by Taryn Quinn
“I’m not confused about anything. You, however, are confused if you think I’m going to continue this conversation. Goodnight, Seth. Give Ally my best.” I clicked off before he could do more than sputter.
As much as I didn’t want to find any value in what he’d said, he was probably right about one thing. Sage was in a sensitive spot right now. She wanted fun and adventure, and maybe that was making her less than choosy about her companion for such. I’d come along on this trip not by her choice. Maybe the hot tub adventure had been about proximity more than the boiling over of repressed sexual desire.
She was a virgin, after all. She had to be boiling so hard that she was capable of setting herself aflame. That didn’t mean she was boiling specifically for me.
Sage deserved more credit, and so did I. Just because I wanted Sage for reasons that extended beyond this trip, didn’t mean the opposite was true. I wasn’t fully certain what all those reasons were yet or when exactly they’d taken root. But perhaps it didn’t matter.
What happened in Vegas might stay in Vegas. And that was a game I didn’t intend to play.
7
Sage
Oliver was barely speaking to me. I didn’t even think it had to do with Celine. I’d caught him bobbing his head and humming under his breath during her show—which had been fan-fucking-fabulous, thank you very much, and screw you, swear gallon. But he was quiet during our post-show nightcap at a martini bar in our hotel, and I compensated by trying some of the mixed drinks off the menu.
Some being four.
He sipped one whiskey throughout, eyeing me placidly as I sampled my cares away. By the time we left, I was leaning heavily on his arm and giggling loudly enough to catch the eye of more than a few of the patrons.
Eh, whatever. This partying thing was new to me. It took practice to get right.
“Did you know I’ve never actually been drunk?” I asked as we entered the casino. We’d discussed that earlier—I thought—but I didn’t know if he remembered.
It was a miracle I remembered, never mind him.
“What do you call what you are right now?”
“Hmm.” I had to ponder that. It seemed to take a while. “Buzzed?”
“If that’s you with just a buzz, the idea of you fully drunk is a frightening prospect.”
“You’ll get to see,” I said cheerfully. “I intend to get wasted tonight.”
He gripped my elbow and propelled me forward. “You can,” he said against my ear, “because I’m here to keep you safe.”
The words created another kind of buzz in my chest, soft and warm like a handful of fireflies swarming around in the summer. The feminist side of me wanted to declare I could keep myself safe just fine, but right now, I was quite happy to let him take the lead on that so I could have fun.
“I appreciate that,” I said a little mistily as I smiled up at him. He was so handsome despite sometimes being a jackass. I also enjoyed his penis. “I spend too much time worrying, you know? So, I’m not going to do that anymore. This is me being wild and free.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. What do you want to play?”
“Everything.”
I was pretty sure I heard him sigh. “Somehow I guessed that would be your answer. Okay, new question. What do you want to start with?”
Turning my head, I widened my eyes. “Whoa, so much to see. Can we look around a bit first? Get the lay of the land. Like I want to get laid.” For some reason, that struck me as hysterically funny.
Now he definitely sighed. “C’mon then.”
I gripped his sleeve as he navigated through the crowds of people clustered around tables and machines. Lights and noise assailed my senses, pinging around in my dizzy head like pinballs set on scatter. So much to take in at once. I didn’t know where to go or what game I wanted to play. I wanted to get the full experience. Oh, and free drinks!
Without slowing down, I grabbed a pretty red drink off a passing tray and Oliver shook his head as I downed half of it in one go. It went right to my head. Cranberry. Yum.
“Wonder what this is?” I stared at my drink with appreciation. “So yummy.”
“Let me try it.”
“Okay.” I took a sip and held it in my mouth as I reached up and seized hold of his jacket to drag him down to my level. His dark pupils flared for an instant before our mouths connected, and I somewhat sloppily transferred the beverage. And sucked on his tongue for good measure.
He made a strangled noise and moved back, running his hand over his lips. He was saying something, but I wasn’t listening.
