One Night in Vegas

by Mari Carr, Red Phoenix, Angel Payne, Sierra Cartwright, Jenna Jacob, Victoria Blue

That thought alone, layered atop the memory of Sam’s intense stare from fifteen minutes ago, fisted her chest with fresh pain. She stabbed at the elevator call button, the glowing dial blurring past her new tears. “Come on, come on.”

  The doors finally slid open. Thank God.

  “Jen!”

  Sam’s shout was followed by his charging footsteps.

  “Shit.” She hissed it while rushing into the lift, pounding just as frantically at the buttons inside. She missed her floor by three digits but there’d be time to correct that once she’d gotten away. “Hurry up,” she ordered the doors. “Come on!”

  A hand, powerful and tense, jammed into the opening.

  A Scot, hulking and scowling, barged into the car.

  And ripped the remaining breath from her throat.

  Jen backed into the corner. So not a smart choice. Inside three seconds, she was pinned there, unable to lift her head and see anything but Sam, broad shoulders blocking her light. Smell anything but him, all forest and cedar and leather. Feel anything but his energy, volatile but focused. Completely on her.

  “Sam.” Oh, yay. Her inner Sofía still wasn’t cooperating. Saucy and sexy, she was not. Awkward and ridiculous, on the other hand…

  “Jennifer.”

  For a second, she forgot about being nervous. “Jennifer?”

  “Would you prefer Jennifer Josephine Thorne?”

  “Would you prefer to keep your teeth?”

  The elevator started to ascend. He tilted his head, letting his eyes dip over her face then back up again. Though they glittered brighter than ever, his mouth stuck to a no-nonsense line.

  “What happened?” He barely lifted it past a murmur. He didn’t have to. Oh damn, he was so close. So big and hard and—

  Don’t do it. Don’t touch him. No matter how tempting that cord in his neck, those slabs of his chest, that plane of his shoulder, or the thousand other places you want to explore…

  “What happened when?”

  He closed his eyes, as if praying to a higher power for patience. “You know when. Just now, in the bathroom, with Mattie and Viv. They walked in not long after you, then came back out lookin’ like their eggs had two yolks.”

  “Huh?”

  “Too far left of themselves.”

  “Huh?”

  His lips thinned. His gaze sharpened. The expression might’ve been only nominally daunting if he didn’t reinforce it by leaning in close, bracing his forearms to the lift’s walls over her head. “Just tell me what happened.”

  Jen forced down a breath. Another. She watched his pulse throb at the base of his throat. Let her gaze descend to where his taut, golden skin disappeared into the V of his shirt. “Why? Because it’s suddenly your business?”

  He was silent. For way too long. Which only curled his heavy, dark growl deep into her blood.

  “Jen.”

  She gulped again.

  “Jenny.”

  God. When was the last time she’d been called that? Never. And had it ordered at her in that deep purr… Her senses felt punched through the elevator’s roof, up the shaft, into the endless stars outside.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Look at me.”

  She had no choice. He controlled her then, his voice like velvet strings, tugging her sights up. Over his taut jaw. Across the defined curves of his lips. Into his quicksilver eyes, fixed on her.

  “What happened in the bathroom?”

  She gulped. Holy shit, he was beautiful. An angel’s flawless face atop a demon’s perfect body. His stance pulled his shirt tight across his chest. Every molded mound of muscle was outlined for her gawking pleasure.

  Don’t think of pleasure. Not here, not now. Don’t think of how amazing he’d feel if you just reached up a few inches and—

  “It was about—”

  She huffed.

  And that was going to make him back off?

  “You. It was about you. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “Me?” His stance didn’t falter despite the confusion crumpling his face. “Why?”

  It felt good to laugh. “You’re kidding, right?” When he glowered, she retorted, “You’re not a dumb guy, Sam. That woman wants you—and intends to have you.”

  “A couple of hours after meeting me?”

  “It’s called a one-night fling, bucky. I’m sure you’ve heard of them? Perhaps even indulged?”

  Sam snorted. “Not with someone I barely know.”

  Her brow tightened. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Is that an issue?”

