored in the here and now. I was here in the limo with Ryker Eden.
And I never wanted to leave.
Chapter Six
Savannah
One week later
Shit.
Double, triple…just fucking goddamn shit. I’d messed up the choreography, badly. Over three hundred shows with The Bacchanal, and I’d never missed so much as a beat. Then, I’d been in the middle of the lap dance part for a VIP I’d pulled up, and my mind had blanked. There’d been nothing objectively wrong with the guy. He was bald and portly, but he was a paying customer and one of the bigger whales, i.e. high rolling gamblers, in Vegas. He’d been to our show more than once even. But there he’d been sitting under me, and I’d blanked, just sitting there for several bars of the music before I knew what to do. Granted, someone like Tyson Taylor, the big spender, wouldn’t have minded a few extra beats (okay more) with me on his lap. But Alan would know.
The emcee was also the owner and choreographer for The Bacchanal. The whole project wasn’t just his meal ticket, it was also his baby.
As I sat down shakily at my seat, I had to keep myself breathing, had to force myself to get freshened up for the VIP cocktail party after the show. As far as the audience knew, the Green Fairy had performed the way she was supposed to. I had to keep up that flawless façade for the rest of the night, even if I felt like crumbling. Damn it. I’d been thinking of Ryker, and a flash of our dance had invaded my mind with Mr. Taylor in front of me. I’d frozen, and then I’d ended up fucking up.
I was halfway through scrubbing off my makeup. Crying on the way to my green room had made my eyes go full on raccoon from where my eyeliner had smudged itself. A bit of makeup 911 was exactly what my persona needed. Besides, the action focused me, kept me from panicking more. I had my concealer in my hand and was applying it to my dark spots when Alan slithered in.