by Kaylee Ryan
“You deserve better,” I say, barely able to keep my voice calm. Her ex is a fucking douchebag. He let the best thing that ever happened to him slip through his fingers.
“I do,” she agrees. “It’s just hard, you know. I have no family. Most men who are ready to settle down look for that. You know ‘What’s her mom look like? Because that’s what you’re going to be waking up next to in thirty years.’” She takes a drink of her wine. “And what if someday I have kids? I mean, I know my parents, and I have their records from the foster system. Elaine somehow pulled some strings, but that’s it. I don’t know if my grandparents had heart disease or diabetes. What if my kids get sick and I need that information and I can’t help them?”
Reaching across the table, I rest my hand on top of hers. “Saylor, you can’t worry about the unknown. When you’re a mother, you will do what you have to do for your children. Okay, so you don’t have that long line of family history to fall back on. You don’t need that to treat heart disease or diabetes. You can’t let your past control your future.”
She takes another drink of wine, this time draining her glass. I grab the bottle and fill it back up. “I get that, I do.” She closes her eyes and sinks back against the booth seat. “I think my fear comes from never being first choice. You know? I mean, I want a man to fall in love with me because of who I am, my past, my present, what will be my future. I want him to choose me for me, not for what I can bring to his company or how I’ll look on his arm.” She closes her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and locking her gaze on me. “As far as my hypothetical children, I’ve never lived in a normal environment. Two loving parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles—I’ve never lived that life. Elaine is my only true example of how to love and nurture, and I’m scared as hell I’ll fuck it all up. That not having that history will somehow taint the mother I could be. Not being able to give them that.”
The waiter interrupts and drops off our steaks. I thank him and wait until he’s out of earshot before replying. “Any man—” She bows her head. “Look at me, Saylor.” I wait several heartbeats until she looks up at me. “Any man would be one lucky son of a bitch to get to call you his. Your family is what you make it. Nothing in your past will prevent you from being a good mother, wife, or daughter-in-law. Nothing. You have to believe in yourself. You make your dreams a reality, Say.”
“Enough of the heavy.” She sits forward and grabs her steak knife and fork. “This looks great.”
I let her change the subject, partly because I want to shake her and kiss her at the same time. I want to prove to her that she’s worthy of anything and everything she’s ever dreamed of. We eat dinner, only discussing safer topics, such as tomorrow’s sampling and how Gramps is doing.
“It’s hard to watch them slip,” she says softly.
“It is.” I clear the emotion from my throat. “For me it’s doubled because he’s still pissed at me. I swear that man knows how to hold a grudge. He barely speaks to me, and it’s been months.”
“He’ll come around. You have to give him time,” she assures me.
“That’s just it, Short Stack, what if he doesn’t have time?”
“I wish I knew the answer. I wish I had words of wisdom for you. All I can say is keep trying. Never go a day without letting him know you’re here and how much he means to you. If I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that.” She picks up her fork and begins eating again. We finish our meal in comfortable silence.
“You ready for this?” I ask her as we leave the restaurant.
“I am.” She grins, and I feel my body relax knowing that she’s happy again. We’ve had enough of the heavy for one night.
Instead of holding her hand, I place my arm around her shoulders and hold her close. She doesn’t pull away like I expected her to. I think we both need the connection after our dinner conversation. The burlesque show is just one block down from the restaurant. I was lucky enough to snag some pretty killer seats down front. I’m not sure how, considering it was such short notice, but when I told the lady at the ticket counter I wanted the best possible, she came through for me. Maybe I looked desperate and she threw me a bone? All I do know is that I’m sitting about ten rows back from the stage at a Vegas burlesque show with my arm around the most beautiful girl in the building. Well worth whatever it is I paid for these seats. I didn’t even ask, just handed her my card and told her to make it happen.
The lights go out, and Saylor leans into me. “I’m so excited,” she whispers.