Like not even a little bit.
I wanted to fuck this man, and not because I was drunk. There was this weird sense of connection between us, drunk or sober, and being buzzed only took away my nerves of what our lives would look like post-sex. Right now, I didn’t care what came after. I wanted to ride this feeling.
Hard. All night long.
His lips were still moving, and I was staring at them like an addict would eye a loaded needle. I needed more. He had a vast wealth of experience, and he would share it with me. I could become a sex expert in the course of one weekend.
Okay, so maybe that part was the alcohol talking.
“Sage? Are you still with me? What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m horny,” I blurted, and I swear to God, he blushed.
It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Forget cooing babies. This confident, self-possessed man blushing over me saying I had sexual needs had to be the most adorable thing in the world.
Until he cupped my cheek and turned my head enough to murmur in my ear, “About ten men around us heard that, and you’re not to take any of their numbers when they fling them at you.”
I craned my neck to look around his broad shoulders, and nearly toppled over, so I grabbed his arm for balance as I peered at the men in my midst. A couple were staring. Hmm. I needed to work on my indoor voice.
“It wasn’t intended for them.”
Rather than responding with one of those heated looks I’d grown quite fond of earlier, he slipped his arm around my shoulders and nudged me forward. “So, what are we starting with?”
“Sexually? Well, hmm, I’ve always been curious about trying sixty-nine, though I prefer side to side because really, whose ass looks good hanging over a dude’s face? I’m surprised first dates ever turn into—mmph!” I mumbled as Oliver covered my mouth with his hand.
He was definitely giving me a heated look now. Just not the sexual kind.
“We can discuss this—all of this,” he said firmly, “later. Right now, pick what game you would like to play before we’re tossed out for lewd behavior.” After a moment, he finally lowered his hand.
“I’m not being lewd.” Fussily, I straightened my dress. “And you asked.”
“I did not ask about your opinions on mutual oral satisfaction. Your mind just lives in the gutter.”
“Of course it does, because my body lives in a convent.”
He said nothing, just towed me along to what he considered an acceptable slot machine. In the meantime, I downed the second half of my drink.
By the last swallow, I didn’t care that he was a stuffy prick. He was still hot. I wanted to pinch his ass.
I was bending over sideways, picking my precise target, when he whirled around and caught my shoulders. “Whatever you’re doing, I would not advise it.” He exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. “If only I had known what I was in for when Ally asked me to babysit you.”
The words barely dented my brain. They landed and just as quickly slotted into some secret corner where they would pop up at the most inconvenient time.
“Let’s play Baccawhatever,” I said with a hiccup.
He wasn’t looking at me, but at the passing pretty server with a tray of drinks. He smiled at her, and I swear to God, if I’d had a fork in my hand, the cute brunette would’ve had it between the eyes.
So, drinking made me violently jealous. Live and learn.
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Then I realized he was taking an iced water off the tray and passing it into my hand, exchanging it for my empty cup. I downed it without shame. I was so insanely thirsty.
“You have to stay hydrated. For every drink, you need to drink the same amount of water or you’re going to spend half your Vegas vacation in bed. With. A. Hangover,” he added as if he knew exactly where my thoughts had detoured.
“Do you think she’s hot?”
“Who?” He blinked at me owlishly, clearly confused, and I wanted to kiss him again.
“Let’s play Baccawhatever,” I said again, plastering myself a little tipsily against his chest. “You can teach me,” I purred.
One of his black eyebrows winged up. “Your retention skills right now aren’t worth the breath.”
“It really turns me on when you talk stuffy like that,” I said to his back as he walked toward the tables, apparently trusting I would follow.
I did, because I was back to watching his ass. Such full cheeks. Surprising on such a leanly muscled man. Then again, I hadn’t made a study of many male asses. Such a shame. They were so sexy.
