by Coco Miller
“No one touches her,” his voice deepens, and the boy I once knew disappears, and the man I love replaces him.
Duncan throws one punch, his muscular arm flying in the air as it hits the drunk man's cheek. My attacker falls over, smacking his head against the table and lays limp on the floor. Duncan rushes over to me and puts his jacket around my shoulders again.
“Are you okay?” he asks, checking me over for any injuries.
“I’m fine.”
“Why are you crying?” He brushes a tear away that drips down my cheek.
“I’ve never been in a situation like that before. I froze. I didn’t know he’d touch me. And when he did I couldn’t get away and no one was helping me, but then you came.” I stare at him through watery lashes.
He tugs me to his chest and embraces me in a gentle hold.
“Naomi, no matter how much time has passed I’ll always come for you. Always.”
“Naomi!” Mr. Salvatore pushes through the crowd that has formed and stares down at the prone body on the floor. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“That man sexually assaulted her. She’s done for the night.”
Security comes up to the scene next and pulls out handcuffs. “Is this true, ma’am?”
I nod burying my face in Duncan’s chest, my safe haven, the place that’s always felt like home.
After they carry the unconscious man off, I let out a deep breath. "I'm okay.” I go to take his jacket off when Duncan stops me.
“Keep it on. You’re done for the night, Naomi.”
“Duncan, I need to work.”
“Duncan is right, Naomi. Take the night off. We will see you the day after tomorrow," Mr. Salvatore says, handing me my earnings for the night. "Regardless of what just happened, you did well. Nearly three thousand. It's good to have you on the team."
He leaves me with a wad of cash and I have nowhere to put it. Duncan does that growly thing again.
“What now?” I ask him.
“I don’t like how he looks at you.”
He steers me away from the VIP room and waves toward Easton as we depart from the casino to the hotel.
“He’s my boss.”
“That means nothing,” he scoffs, keeping his arm around my shoulders as we walk side by side to the elevator. When the white plated doors open, the mirrored walls causes a mirage. It looks like there are a hundred of us in here, but it's just him and me in a small space, close, his breath on my nape, and my heartbeat thundering. "You're too beautiful to work in a place like this, Naomi.”
Does he think I'm beautiful?
Don’t get excited. Don’t get excited.
Duncan presses the button for the penthouse and I'm reminded why he and I would never work now. The boy I knew grew up with was just like me with no money, but now he is richer than sin and moves in a different world than I do. I’m not complaining, I think it’s incredible and I’m proud of him. But I’m still the same girl who grew up with nothing…and still has nothing.
He types in code when we get to the penthouse floor and when the doors open to the most beautiful place I've ever seen, he and I are alone. He’s the savior, the best friend, and I’m the girl pining for him in the worst of ways.
Years later it seems as if the circumstances have never changed, and I wish they would right now, but not all wishes come true even if he is my shooting star, my once in a lifetime, my dream guy.
Dreams are dreams for a reason.
They are a long shot on a lucky strike.
7
Duncan
I’m seething still. My hands are shaking from the amount of fury in my body. I never took my eyes off her, which ended up making me lose two-hundred-thousand dollars in the game but was worth it when I saw her in trouble.
I can’t stop seeing that asshole’s hands on her, squeezing her ass.
I take a shot of whiskey and slam my glass down the counter, wishing I could punch him in the face again. He touched something that didn’t belong to him. Something that is mine. She’s mine. She may not ever love me for more than a dear friend, but it doesn’t change how I feel.
“Duncan?” Her voice has a natural rasp to it soothing the anger sending me back to the dark.
“Yeah?” I turn around and see her clutching the coat together, hiding her body from me.
Her body.
That uniform.
I got so angry downstairs. All those men seeing how beautifully shaped she is from the swell of her breasts to the round curve of her ass. They saw it and I saw red. I have never seen that beautiful body I’ve fantasized over for years, and the first time I do is shared with every other man in that room.
She stepped in front of me in that skimpy thing they call a uniform, and I wanted to rip it off her, throw the chips off the blackjack table and fuck her right then and there, claiming her in front of everyone. But then everyone would see even more closely what was mine, and I couldn’t have that.
“Thank you for doing what you did. I feel so pathetic.” She places her hand on her cheek and then takes off my coat, laying it on the back of the stool.
I grab another glass and pour two fingers−worth in each. I hand it over to her while keeping a good grip on mine when I see her tits pushed up, the tops of those succulent mounds catching the kitchen light. Her skin has a deep golden tint to it, just under the surface of her luscious flesh. It almost shimmers. It looks so rich and delicious my mouth waters for a taste — only one little lick.
Internally, I groan. Who am I kidding? One taste would never be enough.
“Don’t feel pathetic. No one knows how they will react until put into a difficult situation. That guy was way out of line. No one should ever touch you like that.”
I down the whiskey I just poured in one gulp and then fill it to the rim. The urge to take her and kiss her is too much. I need to quash the desire. So many years of want, need, and desire are building up to a head. I'm about to blow.
“Maybe this job isn’t for me.” Naomi bends over and takes off a heel that’s way too high for anyone to walk on and she lets out a groan that makes my cock twitch. "Holy hell, these heels suck," she giggles.