  “Not here.” She held up her hands. “Just a little surprising.”

  “Because you just expected we were all like Caleb and Dirk.”

  A new laugh sprang up. That usually happened when anyone mentioned the inseparable pals from the Scottish team. The pair had really enjoyed their down time in Las Vegas—as well as half the city’s single female population.

  Sam shifted closer. Locked his stare down harder. “If I had to entrust my life to either of those men, I would in an instant. But the social life of my tadger is a different story.”

  “Your what?” She got her answer via his knowing grin—and the press of his lower body against hers. Hell. His shoulders, abs, and thighs weren’t the only…impressive…parts of him. “I—” she stammered. “I think—” She didn’t know what the bloody hell she thought. “So what does that mean?”

  “It means I’m not going anywhere with Mattie Lesange tonight.”

  “Thank God. Holy shit.” The last half escaped as soon as she realized the first had been spilled. “That’s not—I only meant that—” She wetted her lips. Instantly regretted it, as the move flared Sam’s eyes and nostrils at once. Damn. Damn. He was no longer her sweet, charming schoolgirl crush from the office. He was a looming, hungry saber tooth, rippling with power, only missing a pair of fangs to complete his primeval effect on her blood, her nerves, her skin.

  “I know what you meant, Jenny.”

  His voice tumbled through her like gravel in an hourglass. Every surface it touched was left with a scratch, freshly in danger of shattering. She trembled—

  Then, as the elevators doors opened, gasped in gratitude.

  Okay, she was three floors off. Not the time for beggars to be choosers. Or for women with burning blood and throbbing nerves to be concerned about burning off tension by trudging up some stairs.

  Make that a lot of tension.

  Except that—she took one step off the lift, and suddenly couldn’t move again. An iron grip latched around her elbow, halting her escape before it became one. She only wished that when she looked down at Sam’s hand, digging into her skin with blatant possessiveness, she hadn’t turned into an instant ball of molten mush.

  “What the hell—”

  She choked into silence as he pulled her down the hall to the guest suites. After passing two doors, he stopped. A key card somehow appeared in his other hand. Swiping it fast, he opened the door. With an equally swift tick of his head, he commanded her inside.

  With her nerves racing, her heart exploding, and her brain screaming, Jen immediately, silently complied.

  Chapter Two

  His suite was dark except for the dancing colors across the walls, thanks to the digital billboards along the Strip, fifty floors below. Jen reached and turned on the lights.

  Sam turned them back off.

  In the same sweep of motion, he backed her against the wall. Kept her locked there with the press of his huge body, the force of his steeled glare—

  And the crush of his dominant kiss.

  A stunned mewl quivered up her throat. He snuffed it before it reached her lips. Consumed her with the sweep of his tongue, not stopping for innuendo or permission. He took over every corner of her mouth, licking into every crevice, leaving no confusion about his passionate purpose.

  Holy shit.

  Was this really happening?

  She’d dreamed about it so many times. Tried to i
magine how he’d feel, smell, taste, and look. But all of this was so much better. So much more. His muscles, big and dense, molded against hers. His fingers, long and forceful, twined into hers. His kiss, deep and consuming, taking over her. Gone was her sarcastic buddy from the office. In his place was a lover, bathed in golden light but defined by dark intent, pinning her wrists to the wall over her head…leaving her only one option with which to answer his passion.

  Complete surrender.

  With a groan, she softened, melted…gave in.

  With an answering growl, Sam plunged deeper, harder, hotter.

  Minutes—hours, perhaps, as if she cared—later, he dragged away far enough to bolt his gaze into her. An slow smile spread over his generous lips. “I’ve been dreamin’ of doin’ that for far too fuckin’ long.”

  Jen softly laugh. “That makes two of us.”

  He swallowed as if she’d just told him the governor had stayed his execution. “Why didn’t you tell me? Show me?”

  She laughed louder. “Sorry. Hold on. One of the hottest pilots on the planet just asked me why I didn’t tell him how he’s helped me wear down a few vibrator batteries over the last nine months—because that’s something to mention at the water cooler.”