I chuckle at her and relax against the seat, my arm still around her shoulders. When the curtain rises and the dancers come out, she’s transfixed. I can’t take my eyes off of hers as they widen with the sexy dance moves and excitement of all that is Vegas. Every so often, she turns to look at me a wide grin splitting her face; every single time, I’m already looking at her. She doesn’t comment. She’s too damn excited to even notice that she’s all I see.
“That was amazing,” she says once the lights come on. She’s biting her bottom lip, something she’s done a lot since the dancers took the stage. I dare to think she’s turned on. I know I am. My cock has been hard as one of the dancer’s stilettos since we sat down. It’s all Saylor. “Now what?” she asks.
“Anything you want.” I stand and grab her hand, guiding her back out to the strip.
“What about the lights, you know, the fountains? I’ve always wanted to see that,” she says hopefully.
“I think they happen every fifteen minutes at night.” Looking down at my watch, I see it’s half past eleven. “We have about three blocks to walk in fifteen minutes, you up for the challenge?”
“Yes!” She jumps and claps her hands. “I got my running shoes on.” She sticks out her foot to show me she’s wearing her Chucks—not that I didn’t already know that. I’ve memorized every inch of her that I can see tonight.
“All right, babe, let’s go.” We take off at a fast walk, her hand in mine.
“Your legs are too damn long.” She laughs, jogging to keep up with my brisk pace.
I stop and crouch down. “Hop on,” I tell her.
“What? No. I’ll hurt you.”
“Really, Short Stack?” She rolls those baby blues at me.
Smiling, she climbs on, wrapping her arms and legs around me. I take off at my brisk pace, only a little faster. She clings to me, her laughter next to my ear. It makes me want to run her up and down the strip all night long. Well, it makes me want to do more than that, but my cock doesn’t get to come out and play, no matter how much we both want him to.
We reach the Bellagio just as the show starts for the last time of the day. “We made it,” she squeals.
Before I can stop her, she’s sliding down my back and standing in front of me. She looks up and watches with rapt attention. When she looks over her shoulder at me smiling, I can’t stay away from her. Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around her and bring her back to my chest. Eventually, she settles her head against my chest and enjoys the show. I’ve seen it before, several times in fact, but never like this. Never with my cock hard a steel, and my heart pounding so hard I feel as though it could bounce right out of my chest. Never with a beautiful woman wrapped in my arms. Never with the thoughts racing through my mind of how to keep her there.
I’m in the middle of a fairy tale. It has to be the magic of Vegas. Rhett has been sweet and attentive. When he pulled me into his arms, I couldn’t fight it. I want to be exactly where I am. Wrapped up in him. They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and now I get it. It’s a place where sex is on every corner. Many of the show posters we’ve passed are adult in nature. Then there’s this light and fountain show. I’m sure there’s a fancier name for it, but right now, all I can think of is how great it feels to be in his arms.
“Happy?” he asks. His hot breath hits my ear and causes goose bumps to break out on my skin.
“Yeah,” I say wistfully. “Thank you for this.” I point i
n front of us. His reply is to kiss my temple. We stand there until the show is over. I don’t want to miss a single second of it, of being with him like this.
“Ready?” I ask, turning to face him. His arms are still wrapped tight around me. He’s looking at me, and I know the magic of this place is affecting him too. “Whiskey,” I whisper.
I see need flash in his eyes before his lips cover mine. The kiss is slow, but his hands are not as they pull me right against him, cupping my ass cheeks. Standing on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his neck and try to get closer. I need to be closer.
He growls deep in his throat. “Saylor,” my name falls from his lips before they move to my neck, kissing, licking, nipping, and soothing with his tongue. It’s an onslaught of emotions. I can’t fight it. I don’t want to. Instead, I tilt my head, giving him access. “So fucking beautiful,” he mumbles before sucking gently on the base of my neck.
“Get a room!” someone slurs with laughter.
Rhett pulls his lips from my skin. His whiskey eyes are full of desire as he peers down at me. He doesn’t say anything, just bends and kisses me one more time. This time it’s just a quick peck before he’s pulling me into his side and we start walking. I assume we’re going back to the hotel, but I can’t be sure. I’m reeling from his kiss, from the sensation of his lips against my skin. I don’t think I could find my voice even if I knew what to say.
