by Alexa Keith
“Lick me, baby,” her yearning-filled husky voice commanded.
She had a voice that would make many men cream in their pants. For me though, it was like nails on a chalkboard.
I gazed at the silky smooth pussy and didn’t feel a thing. My cock didn’t jump to attention, my heart didn’t race, and my mind didn’t travel to all the nasty things I could do to her. I felt nothing. Perhaps, it was a side effect of all the alcohol I had consumed.
Out of camera shot, a vibrating dildo was tossed onto the floor, and I reached for it. I spit on her soaking wet folds and inserted the purple molded dick. I rammed it all the way in, triggering her hips to come off the couch.
“Yes!” she screamed. “Fuck me.”
And I did.
I stroked my soft cock inside my boxers, watching her body devour the dildo, and still, I had zilch. This was something that had continually turned me on before. I loved fuckin’ a woman with an object. Now, it felt as if it was some kind of fuckin’ chore, like taking out the damn garbage. It was like those tasks that needed to be done, and you would robotically do them while fuckin’ hating it in the process.
Shit, tonight’s garbage night.
While this beautiful woman was giving her body over to me to do what I wanted, I was sitting here, comparing fucking her to taking out the garbage.
What in the fuck am I doing?
I hollered, “Cut,” chucking the vibrator onto the couch.
“Again?” Jessica Moor, one of the leading women in the porn industry, cried.
I swiveled my head toward her, glared, and clenched my teeth before I could tell her to fuck off. Jessica was always fun to work with, and I didn’t want to ruin the mutual respect we had for one another.
Therefore, I walked off the set, hearing whispering voices.
Arman said, “Give him a few minutes.”
Slamming the door to my holding room, I stalked over to my bag and snatched my phone out of the little front pocket. I hit the button, and the screen lit up with only the time. It was 11:12 at night. There were no alerts, messages, or voice mails at all. I tossed the phone onto the couch and punched the wall, leaving a hole the size of my fist.
“Fuck…” I bellowed to the empty room.
Picking up the bottle of water off the coffee table, I hurled that against the wall, too. Water splattered off the cream wall, and the creased plastic bottle fell to the floor. I flopped to a spot on the sofa and positioned my elbows on my knees before running my hands through my hair.
Five motherfuckin’ days of nothing.
I hadn’t gotten a returned phone call, voice mail, or text.
Nothing.
All I knew was that one of Marco’s men was watching over her. I’d found this out after I’d seen a huge black man scoop her up and put her in a car that night. I had been ten seconds too late of catching her. If I hadn’t hauled off and punched Arman square in the jaw, I most likely would have caught her.
No, without a doubt, I would have caught her.
I’d lost my fuckin’ mind when I saw that goon snatch her up. As I’d watched the taillights of the car pull away, my phone had chirped. When I had opened the new text message, I’d seen it was from Marco. He explained one of his top men had Kayden, and she would be taken care of. Then, he’d informed me that I’d royally fucked up as he was aware of what had gone down. I hadn’t asked how he’d fuckin’ known that, but he had. The only sensible thought behind that was that his guard dog had seen it all unfold and relayed the horrid scene to Marco. The same scene that was so vividly imprinted in my head.
After I’d found out that she was to a certain extent okay, I had gone back in the house and blown a fuckin’ gasket. I had yelled at everyone, telling them what insensitive bastards they all were. I’d smashed a few glasses while shouting. Chris had tried to calm me down when no one else would approach me which was a bad decision on his part for I had also punched him in his fuckin’ smug face, and I’d broken his nose. Then, I had stormed out and gone home.
I had called Kayden’s phone numerous times, and she never answered. I’d proceeded to pitch whatever was in arm’s length at my TV—except for the bottle of good ole Jack, which had dangled between my fingers. I’d drunkenly packed a bag, intending to go after her. Rocco hadn’t let me get within an inch of the front door. From what he’d told me, I’d tackled him, hollering that she needed me. But he wouldn’t let me leave drunk. He’d told me I needed to sober up first. Well, I’d tried to, but the pain had been so fuckin’ unbearable that I hadn’t been strong enough to face my feelings without Jack.