  His lips parted. His gaze glittered. He lunged into her again, kissing her as if she’d turned into his life support. “Mention vibrators like that again, Jenny, and I’ll forget the private promise I made when bringin’ you in here.”

  “What promise was that?”

  “The one about bein’ a gentleman.”

  She rolled her wrists against his hold. “This is being a gentleman?”

  “Compared to what I really want to do with you right now?” As he nodded, his forehead fell against hers. “Yes. This is bein’ a gentleman.”

  He finished it by bending in, once more fitting their lips together. This time, the contact was a gentle brush. Jen didn’t hold back on the effect of it: a tremor that rifted the fault lines of her control. Her knees weakened. Her clenching cleft rubbed against her soaked panties.

  “Sam?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t be a gentleman.”

  A snarl ripped from deep inside him. As his mouth tore into hers all over again.

  They groaned. Thrusted. Shifted. Needed. Jen hitched one leg around his waist. Then the other. Sam adjusted his weight, securing her hips to the wall by sliding his crotch against hers. Dear…God. The man’s erection, even shielded by his clothes, matched the rest of him. The bulge between her thighs was big, broad, throbb­ing…irresist­ible.

  Which made the next moment a little unnerving.

  All right…a lot unnerving.

  Deep furrows of conflict creased his brow. He slowly shook his head. “Bold, bonny girl,” he finally rasped. “You still don’t understand.”

  “Then make me,” she countered. “Please, Sam. Make me understand.”

  He slid one hand to the side of her face. Angled his thumb beneath her chin, bracing her to continue gazing at him. Like that was a huge problem. “You can already feel how badly I want you.”

  She couldn’t help giggling. “Sam, they can probably feel it two rooms over.”

  He didn’t return her humor. “But things aren’t just that easy.”

  She pushed her lips up at him. When he deliberately pulled back, she pleaded, “Why?”

  “Because…I want you completely, Jen. All of you…surrenderin’ to me.” The skirmish across his face continued, until he seemed to reach some bold inner decision. Jaw newly firmed, he went on, “It means I want to put you on that bed, strip every thread of clothing from you, then bind you down,”—he pushed harder on the wrist he still held—“a great deal like this.”

  Jen fastened her stare deeper into his. “Only the bonds won’t be your hands.”

  New light flared against the smoke of his eyes. New blood surged into the girth of his cock. “My hands would prefer to be busy with other things.”

  As her own blood rushed south, Jen sucked in a long breath. “But is all that even…possible? I mean, here? This is a hotel, not a kink club.”

  “This is the Nyte.” He stepped back a little, only to slide open the door to the entry hall closet. Inside of that, there was another cabinet, containing a backlit display, much like a custom liquor array. But in place of Belvedere, Bacardi, and Patrón, there were items like wrist cuffs, blindfolds, and riding crops. “An honor bar for every thirst.”

  “No shit.”

  Her face heated all over again. It had nothing to do with the toys and everything to do with the new intensity of Sam’s stare. She couldn’t bear to return the scrutiny, for fear of what it would do to her bloodstream…and the little lake pooling between her legs.

  “Is that a good ‘no shit’ or a bad ‘no shit’?”

  Time to look up. Even if she spontaneously combusted from it, she had to let him see how much she meant her response. “Could anything be bad with you, Sam Mackenna?”

  An expression suffused his face, something between humility and pleasure. It warmed her so deeply, she wished she could tell him to do it again so she could fetch her phone and make a GIF of it. But even a digital reproduction wouldn’t compare to the energy he gave off, a heat that made her wonder if her extremities would turn into fireworks. It made her response to his next words an absolute no-brainer.

  “Very well, then. Get on that bed, and let me watch you take off every stitch of your clothes.”

  Chapter Three

  She wasn’t sure she could last until the whole tie-me-up part. By the time she’d stripped to nothing but her panties, Sam’s gaze, matched in sensuality by his growls, had her pussy pulsing to the point of abject sensitivity. She was damn certain that once she took that last garment off, he’d be watching her come apart in the middle of the bed. The man himself didn’t help, having gone naked except for his pants. Every inch of his shoulders, arms, chest and abs were as ripped as she’d imagined, even showing off distended veins.

