Vegas Vacation (Destination Desire)

by Crystal Jordan

  He thrust his fingers into her, deeper, then withdrew slowly, only to fill her again. Everything in her focused on what he was doing between her legs, and she could feel the building storm of orgasm gathering low in her belly. She moved her hips faster, trying to push herself over the edge. He hooked his fingers inside her, rubbing over her G-spot and it was as if a jolt of electricity speared through her loins. Her back bowed, her inner muscles fisted around his digits, and she bit his chest through his shirt.

  He grunted, slipping his hand away from her. “I need to be inside you.”

  “But I’m so close,” she objected. Her body screamed a protest at being denied what it craved so much. Her fingers bunched in his shirt, while she arched into him.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get you there again.” He pried her hands free and spun them both, positioning her so her front was pressed against the door. She couldn’t believe she was doing this—it was insane, wild. But hadn’t everything about the last few days been out of character and crazy? First coming to Vegas, then what she was doing in Vegas. Madness. But she didn’t want to stop. Her body was aflame, wanton and ripe for sex. The heavy rasp of his zipper sounded loud in the small room, and she heard the distinct rip of a condom wrapper. She glanced over her shoulder to see him toss the empty package in the trash and then sheath his cock.

  His hands curved over her hips, drawing them back until they met his. She braced her palms against the door as he rubbed the head of his cock up and down her slit. Her chest tightened with excitement until she could barely draw a breath. “Please, Finn!”

  He groaned, pushing the first inch into her. He filled her so slowly she wanted to scream. Her body demanded fast and hard. Shoving her ass back, she took him deep in one swift thrust. They both groaned, and the sound echoed. He was so wide, he stretched her to the limit. It was almost painful, but she was so wet, it made the glide totally erotic.

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  The high pleading in her own voice shocked her. Who was this woman who sobbed and begged for more from her lover? She cut loose during sex, sure, but this was far beyond anything she normally did. They were in a public restroom, for God’s sake. Turning her head, she caught sight of them in the wide mirror over the sink. Her face was flushed, her eyes glassy with lust, her lips parted as she panted. It was somewhat frightening to see herself that way, almost at the edge of feral. But it was scintillating too. The conflicting emotions became tangled with the need that Finn lit inside her. Her gaze moved to his reflection, and the desperation on his face reminded her of how he had looked the night before. His muscles flexed as he filled her, his cock shoving deep with each push into her sex. He was a man who held nothing back, and didn’t allow her to hold back either.

  He reached an arm around her, his hand diving between her thighs to toy with her clit. All thought of their reflections dissipated as she focused on what he was doing to her body. He flicked his nail over that sensitive bundle of nerves, and she jerked in response. Her channel clenched around him, and she moaned, her eyes sliding shut so she could experience every single second of what he offered. His fingers teased her slick flesh, his cock pistoning in and out of her, stretching her with each pass until her legs threatened to give out. It was too much, too good, and she was moments away from orgasm.

  “Finn, I’m going to—”

  “Come,” he ordered, pinching her clit to guarantee she obeyed.

  A high-pitched cry escaped her as her pussy clamped tight around him. He slammed deep, rotating his pelvis against her backside and a guttural groan escaped him as he joined her in climax. He pumped his cock into her, riding her through both of their orgasms. Prickles broke down her limbs and she shuddered with every wave that rolled over her, her sex squeezing again and again.

  Her knees gave way, and he caught her securely against his broad chest. “I’ve got you, Meg. It’s all right.”

  When was the last time she’d felt so utterly safe with a man? Never. Her mom had felt safe with her dad and that had been one big lie, hadn’t it? There was no safety in what Finn offered her—there was only lust and the rush of endorphins that made her want to believe what wasn’t there. Finn might say he wanted to date her, to have something permanent with her, but she knew it wasn’t true. Stiffening her legs, she forced herself to step away from him. She pulled her panties up and pushed her skirt down. She was uncomfortably wet, but she doubted anyone would be able to tell by looking at her.