Once she has the towers off, she’s back down to her height, short and sweet just how I like her. I take another swig and stroll over to the couch that overlooks the strip by the window.
“Come over here,” I say, patting the space next to me. “I’ll rub them for you.”
“Oh, a famous Duncan Gold foot rub,” she hobbles over, trying not to put pressure on the pads of her feet.
I roll my eyes from all the memories of giving her a foot massage. "I'm a little rusty. Last time I touched a woman’s feet were yours, prom night to be exact, because once again you wore heels too high."
“Pain is beauty,” she says, plopping on the couch. Naomi lays her feet on my lap and takes a sip of whiskey.
I gulp down half of my drink, preparing myself to touch her again after all these years. I’m feeling good, a bit tipsy from drinking four glasses so fast. I take one of her feet in my hands after setting the beverage aside and dig my thumbs into her heels.
She moans. The sound awakens something deep inside of me.
“Now, this is a life I can get used to,” she says, enjoying the massage.
I bend her toes, rubbing the tops of her pedicured foot. I never thought feet could be pretty but hers are. Even through her red stockings, I can see her toes are painted black, like always, her go-to color. She hasn’t changed too much and I like that. There are bits and pieces of who she is now that I still know.
I want to tell her that this can be her life. She can have whatever she wants if she’s with me.
If she wants to wake up and have mimosas every day while we sit on the balcony, from wherever in the world and have her feet rubbed?
Done.
She wants diamonds?
Done.
She wants heels she can hardly walk in?
I’ll buy her name brand or custo
m made—only the best for her.
I lay her foot down and retake my drink, downing the rest. I need more. Hell, I might as well drink out of the bottle.
“Need a refill? I’ll come back and do the other.”
She chugs the amber liquid and makes a face when her glass is empty. “Bleh, this stuff is disgusting.”
I chuckle, “It’s supposed to be savored, not rushed.” Just like Naomi.
“Then why are we chugging it?”
Because I can’t be sober around you; it's too much to bear. All the love I have for you. It hurts too much.
“It’s been a rough day,” I say instead, taking the half-empty bottle from the kitchen island and walking back over to her. I take a large drink from the bottle and hand it over to her, taking her other foot in my hand like I said I would. I imagine what her skin feels like under her stockings. It’s probably soft, so soft, like silk or velvet. I want nothing more than to peel this uniform off of her and feel her entire body against mine, sending me to heaven.
I'm not sure how long we’ve been like this, drinking, talking about old-times, but soon the bottle of whiskey is gone, and both of us are laughing until tears are leaking from our eyes.
“Remember when you stayed in a canoe all night, naked, on a dare? By the time we found you the next morning, you were across the lake. We had to get another boat to get you.” She holds her stomach as she laughs, the sweet harmonic sound is music to my ears. “I can’t believe you did that.”
I stop massaging and start to draw lazy circles on the top of her foot. “I wanted to look brave for you. I would have done anything to have you see me the way I saw you.”
Crap, I didn’t mean to say that. Crap. I grab the bottle and turn it up, forgetting that it’s empty.
“Let me get another bottle.” When I get up to stand, I sway and fall back down. “Never mind.”
Her laughter comes to an end and she looks at me with big, round eyes. The contrast between her forest green irises and her skin is so beautiful. God, I could look into her eyes forever if she let me.
“What do you mean? What did you just say?”
“Nothing,” I shake my head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. I remember that next morning. I was freezing but when I saw you the next day, covering me with a blanket, it was all worth it.”
Shit, maybe I should have stayed sober. My tongue is way too loose.
Naomi crawls onto her knees and pushes a piece of her hair behind her ear.
“Duncan, what did you say?”
“Nothing. Really. It’s nothing.” I squeeze my eyes shut as the room starts to spin and rub my fingers over them. “Ignore me,” I say.
“It’s everything,” she says, swinging her legs over my lap until she straddles me.
I swallow loudly and tilt my head back as she hovers over me, her fingers running through the back of my hair. I’ve dreamed of this since forever. This can’t be happening. I’m asleep. It’s a dream. Maybe she’s really drunk too.
“Tell me again,” she whispers against my lips. “Tell me, Duncan. Please. Please don't tell me that after so many years of thinking you didn't love me that you did. Don't tell me we spent years wanting each other and did nothing about it.”
My hands lay on either side of her hips, the rough material of her stockings scratches against my wrist. I hardly feel it. I’m too focused on how my fingers wrap perfectly around her waist as if she was sculpted just for me. My eyes travel from the space between her legs, hovering over my rock hard cock, sliding up her body until my eyes meet hers.
“Tell me,” she says, nearly begging.
“Marry me.” The words are out of my mouth before I can tell her what she wants to hear. My hands run up and down her torso, curving over the side of her breasts.
“What?” she leans back, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and I get a whiff of that sweet scent that’s made me unable to love anyone else.
“Marry me. I love you. You wanted to hear it, right? I love you, I’ve always loved you, I’ve never been able to love anyone. Marry me.”
