Claiming Atlas (Completely Rocked Book 1)

by Jessalyn Jameson

  “I’m exhausted, Scar. I’m sorry.”

  She narrows her green eyes at me. “You’re going to bring your A game out on Friday, right?”

  “Of course.” I smile, then nod toward the door of the hotel. “You’re okay if I leave you with Brandon and what’s-his-butt?”

  “Yes.” She sighs, smiling lazily. “I think I’m in love with him.”

  I groan. “Oh, Scarlet.”

  “What, Kayla? I’m not stupid, okay? I know we just met, obvs. But this feels so different.”

  She’s not stupid. Really she’s not. What she is, however, is a hopeless romantic. The most hopeless romantic in the entire freaking world, and in this industry, that means heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak. We’ve done this dance before. These guys don’t come to Vegas to fall in love. They come to Vegas to fall in lust.

  There’s a pretty huge difference there that Scar has yet to learn.

  I sigh and give her a small smile. “I hope it works out. When are you seeing him again?”

  “Friday night. He’s coming in for your last show, then we’re all going out afterwards.”

  “All?” I don’t want to know the answer. If she says Brandon’s douchebag friend is extending his trip, I’m on the first flight to Bangkok.

  She rolls her eyes. “Yes, silly. Like we’re going to let you escape celebrating your retirement with your friends.”

  Friends. Plural. Who else is in on this plan to force me to go out?

  My phone chimes to alert me that my driver has arrived, so I give Scar a quick squeeze and kiss her on the cheek. “Be good tonight.”

  “The best he’s ever had.”

  I snort and shake my head as I climb into the car. “Text me if you’re not coming home!” I shout as I watch her strut back into the club.

  Right into inevitable devastation. Maybe I’ll ask my Lyft driver to stop at the store so I can be fully stocked with red zin and New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream. It’s not a matter of if we’re headed for Heartbreak Town; it’s a matter of when. And I’d like to be prepared.

  Chapter Eight

  Atlas

  My phone rings for the seventieth time in the last two hours. Word got out that I’m here and I won’t be able to hole up in this room much longer. I think it’s Friday, which means I’ve cocooned myself in this hotel room for nearly two whole days.

  It ain’t like Vegas has anything new to show me, and I must have been exhausted if I needed this much sleep. Usually I wait to crash and burn after the tour’s ended, but we’re close to the finish line. Vegas has two nights, Sunday and Monday, and then we’re off for three months.

  Shit, I guess I should figure out what I’m doing with the next three months of my life. I haven’t been to Europe in a while... maybe I’ll drag Red’s fat ass to his homeland and we can drink beer and fuck hot redheads all damn day.

  I listen for any noise coming from the rest of the suite. The familiar clack of pool balls tells me Red’s out there enjoying his favorite past time.

  Dragging myself out of bed, I get ready to face the day.

  Er, night. It’s probably nighttime by now, yeah? I decline the call then look at the time. Yep. I’ve slept for a good long while. It’s just after ten pm.

  I step over to the windows, then pull the blackout curtains open and look outside. Hands on my hips, I stretch, giving anyone below who’s smart enough to look up an uninhibited view of my dick. “Good morning, Vegas.”

  I grab my cell and dial Dave.

  He answers on the second ring. “Atlas, my man. So the rumors are true? You’re in town?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “And the rest of the boys?”

  “Nah. They’re almost here though. I hopped a plane. Had to get off that damn bus.”

  “Yeah, man, I can get that. What can I get for you tonight? Party favors? Ladies?”

  “No party favors for me, man. Trying to cut back on the booger sugar.”

  “All right, all right, let’s see...” There’s a long pause and the sound of papers shuffling as Dave likely looks over his roster. “Oh, right on, looks like Cambria is working tonight.”

  I close my eyes and try to recall which one that is. “She hot?”

  “The hottest.”

  “Send her over. I’m at the Rock.”

  Dave chuckles. “Paradise Penthouse?”

  “Always.”