  He walked to the sink, cleaned himself up, and refastened his pants. “Are you all right?”

  The edge of concern in his voice made her look up. She offered a weak smile. “Yes. I’ve…um…never done it in a public place before. It’s just not like me.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted from this week? A little adventure before we go back to being staid old teachers?” There was absolutely no inflection to his words, so the admonishment she heard was nothing more than the bite of her own conscience.

  Lifting her chin, she held his gaze. “Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted.”

  “Then you got it.” His wave encompassed the small room. Then he met her gaze. “Ready to eat?”

  “Eat?” Her eyebrows arched.

  “Yes, lunch. You wore me out, sweetheart. I’m famished. If you want me to keep going at your insatiable pace, you’re going to need to let me carb up.”

  A blush burned its way up her cheeks, but she ignored it. “Well, then, let’s get you fed. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you fainting under all the strain.”

  “Guys don’t faint.” He tossed a paper towel into the trash, then reached around her to open the door. “After you.”

  “Men can faint as much as women can. There’s no gender bias to losing consciousness.”

  “Sure, but guys don’t faint.” He made the word sound foul. “They black out or pass out.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to have insulted your masculinity.”

  Looping an arm around her shoulders, he pressed a kiss to her temple, then whispered in her ear. “Good, you can make it up to my masculinity later. On your knees with a little begging thrown in should do it.”

  She huffed, elbowing him in the ribs. “Maybe you’ll be the one begging.”

  “Oh, even better.” He all but purred the words and she burst out laughing as they stepped out of the building and into the spring sunshine.

  The Vegas heat wrapped around her—an oppressive blanket that contrasted with the cool coastal breezes she was used to in Half Moon Bay. Everything was different here. Even she was different here, indulging in passions she usually denied. The dry air filled her lungs, and she shook her head. She had no idea if this departure from the norm was a good idea or not, but she had committed herself to the week.

  She wanted to see it through to the end.

  Chapter Seven

  Uneasiness churned in the pit of Meg’s stomach, and had since Finn had suggested over lunch that she give up her room and just stay with him. Who would know? The members of their group were all on different floors and towers of the hotel. Sure, it made sense and would cut costs, but even the thought of moving in with someone for a week brought some ugly memories roaring back. Everything about this affair seemed destined to make the past she’d ruthlessly suppressed return to haunt her.

  She’d refused his offer as politely as she could, and he’d let the topic go, but she could tell he wasn’t happy. Stepping into her room now, she felt a disproportionate sense of relief that she had somewhere to retreat. There was no need to be this glad about having her own space, but she didn’t have time to dwell. She had to change for the evening out with the rest of their party—dinner and a show. Well, the women and Finn were going to a show, the rest of the men were taking in a heavyweight boxing match after dinner. Yay, bloodshed. Just what she liked for dessert.

  Stripping off the day dress she’d been wearing, she opened her closet for one of the two fancier dresses she’d brought with her. One was short, strapless
and studded with silver sequins. Definitely the sexier of the two options. The other was fitted, knee-length navy-blue satin. Much more modest. She wavered for a few minutes before she grabbed the short and sexy one.

  She slung it across the bed and headed into the bathroom to put on makeup, jewelry, and straighten her hair until it lay in a silky sheet down her back. It was more care than she’d taken on her appearance for her last three dates combined. She made a face at herself in the mirror.

  Yeah, so maybe she wanted to look good for Finn. Even if this affair made her feel a little out of control, she still couldn’t help but want him to find her attractive. Beautiful and irresistible would be nice, too. Not that he’d ever acted as if he found her anything but. However, the feminine side of her liked being wanted as much as any other woman.

  After slipping on a pair of silver hoops, she tilted her head to make them catch the light and sparkle. Nice. Her phone rang and she flicked off the light switch in the bathroom before hurrying over to get the call. It was Karen.