So, Jack, my phone, my bed, and me became best buds. In addition, the woman at the florist had been forced to listen to my pathetic story more than once.
Going into the third night of Jack rolling sweetly through my veins, I’d stirred from a whiskey-induced sleep with lips wrapped around my cock. I had finally woken up. I’d tossed the no-name blonde woman out of my room. Shortly after, Rocco had stormed in, asking what in the fuck I was doing.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I was lost, and I needed to get my fuckin’ shit together and fast. This wasn’t who Steele Waters was. He didn’t lie around in a drunken stupor, pining for a girl.
Fuck that.
Therefore, it was time to mend fences. I had called Arman first, and apologized, saying that I was fucked up that night. He had taken my apology even though he’d known I was nowhere near drunk. Nevertheless, we’d blown it off and moved forward. Then, I’d contemplated calling a few other people. Honestly, that wouldn’t have been a thought in my pre-Kayden life, but since her, I found this pussy side of me had been coming out.
But I hadn’t called anyone.
Steele Waters needed to float back to the fuckin’ surface.
My thoughts had been cleared when the door slowly opened, and Arman peered in. “Is it safe?”
I didn’t answer. He came in and looked around the room. The frown on his face said he was not happy. “You’re gonna pay for that boy,” Arman stated.
“The fuck I am.”
“Oh, really?” Arman said while folding his arms across his chest. “You cost me a chair three weeks ago and now this.” He tossed one of his hands toward the hole in the wall.
I rummaged through my bag and pulled out jeans and a T-shirt. “Not my fault you buy shit props.”
Exasperated, Arman said, “That was a five-hundred-dollar chair.”
Pulling my jeans up and over my boxer briefs, I replied, “Then, it’s your fault for buying expensive fuckin’ props. If I recall correctly, it wasn’t just me on that chair.”
Arman dragged his hand through his thinning hair, shaking his head, and then a smile played on his lips. “That was one hell of a scene that you and Dee’sire shot that day.”
My phone rang, and I could honestly say that my fuckin’ heart skipped a beat. Since Arman was in the room, I casually reached for it and looked at the display.
Scrunching my brows together in confusion, I answered, “Hello?”
“Mr. Kincaid, I’m so sorry to bother you at this time of night.”
The woman went on to quickly explain the circumstance to me. I listened intently to what she had to say. I didn’t know if my luck was getting better or worse. All I knew was that this might be a call from God. I thanked her and told her that I would get in touch with her when I got into town. I smiled while I hit End, and then I raised my head to look at Arman.
“Vegas,” was all I said.
His puzzled look transformed to a knowing smirk.
“This is gonna fucking rock,” Kemen said from the backseat.
Rocco agreed, “Fuck yeah.”
I smiled as the guys planned out our adventures.
This wasn’t the first time the three of us would be in Vegas together. Last time, they had done the same shit. They had mapped out our whole weekend, yet it never followed through. Once we’d hit the strip, all our plans, worries, and inhibitions had flown right out the window and throug
h the desert with the tumbleweeds.
I used to come to Vegas all the time once I’d moved out to L.A. Vegas had some decent adult film productions companies I still did work for on occasion.
When I was eighteen, I’d moved to live on the strip. I’d known many people in Vegas. I had to live up to a certain level. I’d made a name for myself here. I was treated with the respect a celebrity would get. Kemen and Rocco had soaked up all the VIP treatment we received the last time we came.
Although, this time the trip would be different.
When I had gone home that night after receiving the call, I’d mentioned to Rocco that I had to go out to Vegas for some business, so he’d thrown this mini trip together. Cora and Addie had been sitting there, too, so they’d voted themselves in coming along. Then, they’d brought along Farah. I was not too fuckin’ thrilled with that.
It was time to put the past behind me.
So three days ago, I had stopped trying to contact Kayden.
Am I an ass? Yes.