  Unbelievably, she survived. With her heart turning her chest into a rave party, she slipped the underwear free, and prepared to give it the same saucy toss to the chair she’d just given her bra—

  Until she looked up into Sam’s outstretched palm.

  “Put them here.” His voice was little more than a murmur, but had her pulse thudding wildly. She complied, then watched as he rolled her panties between his impossibly long fingers. “Wet,” he finally growled. “Very wet. That is very, very good.”

  Jen had no idea how to respond, so didn’t. She simply waited, knees tucked beneath her and hands resting on her thighs, hoping she still pleased him. She always tried to take care of herself, but no way in hell did she have Tess’s svelte perfection or even Mattie’s lush curves. She was just…somewhere in the middle. But maybe the middle was okay, at least for now.

  “Holy fuck.”

  His snarl made her nipples tingle. And her sex clench. And her head snap up. “At the risk of being trite, is that a good ‘holy fuck’ or a bad—”

  “Lay back.” His interjection was rough, deep, and filled with masculine need. “All the way. I need to see you. All of you.”

  His emphasis on the final three words was another torch to her desire. Jen couldn’t figure out why, until she was flat against the mattress with her wrists over her head, secured into cuffs he’d somehow secured to the headboard. She didn’t question the method—every square inch of this room seemed booby-trapped with erotic hidey holes—only enjoyed the full effect of the result. With her arms stretched, her breasts were taut and exposed, tips sizzling with awareness, jutting from puckered areolas. She was aware of every full, hot breath she took, and how those inhalations made her body tremble with brand-new awareness. She was an exposed wire, ready to spark and explode at the slightest provocation…

  It was no huge surprise that her hips arched off the mattress when Sam dragged a knuckle down her sternum. That she keened as he descended that hand lower, turning it over in order
to hold her abdomen down.

  “Easy, mo luaidh.” His voice was a purr again, though infused with a new authority she couldn’t deny or ignore. “Easy, now. Stay right here for me. I want to explore this sweet cunt before I fill every inch of it.”

  “Oh.”

  It was the only word her lips would produce. It burst from her on a high gasp as Sam dipped his other hand between her thighs, parting her most sensitive folds with knowing expertise. Feeling his touch…on her…right there…

  “Oh!”

  She flushed, gulped, and cried out all in the same surreal moment, bucking once again. He pushed down on her a little harder, keeping her there, accepting his invasion whether she liked it or not.

  But oh God, did she like it.

  His finger, so elegant and strong, was soon joined by another. Then a third. Jen groaned, conscious of every new inch he stretched, every new claim he made on her flesh. Her legs fell open, needing to give him more. Still he dictated, “Farther. Open them wide, sweet Jenny. Show me what my cock is goin’ to conquer.”

  “Yes.” It fell from her on a rasp as she spread her legs, turning into a creature she no longer recognized—but really liked. With Sam, she didn’t have to worry about right or wrong, about sexiness or acceptance. For just now, just tonight, she was all his to be positioned how he wished, restrained how he wished, fucked how he wished. Crazily enough, his bonds had given her freedom. His control gave her permission to surrender. And his adoration turned her into the one thing she’d never imagined: a fearless, dauntless gift to her bronze, beautiful lover. “Yes…please.”

  Sam rewarded her for the kittenish spin on the words, spreading an approving smile—and twisting his fingers deeper. As Jen answered with a fresh gasp, his lips parted with desire. “Perfection. That is what you are, sweet beauty. Look at how you glisten for me…feel how you tremble for me. Now I can smell how hot you are for me, too. So soft and luscious.”

  She looked at him through her lashes. There was nothing coy about it; desire had weighted her eyes too heavily. “All of it’s for you. All of me is for you.” She offered the words without hesitation, knowing that in that moment, she meant them. Since all they had was this moment, what could the harm be? It was yet another realization that unlocked more doors inside, setting her senses free to float yet higher…and her desire to follow right on their heels.