  She tapped the screen to answer. “Hi, hon. What’s up?”

  “Hello, Meg!” Karen’s words lilted through the phone. “You’re on speakerphone. I’ve got Anne and Julie here with me.”

  “The whole posse.” Meg couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips. No matter how off-kilter she felt, her friends would always ground her. “How’s everyone doing?”

  A snort answered that. “Your dog ate Tate’s shorts. He’s offended.”

  Meg smothered a laugh. “Sorry about that. I’ll replace them.”

  “Oh no. You don’t need to do that. Tate can afford to buy new ones.” Karen’s voice shook with hilarity. “It was worth seeing the look on his face when he came out of the bedroom dangling his shredded boxers off one finger and looking at Hugo like he was the devil incarnate.”

  “Poor Hugo.” He’d probably been even more mopey and depressive after someone had given him a nasty glare. The mutt was beyond sensitive.

  “I love how none of us feel bad for Tate or his undies,” Julie piped up.

  “Pfft.” Anne huffed. “Tate will be fine, but Hugo is always about half a second away from suicidal tendencies.”

  “So true.” Meg wandered over to her suitcase, dug out the high heels she wanted to wear, and slipped them on. “Anne, how’s Cami doing?”

  “Cami’s fine,” said Anne. “I told her she needed to take a break for a couple of days. She’s more upset about missing extra work hours over spring break than anything else.”

  “That sounds like her. She’s such a little workaholic.” The kid had been laser-focused even when she was in elementary school and Meg had babysat her. If she was worrying about getting work done, then she really was okay. It set Meg’s mind at ease.

  “Exactly,” Julie interjected. “So, she’s fine. Mrs. Kirby is still milking the drama, of course, but everything is basically back to normal.”

  Anne groaned. “Don’t even get me started on the drama llama mama.”

  Laughter echoed through the phone, then Karen asked, “How’s Vegas? Do anything buck wild? Get a tattoo? Pay for a lap dance? Buy a gigolo?”

  “None of those options.” Meg snorted. She picked up her dress and worked it over her head, pulling the phone away from her ear for a moment. “I’m not that wild.”

  Anne’s voice turned coy. “Oh, come on. You have to have done something to pass the time.”

  “I went to a museum today. Did some shopping with you yesterday. Checked out the Bellagio fountains last night after you left.” Then let the hottest man alive shag her brains out, but she kept that to herself. She wasn’t ready or willing to talk about that, not even to her best friends, and Anne could only guess or assume what she might be up to this week. Unless Finn ratted her out—in which case, he had a slow and painful death ahead of him. “All right, girls, I have to go meet the drunk bunch for dinner. Then we’re off to that Cirque du Soleil show, Kà.”

  “Oh, that’s so cool!” Julie exclaimed. “Let us know how it is.”

  “Please, I was going to get to see to a heavyweight fight tonight, but now I’m missing it.” Anne’s words fell somewhere been plaintive and whining.

  “You could always fly back,” Karen suggested.

  “Nah. I’d have already missed the match, it would be expensive to do two roundtrip flights, and someone has to stay here and make sure Cami doesn’t sneak into work. God knows my mom would cave inside of thirty seconds.” Anne huffed out an annoyed breath. “Megs, I hope you have a good time and that you manage to cut loose and do something crazy.”

  “I’m sure I’ll have a great time.” Meg resisted the urge to spill her guts about Finn. Maybe when it was over she’d be able to dish about this affair, but not now. “Night!”

  “Bye, Meg!” Her friends echoed before they hung up.

  The lies she told them ate at her. Lies of omission were just as bad as the boldface variety. You still always looked over your shoulder to wonder if anyone else was telling the truth behind your back. She hadn’t told them everything about Brandon and Regina, and now she wasn’t telling them about Finn. These women—these friends—had been with her for so long, and they knew everything else about her. They’d been with her when her parents broke up. They’d been with her when she’d sweated over SATs, college finals, grad school applications. They had specifics about every date she’d ever been on. They knew who’d been her first, her worst, who she’d loved and hated to lose. Everything. Except this.