She silently stares at me in shock as her whiskey laden breath mixes with mine. The silence becomes thick, causing my heart to sink. I said to much.
“It’s crazy. We are drunk—”
“Yes.”
I sit forward, cupping her face with my hands as I dart my eyes over her face. “Say it again.”
“Yes, Duncan. Yes. I love you too. It’s always been you.”
I grip the back of her head and smash her mouth against mine. Finally. Finally! Her lips are softer than I dreamed. She opens her mouth as I turn my head, and I use the opening to shove my tongue inside her hot cavern, dancing our tongues together.
She rocks against my cock, whimpering into my mouth as I wrap my arms around her tighter, pulling her closer to me, so there is no space between us.
"I love you," I repeat, thrusting my hips up so my cock finds the space between her legs.
The desire coursing through my veins makes me feel like a teenager jacking off to the thought of her. And just like a randy, uncontrollable teen, she dry humps me, stroking her clit along my sheathed cock, soaking my pants with her juices.
“Oh, god!” she cries, breaking her lips free of mine. “Duncan.” She bites her lips as she stares at me, rocking.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Until my balls pull tight and my cock swells further, preparing to come. I bury my head between her breasts and lick the space between. I try to yank the top of the corset down, but it’s too tight. I growl in frustration, wishing I could cut the top off, but there is no time. She is panting harder, faster, curling her fingernails into my chest.
“I’m going to come,” she whimpers. “Duncan.”
“Do it, baby. Come. Come for me. Let me see how good I make you feel,” I say, biting into the swell of her tit, marking the flesh as mine.
Her hips stutter as she leans back, the ends of her hair tickling my knuckles as I hold her hips down. I thrust my cock up, hitting her clit with every stroke until she finally cries out. My name falling off her lips. Naomi grabs her breasts as she rides out the waves of ecstasy.
“Duncan,” she whispers, and that’s all it takes for me to unload, coming in my pants.
I throw my mouth against hers, grunting my release as stream after stream floods my briefs. My hips continue to thrust, wishing I was planting myself deep inside her channel, right to the tip of her womb.
“Finally,” she says, her body shaking against mine as we both come down from our high.
The alcohol is roaring through me, the only left to do is get this woman to marry me.
“Let's not waste another minute," I say, kissing her hairline. "We're in Vegas. Let's get married now."
Naomi swings her legs off me, and I notice my lap is soaked with her juices and mine. A part of me is thinking about taking her now so I can taste her, but she fluffs her hair and holds out her hand.
“I think we’ve waited long enough,” she slurs, the whiskey catching her tongue.
Way too fucking long.
8
Naomi
"Do you take this man to be your hunk of burning love, for now, and always, through sickness and in health?"
The Elvis officiant does his classic signature move, spreading his arms out as he takes turns bending each knee and curling his lip. I was never a big Elvis fan but even I have to admit this is exciting.
I’m getting married.
Holy freaking crap!
My brain is a pile a mush, and I'm convinced this is all a dream but I go with it.
"I do," is my response as I squeeze Duncan's hands.
“And do you take this woman to be your own little Priscilla? For now and always, through sickness and in health?”
He repeats his move again; his custom outfit has a cape on the back that flutters when he spreads his arms.
“I definitely do,” Duncan says.
What a nightmare it
would have been if he said no.
“By the power vested in me and the state of Nevada, you are now husband and wife. You can kiss your bride!”
The piano plays a happy tune (some variation of an Elvis tune), and everyone waiting to get married behinds us claps.
“Fucking finally,” Duncan says and pulls me into a toe-curling kiss.
My foot does the most cliché things and lifts behind me as Duncan sweeps me off my feet.
“I love you,” the whiskey sitting in the back of his throat says.
“And I love you.”
We lay our foreheads together for a few seconds before he takes my hand and tugs me behind him as we run out of the chapel. We stumble a bit, tripping over our feet from the amount of liquor we’ve had.
"We need rings," he says, dragging me outside the doors into the chaos of the shops nestled inside the hotel. “The best rings. Only the best for you, baby.”
He spins me around in a circle, dancing with me in a crowd of hundreds. “What do you want? Diamonds? Your birthstone? Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
He twirls me until my hands land on his chest. It’s a good thing he has a hold on me because I’m feeling light-headed. I’m not sure if it's from the booze or from how happy I am, but either way, it isn’t a bad thing.
“I have what I want. I have you. It’s all I need.”
He grins, showing that boyish smile I fell I love with all those years ago. “While that’s sweet, I need everyone to see that my woman is taken.”
I glance down thinking about my dream ring when I’m reminded of what I’m wearing. My uniform. I still resemble a hooker.
“Can I get a new outfit first before we go shopping?”
“I don’t know,” he bites his bottom lip. "I like this one…a lot."
Duncan spins me again and makes a hum of an appreciation.
"But whatever my wife wants, she gets. But first, I want a kiss."
Oh, what a horrible deal. I place a long, soft kiss against his lips and sigh. Nothing can get better than this.
“Come on.”
He drags me from store to store, and while I’m trying on dresses that cost more than I’ll ever make in my life, he buys a bottle of champagne, and again, we drink it without glasses.