When we reach the door to the hotel, Rhett moves his hand to the small of my back and guides me into the building and across the lobby to the golden elevator that takes us straight to our suite. I want to say something, anything that will keep this from being awkward, but I’m so out of my element. I’ve never been kissed by a man the way Rhett kisses me. It’s all-consuming. I can’t say that it was nothing, because to me it wasn’t. It was sexy, thrilling, and intense. Instead of telling him it was nothing, I want to beg him to do it again. That’s my last thought when the golden doors close us inside the elevator and Rhett pushes me back against the elevator door. His lips crash to mine while he pulls my leg to wrap around his. I can feel his erection pressing into me. His lips are demanding as they mold firmly against mine. Reaching up, I bury my hands in his hair and let go. I don’t think about what it means or what it doesn’t. Instead, I just feel. Feel his heat pushed against me, his lips busy against mine, his tongue as it outlines my lips and battles with mine.
I just feel him.
Rhett.
All too soon, the doors are sliding open. I groan. I don’t want to stop kissing him. I want more of him, more of this. I try to pull away, knowing that we need to go to our room. I squeal when Rhett bends and lifts me. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist, and my arms around his neck.
“I got you,” he whispers. I bury my face in his neck, placing a soft kiss just below his ear. “Saylor,” he growls. It’s not an angry growl; it’s an “I’m going to devour you” growl. I never knew the difference until right this minute. It’s empowering to know he wants me like this. I’ve never experienced this level of need.
“Back pocket, beautiful. We need the room key.”
Keeping one hand around his neck, I slide the other down to his back pocket and pull out his wallet.
“Open it,” he tells me. “It’s right in the front slot.” Doing as he says, I retrieve the key. “Unlock the door, Say.” I can actually hear the desire in his voice. Fumbling with the key, I manage to get the door unlocked. Rhett carries me to what I assume is his room and tosses me gently on the fluffy mattress. “Wallet,” he says, holding out his hand. I give it to him. I watch as he opens it and pulls out a condom then tosses his wallet to the floor. “I only have one, Say, so we need to make it count.”
Heat pools in my belly. I can’t take my eyes off him as he reaches behind him and pulls his shirt over his head. My eyes follow his hands as he unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his hips, letting them fall to the floor. He moves toward the bed.
“What about those?” I croak out, pointing to his boxer briefs that are doing nothing to hide his erection.
“You first. I’m close to exploding as it is. I need to get you there,” he murmurs, kissing my lips.
“I’m already there,” I mutter, my lips next to his ear. He growls again, and this time I feel it deep in my core.
“Off,” he says, pulling at my shirt. I roll out from under him and slide off the bed. “Saylor,” he warns.
“Patience,” I scold him playfully.
“None. I have no fucking patience when you’re no longer under me,” he says. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed where he reaches out for me.
I’m faster.
“Just watch,” I say, my voice husky with desire. I’ve never done this, been brave enough to demand what I want. It has to be the wine, or that Vegas magic. Then again, it could be Rhett. More than likely, it’s a combination of all three. Slowly, I remove my shirt and toss it on the bedroom floor. His eyes follow my every move. Sliding my hands ever so slowly, painfully slow even for me, I run them across my stomach, only stopping when I reach the waistband of my jeans. I shimmy my hips until they pool at my feet. Rhett reaches for me again. This time I don’t even try to evade him. With deft fingers, he slides my panties down my legs. I step of out, leaving them and my jeans in a pile on the floor.
He pulls me to stand between his legs, and he rests his forehead against my belly, holding his hands on the back of my thighs. He’s breathing heavy. Not only can I see the rise and fall, but I can feel it as I run my hands up and down his back. I’m starting to worry he’s changed his mind. “I’m trying really fucking hard to take this slow, Short Stack. I’m barely hanging on to my control,” he says, not looking at me.