When I joined him at the table—Baccarat was the correct name, I swiftly learned—he was already placing a bet. His wallet was thick. Not the only thing that was thick on him, but his wallet wasn’t permanently attached to his body.
At least I didn’t think so. Though he did seem rather attached to it.
I giggled at the thought, and half the snooty people at the table looked at me as if I was something that had been left behind with the trash. Oliver gathered me against his side as he spoke to the dealer, and I didn’t know if I wanted to shake him off or settle in.
Naturally, I settled in. His arms were a magical elixir. Plus, I was so drunk.
Oliver pressed his lips against my ear to briefly explain the rules. Something about needing to hit eight or nine before the house, along with a bunch of other exceptions. Whatever. I rubbed my hands together.
Let’s play.
Oliver lost the first three hands. Every time, I tried to cheer him on, though the glances he offered in return lacked appreciation. Still, I soldiered on. Especially when he won the fourth, fifth, and sixth ones—and I’d bet on him winning all of them.
Let no one say I didn’t stand by my man.
Sort-of man? I wasn’t sure what the protocol was there. I’d only had his dick in my mouth. We’d have to discuss that later. Possibly when I was sober.
“You’re so good at this.” I leaned up on my tiptoes and nuzzled his jaw. “You just made me very good money.”
He cocked a brow. “Six dollars?”
I frowned. “Stop it. I bet more than that.”
He sorted through my tidy stack of, um, ones. “Six,” he repeated. “I didn’t even know you could bet that low.”
The dealer winked. “She’s cute.”
Oliver didn’t even growl, just placed the next bet. And proceeded to win the next two times as well, raising his bets each time. As did I. Not like he did, though. He was a high roller.
Must be nice to be rich.
When he finally decided he’d had enough and motioned toward me as he moved away from the table, I was a little in awe. He was a damn shark. Cool and composed no matter what he was betting. Ice water in his veins. I’d been so impressed by his poker face that I’d even sobered up a little.
The horny thing, however? Even more in force. At least in his direction.
“So, have you decided on a game you’d like to try? Or want to spin the wheel?” He gestured to the Wheel of Fortune game a few feet away.
I shook my head and tried to do math to figure out how much I had to spend. The radio station had awarded me two-fifty in spending money and I’d brought a small amount myself, along with the one credit card I used for emergencies. I also had my Baccarat windfall, which was modest.
“I’ll just play a couple and we can leave,” I promised, slipping onto a seat in front of a game that had giant buffalos who appeared to be stampeding for money. The basic deal appeared to be the typical get three like objects, ca-ching. Get three buffalo, get bonus plays.
Seemed like a winning formula to me.
“I won’t be long,” I said again, snagging a drink off a passing tray and flinging a tip in the server’s direction. I’d forgotten that last time.
I took a sip. Hello, cranberry deliciousness, old friend.
This one seemed to be virgin, however. Like me. Look at that.
Sipping again, I tested my luck with the game. It took a bit to get the hang of it, but once I did—and once my money started adding up—I finished my drink and went for another, this time not virgin at all.
Hell’s bells, I had beginner’s luck at more than blowjobs. Look at me, raking in the cash.
Oliver had wandered off with his phone to his ear, but he came back often enough to check on me that I felt warm and protected rather than irritated. A matter of perspective, I realized, but I happened to like it when he seemed caring and involved.
Did I mention I was still drunk? I’d probably see things differently tomorrow.
Racking up the dollah-dollah bills wasn’t hurting my buoyant mood one iota. Who needed liquid courage when the machine was rolling your way?
“Still playing?” Oliver asked sometime later. I had no concept of time. This crap was addictive.
I’d have to investigate casinos in New York. Oooh, Atlantic City.
“Yes,” I mumbled, betting again. “Only a few minutes more. I’m on a winning streak. Can’t move yet.”
Oliver sighed. “Six dollars again?” He cupped my shoulder and leaned in. “Let’s see—holy shit.” He scrubbed the side of his fist over the small number in the corner of the screen as if he couldn’t believe it was real either.