I could have flown out and tried to repair the damage, but I didn’t think I could handle seeing her. Patty had told me to give her some space, so I did. Kayden never even threw a dog a bone. She hadn’t answered anything I had sent her. It’d started to piss me off. So, somewhere in the past three days, I’d found the old Steele, the guy who didn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything. The old Steel just lived his life by his rules.
And in no way did Steele Waters pine for a fuckin’ girl.
“Ah, Mr. Waters, I was hoping my eyes weren’t deceiving me this morning when I saw your name on our VIP arrivals for today.” Franklin grinned from ear to ear as he made his way around the marble counter toward me.
I took in the beauty of the Bellagio hotel before Franklin advanced. It’d been some time since I’d been to Vegas.
“Franklin, it’s nice to see you.” I shook his hand when he approached us. “Room ready?” I asked.
“Of course, Sir, we have your usual suite ready for you, and also the other suite you had requested is ready too,” Franklin said. Then, he turned to the ogling brown-haired woman behind the counter, and he retrieved the envelope from her unsteady fingers.
I gave her a once-over. She could definitely pass as fuck material, but I would probably scare the shit out of her. She was way too innocent-looking for me.
“Anna…” Franklin snapped his fingers. “Anna…” He called again, and her gaze shuffled to his. “I’m sure you could be doing something else,” he stated.
“Um…yes…yes, sorry, Mr. Ward.” Anna scuffled away, but not before her eyes came back to me.
I winked, and she grinned as she put a hand to her chest before sighing and walking away.
Franklin shook his head with a small smile. “Ready?” he asked the group.
“You betcha, Frankie,” Rocco said, patting Franklin on the back as we started to follow him.
“Mr. Rocco, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Franklin said as we drew near the elevators.
Rocco halted. “You remember me?” he asked in surprise.
“Of course. It’s not every day that a guest sends a female escort down to me,” Franklin informed Rocco with a straight face.
Rocco laughed, and Kemen slapped his arm.
“You did that?” Kemen asked.
“I guess I did.” Rocco laughed.
Kemen replied, “We only talked about sending the awesome concierge guy a hooker. I didn’t think you really did it.”
Rocco and Kemen continued reminiscing about that night, and Franklin introduced himself to the women. Cora and Addie played the elegant women we all knew they weren’t, and Farah gazed at everything like a kid in Disneyland. My eyes roamed the area for possible fucks. They landed on the luscious jean-clad ass of a woman. Her elbows were resting on the marble counter at check-in as she spoke with a hotel employee. Thoughts of pounding that sweet ass from behind flooded my mind.
Holy fuck, my cock twitched. Maybe Kayden didn’t ruin it for other women.
The elevator doors opened, and I let everyone go ahead of me, so I could see this woman’s face. I needed to imprint it into my head in case I bumped into her later, because it was a fuckin’ miracle that my dick jolted. But I couldn’t imagine overlooking that ass anywhere. I watched her hand flick her brown wavy long hair over her shoulder before she turned.
My heart stopped as the elevator doors started to close. I was staring at a face that I wouldn’t have to imprint in my head for later because it was already burned there.
Kayden…
Kayden
“Damn, there are a lot of fuckable bitches in here,” Spencer expressed, walking through the casino and to the elevators.
Libby whined, “Do you have to be so freaking loud?”
“Loud is the only way, baby.” Spencer winked back at her, causing Libby to roll her eyes.
Hunter turned to me with a remorseful smile. “Sorry,” he whispered as he fell into step next to me.
“Don’t be sorry. I asked you all to come along with me,” I told Hunter.
“No, you asked me. They all fucking followed.” He laughed, and I chuckled.
Hunter, Libby, Tonya, and I silently walked into the penthouse. Spencer was not so silent.
“This is fucking awesome,” Spencer uttered, walking around in an amazed stupor.
I walked through the sitting room, taking in the beautiful rich gold-and-red contemporary look.
“Spencer,” I chastised, “put that down.”
Spencer held a gold elephant in one hand and twisted to me. “What? I’m just looking,” he announced like a little kid being caught with something he knew he shouldn’t be touching.