“Hey, Whiskey,” I say softy, running my fingers through his hair. He raises his head to look at me. “Then don’t.”
He lifts me, gripping onto the back of my thighs, and tosses me on the bed. I land with a soft bounce, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes.
“I love that sound,” he says. “I just think we need to change it up a bit.” He drops to his knees. I yelp when he pulls me to the end of the mattress and places my legs over his shoulders. “You okay with this, Short Stack? You gonna let me taste you?” he asks, running his fingers though my folds.
“Y-yes,” I manage to breath the word. I lift my hips as if I’m offering myself to him. I can’t control it; my body is speaking for itself.
“So fucking perfect,” he says, leaning in and teasing me with his tongue.
My hands go to his hair, and I tug. It’s a fantasy I’ve had often when it comes to Rhett; I just never thought it would come to life. He swirls his tongue around my clit, and my back arches off the bed. “Yes,” I pant. “That.” I hold him there. His hands grip the inside of my thighs and push my legs further apart, opening me to him. He nips at my clit then soothes it with his tongue. “I-I can’t,” I say, fighting the urge to push him away but wanting him to stay where he is at the same time. I’m overwhelmed with a burning sensation running through my body.
“You can,” he says, barely lifting his mouth from me before going back for more.
“Rhett.” His name falls from my lips. I’m gripping his hair so damn tight, holding on for the ride.
“Gonna need you to let go, Short Stack, just feel,” he says, kissing the inside of my thigh.
His mouth is everywhere all at once—at least that’s what it seems like. When he tongues my clit, nipping and sucking, it throws me over the edge. I make noises that sound like a wild fucking animal, but I can’t seem to control it. He’s giving me the most intense orgasm of my life.
When I can finally focus on what’s going on around me, I feel Rhett kissing his way up my belly. Stopping at my breasts, he nips one first then the other with his teeth, causing desire to flare yet again. Not sure how it’s possible with the orgasm I just had. My legs are still trembling from the onslaught of his tongue.
He settles himself beside me and pulls me into his arms. “F
ucking, beautiful,” he says before softly kissing the top of my head.
We lay there, quiet, neither one of us saying anything else. When my breathing slows, I come to my senses. I’m lying naked in bed with Rhett Baxter. Not willing to miss this chance with him, I run my hands over the ridged planes of his abs. I venture on until I reach his boxer briefs. The head of his cock is poking through the top. Gently, I run my finger across the tip.
He shudders. “Saylor?” There’s a question in his voice.
Slipping my hand under his boxers, I grip him then give his cock a tender stroke. Before I can go any further, he’s flips me onto my back and hovers over me.
He grinds his cock into my core. “You did this,” he says huskily. “This is what you do to me.”
“Show me.” I look up at him.
“I need you to tell me exactly what that means, Say.”
“I want you,” I tell him, lifting my hips for more friction.
“You want me?” He bends down and kisses me. I can taste myself on his tongue. “You want my cock?” he asks huskily, grinding his hips into mine.
“Yes, all of it. Yes,” I say closing my eyes, trying to memorize the feel of his weight on me. All too soon, his weight is gone and I’m opening my eyes. I watch, captivated as he slips out of his boxer briefs and strokes his cock. I moan, not able to prevent my body’s reaction to him.
Leaning over the bed, he kisses me. His lips against mine is like a drug. It’s not an experience I’ll ever get enough of. Pulling back, he grabs the condom he took out of his wallet earlier and tears open the package. My eyes are glued to his hands and he rolls it down his length. “You’re fucking me with your eyes, Saylor.” His voice is gruff as he climbs back on the bed.
He hovers over me, his arms on either side of my head holding his weight. His hair falls down into his eyes, and I immediately push it back. He leans down, his lips linger over mine, and his hair tickles my face. He holds my stare, his brown eyes full of heat before he closes the small distance and slowly traces his tongue across my lips, and I open for him, craving the taste of us. It’s erotic and not something I ever thought I would like. With Rhett, it’s hot as hell.