Let’s just say I’d be able to pay for our plane ride home—first class.
“Told you,” I said smugly. “You doubted my prowess.”
“Princess, I don’t doubt your prowess at anything you put your mind to.”
Unthinkingly, I turned my head and kissed his knuckles. That wasn’t even the alcohol spurring me on. I was beginning to truly like the guy.
Amazing how fast things could change.
He curled his fingers into my shoulder before subtly transferring the hold to my throat and tipping back my head. My lips parted, and I forgot all about my winnings as I gazed up into his midnight eyes.
“You keep right on playing as long as you want.” Even as he said it, I sensed an invitation behind his words. A reminder that once I was finished, he would be there, waiting.
Or maybe that was wishful thinking. I tended to do that often. There was a reason my bestie labeled me a hopeless romantic.
“Oh, dammit.” I jerked on the seat and Oliver’s hand fell away. “I told Ally I’d text her after Celine to tell her how it was.” I’d no sooner pulled out my phone than Oliver plucked it away.
“Take this time for you, princess. She’ll be there later.” He pocketed my cell and brushed a careless kiss over my hair that so did not feel like a casual gesture.
I should complain about him taking away my agency. That might have been an ongoing theme. But some part of me felt relieved. I was having fun and didn’t really want to check in right now. I loved Ally, loved talking to her, but I didn’t want to deal with her questions about Oliver again. She’d asked me some earlier, trying to act nonchalant—were we getting along, were we having fun, was he being all Oliver-ish—but that had been pre-blowjob. I really didn’t want to talk about what Oliver and I were or weren’t at the moment. All I wanted was to party on and just be.
So yeah, he’d done me a favor. A small one I’d probably be righteously indignant over later, after I wheeled my money wheelbarrow out of the joint.
I didn’t look up from the machine for who knows how long. Eventually, my excited whoops of joy as I kept right on winning drew a small crowd. Some younger people, some seniors, and one or two men who assumed I needed some help spending
my cash. I did not. I also didn’t need anyone’s assistance in picking my stopping figure. Once I reached the number my dizzy brain had set on after my streak had begun, I ended the game and stood up with my arms above my head like a prizefighter.
“That’s all she wrote! All done here. Thanks for cheering me on, everyone.”
People laughed and slapped hands with me, and then a couple industrious types nearly knocked me over in their haste to fight over my machine. I stepped aside and grinned, about to look for Oliver, when his warmth surrounded me from behind.
“Did I mention you’re magnificent?” His soft voice at my ear was more powerful than any drink I’d consumed. More potent than ten of them in quick succession.
“Not recently you haven’t.” It was a risk to turn and loop my arms around his neck, but I was in a betting mood.
I laughed as he lifted me up and crushed me to his chest. Looming over him, I brushed a hand over that wayward lock of brown hair that always liked to dip into his eyes. Such dark, intense eyes. And I fell under their witchy spell as surely as if he’d commanded me to.
“Congratulations. You’re magnificent.” He angled his mouth to give me a celebratory kiss, probably a chaste one. That was Oliver’s MO.
It wasn’t mine. Not this weekend.
I slanted my lips over his and took greedily, not wasting any time on pretenses. I hadn’t been kissed nearly enough in my life. Certainly not by a man like Oliver, whose skill was practically bathroom fodder in our town.
Which might set some nerves brewing at another time, but not now.
Weaving my fingers into his hair, I drew on his tongue, sucking lightly. Teasingly. Letting him know I was a sure thing if he’d decided not to retreat behind silence again as he had for a while earlier.
He responded in kind, his lips teasing mine open farther as he gave as good as he got. Better. Those sly little licks were going to kill me. Hints of pressure, flickers of need, never alighting long enough for me to settle in and lose myself.
But I was halfway there.
“Not here,” he murmured, and I found myself nodding.