“Don’t touch anything. The stuff in this place probably cost more than all our salaries for a year put together,” I expressed to him before I walked down the hall that held only one door at the end.
Once I had gotten within ear shot of the door, I had heard Libby and Tonya oohing and ahing all over the room.
“This is incredible,” Tonya said while taking in the outside view of the fountains from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“I know,” Libby breathed her agreement.
The room was beige, light blue, and dove gray with bits and pieces of rusty orange thrown in. It might sound like an odd combination, but it was striking. The four-poster king-sized bed was draped in blue-and-dove-gray bedding. It was set up like one of those beds in an upscale bedding store, the one you’d want to jump into with all the fluffy bedcovers enclosing around you.
Hunter walked into the room. “This must be Kay’s room.”
Libby approved, “Definitely.”
At first, Libby agreeing with Hunter stunned me silent. I couldn’t believe she was willing to give up the master suite with this amazing view. I thought for sure she would fight to the bitter end for this room, especially since her and Hunter were fuck buddies and spending a few days in Vegas together.
“No, anyone can have this room,” I said while running my fingers over the soft material of the bed.
“Kay, if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be here.”
I looked to Hunter.
“Take the room,” he said, cocking his head toward the bed.
“If you all insist…” Then, I jumped onto the bed, and it was softer, silkier, and all-out more comfortable than anything I’d ever felt before. I laid there slowly, seeping into the plush bedding.
It truly hadn’t set in yet that I was in Vegas with my friends and staying in a suite that I didn’t have to pay for. On the other hand, I was not looking forward to the next day.
I heard my phone ring in the distance. Just as I was going to peel myself from the fluff of an expensive down comforter, it stopped.
“Fuck, Mama Brewer, this place is the bomb,” Spencer said into my phone as he materialized in the doorway.
I sat straight up. “Give me the phone,” I scolded with my hand out.
Spencer walked the distance toward me. “Damn strai
ght, I’ll send you pics. Shit, this place is like a fucking palace.”
I got to my knees and jerked my hand out to him. “Give me the phone, and don’t curse to my mom.”
Spencer said his good-byes and passed me the phone. “She loves me, and calm the fuck down.” He spun and walked away, yelling from the hall, “We’re in fucking Vegas, baby.”
I rolled my eyes and put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
Her soft voice said, “Hi, sweetie. From what Spencer said, the room is the…bomb.”
She chuckled lightly, and so did I from hearing my mom say the bomb.
I breathed, “It’s unbelievable.”
My mom sighed. “Good. You should try to enjoy yourself, and thank you, honey, for taking care of this last minute business for me.”
“You’re welcome, mom.”
Aunt Sally’s voice filled the phone, “You’d better enjoy yourself, girl. You’re in fucking Vegas. Put all the other shit out of your head, and go wild. When was the last time you took time for yourself and partied?”
“Um…” Visions of the party where I’d made a total fool of myself filled my head. And in no way was I going to make that mistake again.
“And I’m not talking about Hunter’s little parties,” Aunt Sally said, breaking into my thoughts.
I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say. I never had that party part of my life. When all my friends had been going out every weekend, I had been at home, raising two boys.
As if Aunt Sally could read my thoughts, she continued, “Exactly, sweetie. Enjoy yourself, and don’t worry about your mom. It’s just a sprained ankle, or we would be there for sure. I told her she needed to hike her leg up higher before she got off Bear’s Harley.”
Images of my mom climbing off a Harley came to mind.
Aunt Sally broke through those thoughts as she said, “We’ll see you in a few days, and I expect juicy stories from you when you get here. You hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Good. Gotta go ice the cripple’s ankle.”
“Aunt Sally…” I started with a smile.
Aunt Sally chuckled. “Just kidding, sweetie,” she said, and then her voice became muffled as she continued, “Oh, shut up, you old hag. I was just playing around. Sit there, and keep quiet, Lisa.” Aunt Sally’s voice came back to me. “See you in a few days, sweetie. Love you.”