  Two secrets weren’t so bad, but when you had the kind of friends who were always in your life and business, who told you the good and the bad and loved you no matter what you did, it was hard to hold back those details. Only guilt could do it. Guilt, shame, fear. It was too painful to divulge.

  They would understand, but it would hurt them to know she hadn’t trusted them. It would hurt her if any of them did the same to her.

  She hated that.

  The group had descended on the buffet at the Bellagio, which offered up five-star dining in an all-you-can-eat format. Pure evil, to Finn’s way of thinking. He wandered around the various serving stations, loading his tray with far too many samples of amazing cuisine. Beef Wellington, fresh steamed lobster, chicken cordon bleu, filet mignon, roasted duck. And those were just for the main course. He had his eye on the dessert station, where he could see dishes of tiramisu, caramelized pears, cream puffs, bananas foster, and crème brûlée.

  He couldn’t decide what to go for first, and knew he was going to need to hit the hotel gym to work this meal off. Or go about fifty rounds on the mattress with Meg. He liked that option better, but figured the gym was still in his near future. His job demanded that he stay in shape if he wanted to keep up with rambunctious tweens, but he preferred exercising in the outdoors over slogging it out in a stuffy gym.

  Winding his way back through the many tables and booths, he found his group, who seemed slightly more sober tonight. Though there were four open bottles of wine on the table, so he wasn’t sure how long the sobriety would last. Ah, well. The more hazed with booze their memories were, the less likely they were to take note of anything he was doing with Meg.

  He had to check the impulse to smile at her like an infatuated idiot as he sat down next to her. Seeing her with straight hair was a shock, but so was the tiny excuse for a dress she wore. It was damn hard not to reach out and stroke his hand over all that bare skin or run his fingers through her locks just to see how it would feel. But he managed to resist. Their colleagues would definitely notice right now, and he only had two rules he had to follow with her: discretion and deadline. He hoped to get rid of the second one, but the first one he agreed with. There was no reason to encourage uncomfortable questions and office gossip. He might not share her virulent horror of it, but he’d avoid it if he could.

  So, he shifted his focus to Doreen, who sat across from him. “How was the strip club? Come out of there with any dollar bills left?”

  “Not one.” She g
rinned. “Thanks for asking.”

  “Lucky guys.” He winked at her, making her giggle and flap a hand at him. The woman was twice his age, married with kids in college, so she loved when he flirted with her but wouldn’t take it seriously.

  Cindy leaned in from the end of the table. “There was one guy there… Meg, you should have seen him. We were taking bets on whether he’d had some kind of pec implants. No guy’s chest could be that big without some help.”

  “And his jewels weren’t shriveled enough for him to be on steroids.” Carla propped her elbow next to her plate, finishing off a glass of red wine. “I’ve seen guys who juice and it’s not pretty.”

  So had Finn, and he had to agree. Not that he spent much time staring at other men’s junk, but he’d been in enough locker rooms after high school and college sporting events to have an idea of who was juicing and who wasn’t. Some hid it better than others though.

  Meg shrugged, forking a piece of fruit into her mouth. “Well, cosmetic surgery is on the rise for men.”

  Wait. They’d been serious about the implants comment? “They give men breast implants?”

  The question was out of Finn’s mouth before he could stop it. Bad move, Walsh. He was going to regret his incredulity, he could tell.

  Four women turned to stare at him with varying degrees of hostility. Cindy crossed her arms. “What, women are the only ones who might have to get implants to improve their tips?”

  Carla narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits. “Men shouldn’t feel the same societal pressure that women do to be better looking?”

  “Or to fight the aging process?” Doreen jutted a chin that had begun to soften and sag. The wounded look she gave him suggested the ills of society and men rested solely on his shoulders, and that he had a lot of explaining to do.