  “Man, you know there are other hotels in Veg—”

  I end the call, cutting Dave off before he can finish, but I’ve heard it all before. Everyone’s always coming out here to stay at the newer places, and I’m stuck on my old favorite. But, hey, when you find something you like, you stick with it, yeah? There are plenty of penthouses in Vegas, but this one is mine. I’ve stayed in the Paradise penthouse the last three times we’ve come to town. It feels like home as much as a hotel on the road can feel like something you’ve never truly known.

  And no, that apartment in Stanton doesn’t really count, I left that shithole when I was sixteen and never looked back. What even is home anyway?

  Here at the Rock, I’ve got a pool table for when I feel like fucking around, a plush bed when I feel like fucking, and my own private pool if I feel like fucking in water.

  I send Dave a quick follow-up text.

  Me: Bring champagne

  Dave: 2 bottles of Dom, coming right up.

  Me: Make it 3

  I set the phone on the charging pad on the nightstand, then walk to the door of my room and open it to peek my head out. “Red!”

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “I’m expecting a visitor. Send her in when she gets here.”

  “Sure thing,” he calls.

  I close the bedroom door and make my way to the giant marble bathroom; time to shower, shit, and shave.

  There’s a knock on my door exactly twenty minutes later. I look in the mirror at the three days’ worth of five o’clock shadow. She got here before I could get to the final step in my routine. I nod at my reflection and pucker my lips. I’ll just rock the beard stubble. Fuck it.

  I tighten the towel around my waist and shake extra drops of water from my hair, then walk to the door and haul it open.

  Her black hair is streaked with blonde, and her skin is naturally tanned. I focus on her face, studying her features. She’s Puerto Rican; I’d bet my life on it. Fuck me... if she has an accent, I’m one lucky little sonofabitch tonight.

  She’s dressed in a pale beige sweater dress with a thick weave that perfectly shows the outline of her tits.

  Taut nipples strain to poke through the fabric.

  I meet her gaze and nod my approval.

  She smiles, then holds up a bottle of Dom. “Are you going to invite me in, or should we just fuck out here in the living room?”

  I smile, considering, then look past her at Red. “What do you think, bro, you want us to give you a little show?”

  Red rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then lines up for his next shot.

  “Your loss.” I look back at her and raise my eyebrows. “Come in.” I step aside and watch her walk in, then close the door.

  She stops at the desk and turns around, then leans her butt against it and stares at me while she opens the champagne. “Is that a rocket in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

  The champagne cork flies out with a loud pop, and as the bubbles start to spill over, she brings the bottle to her lips.

  I unwrap my towel and let it fall to the floor.

  Her eyes widen and she lowers the bottle to focus on my dick. When she licks her lips, I smile in amusement. “Ready for lift off when you are.”

  She giggles, then steps toward me, never taking her gaze off my cock. When she’s just a foot away, she extends her arm, offering me the bottle. I bring it to my lips, then watch her kneel before me as I take a long swig of champagne.

  “Permission to come aboard, sir?” she asks, her voice playful but her eyes hungry as fuck. Oh yeah, she’s goo
d.

  “Permission granted.”

  I take another long pull of the champagne and she takes a long pull of my dick. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back as she slides her lush lips around me and takes my full length. When she gags, I freeze, waiting to see if she’ll ease up like they usually do. Instead, she pushes past the gag reflex and takes me deeper. When the tip of my dick hits the back of her throat, she moans, and I grip her head with my free hand.

  Looking down at her, I hold her gaze while I guide her mouth up and down my cock.

  When my dick throbs from fullness and my leg starts to twitch, I pull her head back. She licks at the tip of my dick, then sucks the pre-cum from the tip as she looks up at me.

  “Bed. Now.”

  She grins and rises quickly, then turns toward the bed.

  I focus on her ass and the way it sways in that dress. “Wait.”

  She pauses.

  Good girl. “Strip for me on your way. Slowly.”

  She looks over her shoulder at me and smiles, then starts slowly lifting her sweater dress over her head. It’s rare that a chick I hook up with has skin untouched by tattoos—sometimes tattoos of my name or face, which is unsettling as fuck—and I kinda dig it. So smooth and ready to be marked.

  By me.

  “Wait.”

  She stops again, so obedient.

  I close the distance between us and run my hand down her spine. Her skin is soft and cool to the touch, twitching beneath my fingertips. “Fucking beautiful,” I whisper. I lean forward, bringing my lips to her shoulder, then inhale deeply as I tease her skin with my teeth.

  She sucks in a breath.

  I run my hand down to her ass crack, then place the bottle on a side table and use both hands to trace the fullness of her cheeks. I squat, bringing my face level with her ass. “I’m going to fuck you now. While looking at this perfect ass.” I smack it gently on one side then again on the other, then stand and press my dick between the crease of her cheeks. “Go climb on the bed on all fours.”

  She does as she’s told, and I follow behind her, stopping only briefly to grab a condom off the top of the nightstand.

  Positioning myself behind her, I lean against the bed. “Spread your legs.” I open the package and slide the rubber down as she spreads her legs further. “Reach back and spread your cheeks.”

  She does so, exposing her puckered little asshole. I climb up onto the bed and press my thumb against it, then slide my other fingers over her wet lips, teasing her clit until she starts to wiggle and her breathing increases.

  “I’m so wet for you. Do you feel that?”

  “Don’t talk.”

  I slide three fingers inside her and pound them hard into her while I stroke my cock with my other hand. She moans and her body starts to clench around my fingers, so I pull out and bring the tip of my dick to her soaked pussy lips. I slide back and forth and she pushes back, begging me to finish what I started.

  “Fuck my ass,” she pants.

  My eyebrows climb slowly up my forehead. Well, yes, ma’am.

  You don’t have to tell me twice.

  I spread her cheeks apart and spit on that pert little asshole, then press my dick against it, easing in slowly. She pushes back, releasing a garbled moan as I take the initiative and start pounding into her ass.

  I was already close to finishing in her mouth, and she’s so fucking tight that I’m ready to come after three hard thrusts. I grip her hips and hold her still as I release into her. She reaches back and fingers her clit a few times, tickling my balls in the process, then she arches and comes all over my fucking legs and bed.

  PSA of the day: Sometimes it just makes sense to hire a fucking professional.

  Chapter Nine

  Kayla

  Brandon lives in Summerlin North, which is a good thirty minutes from our apartment, in a gated community with a security guard who only slightly hassles me before finally discovering my name on the list.

  Scarlet owes me big for this one. I should have had her call a ride service at the very least.

  I pull up in front of the giant house and send Scar a quick text to let her know I’m here. My phone dings with her response just as I see her slipping outside and closing the door behind her.

  This is the first I’ve seen Scar since I left her with Brandon and Chad on Wednesday night. She’s wearing one of Brandon’s dress shirts and carrying her heels in her hand as she makes her way down the long driveway from his house. He may break her heart, but if that grin on her face is any indication, the pain will be quite worth it.

  She climbs in and buckles up, swiveling in the seat to face me.

  As I resume driving, she sighs loudly.

  “Well?” I prompt.

  “I’ve just been very properly fucked.”

  I nearly choke. “Jesus, Scarlet. Congratulations?”

  “They’re definitely in order.”

  From my peripherals, I can see her open up the button-down shirt. “Look.”

  We come to a stop sign and I glance at her chest, then quickly take a longer look. There are hickeys on both breasts. “Scar, you can’t go to work like that. What were you thinking?”

  She giggles. “I wasn’t.” As she buttons up the shirt again, she leans her head back and sighs happily. “I haven’t had a coherent thought for two whole days.”

  “That good, huh?”

  She doesn’t answer right away, so I glance to my right and meet her leveled gaze. “Better.”

  “Still.” I shake my head. “You can’t go to work like that.”

  She dismisses my words with a flick of her wrist. “I’ll use someone’s tattoo makeup. It will be fine.”

  “Scarlet.”

  She groans; she knows I’m right. “Okay, it’s fine. I don’t even need to work. It’s your night anyway. I wouldn’t want to take away any of the spotlight.” I look at her and she winks. “Plus, Brandon is coming in, so I’d rather just chill with him, you know?”

  Frowning, I pull onto the highway. “And the Shakespears Sister routine? You’re going to, what, let me do it alone?”

  Scar shakes her head. “You know me better than that, babe. I would never leave you hanging.” She looks out the window, one hand on her breast like she’s reliving how those hickeys got there in the first place. “I’ll just keep the corset on.”

  We ride in silence the rest of the way. This is one of those times I keep my mouth shut for fear of saying something I’ll regret. And she seems content enough in her memories of the last few days, so I’ll let her have them. He hasn’t broken her heart yet, so I’ll keep my nose out of it.

  I pull into our complex and park in my designated spot, then look at her as I turn off the car. “You have an hour to wash the last forty-eight hours off your body and get ready for tonight. Think you can do it?”

  She laughs as she climbs out of the car, giving me an uninhibited view of her thighs. “Can I?” she asks, still laughing. “Yes. Do I want to?” She pulls Brandon’s shirt up to her nose to smell what’s left of his cologne on the fabric, and I gasp. I’m eye level with my best friend’s vagina.

  She’s full commando beneath that dress shirt.

  “Scarlet!” I shriek. “Kids live in this complex!” I get out of the car and look around for any onlookers.

  “Relax, Kayla, it’s just a vagina.”

  WE’VE BEEN AT THE CLUB for a few hours now, and I’m making bank. Every time the DJ announces that it’s my last night here, or anywhere for that matter, I swear my tips multiply like little green bunnies. I’m even doing the lap dance rounds tonight, giving the customers one last hurrah before I go. So many familiar faces have stopped by tonight, and as the clock creeps closer to midnight, my career winds to an end.

  It feels... odd.

  I’m not sad as much as I feel almost... nothing. Apathy?

  It’s just kind of meh.

  I don’t know what I expected, but I was hoping for some epic emotion tonight, some irreplaceable, can’t
ever feel it again feeling. Something to really carry with me as I move back home and start my new life.

  It’s time for my last routine, and I picked my favorite one for the final show. But as I go through the motions, getting into my Victorian era character, I can’t ignore the ache of disappointment. This should feel different, right?

  “Oh no. I know that look.” Scar walks into the dressing room and sits beside me at the long vanity. “What’s wrong? You’re overthinking something.” She narrows her eyes and searches my gaze in the reflection in the mirror.

  I laugh and cake more white makeup onto my face. “Usually.”

  “Well, spill. We have a few minutes before we go out there.”

  I glance at the clock on the wall behind me, then turn on my stool to look at her. “Um, we have exactly fifteen minutes, at most, and you’re nowhere near looking like the dark haired seductress I need for this song.”

  She winks. “Watch this.” She stands quickly and strips out of her tiny black dress, standing naked before me, giving me Spirit Fingers. “There. Seductive enough for you?”

  Shaking my head, I focus my attention on my reflection. “Yes, save for those hickies all over your tits.”

  Scarlet giggles, then strolls to her locker and starts getting into her black corset and thong.

  I’ve caked on plenty of white face makeup, so eyelashes as black as the night and twice as long are the final touch. While I secure them in place, Scar walks up behind me, holding her arms out to her sides. “Better?”

  I smile. “Yes.”

  She sits back down and darkens her eye makeup, adding extra black shadow and liquid liner, then finishing up with her own false lashes. “So, what’s going on in that overthinking brain?”

  I sigh, then swivel my seat so I can face her.

  She stops what she’s doing when I don’t say anything, then turns to me with one eyelash strip hanging from her right eye. She blinks repeatedly so it bounces up and down.

  I laugh, then shake my head. “I thought I’d feel different tonight.”