Читать книгу What Happens In Vegas... - Lauren Dane - Страница 8

Your bed or mine?

I couldn’t believe I’d asked Jack that question. My pussy was dripping so badly with the need to feel him inside me I’d never be able to make it to my apartment. The rental house he shared with his brother, when one or both of them wasn’t on the clock and sleeping at the firehouse, was even farther away.

“Something the matter with the family bathroom down the hall?”

Hearing the desperation in his voice, I laughed. “I don’t trust the locks, and I’d never forgive you if some kid walked in and caught us.” I darted a glance around. We were already getting enough looks—both disapproving and lustful (only in Vegas would a stranger hope for a sex show in the hallway)—standing the way we were. Getting it on anywhere nearby was out of the question. That didn’t rule out upstairs.

Sweet relief jetted through me, coming to rest as liquid warmth between my tingling thighs. As much as I wanted to kiss him, I remembered how thoroughly and incredibly he wrecked me with that masterful tongue and I knew it would only tempt me to take more here and now. “Give me two minutes.”

Having connections with the front desk crew had its advantages. I was back in one-and-a-half minutes with two key cards for a suite on the seventeenth floor. Even with my employee discount, the suite was pricey, but tonight was about indulging, while getting back my friendship with Jack. I’d gladly dip into my “Dream B and B” piggy bank for that.

“Race you to the elevators,” I teased.

For the twenty seconds it took us to get to them, we were the bosom buddies of our youth, totally oblivious to raging hormones and the pleasure to be found in horizontal mambos. Then we reached the elevators and one of the cars pinged open. An older couple dressed to the nines in head-to-toe black stepped out, leaving the car empty. Jack yanked me inside, jabbing the “close door” button, followed by the “17” button.

He was on me the instant the doors slid shut. His mouth slammed over mine, his tongue pushing past my lips, devouring me with hungry little suckles I felt all the way to my throbbing core. His hands went to my waist, popping the button on my jeans and jerking the zipper down. I feverishly met each lap of his tongue, whimpering into the moist cavern of his mouth as the cool air of the overhead AC hit my hot, wet folds.

One big, rough finger parted my pubic curls to pet my slit from clit to perineum.

One stroke.

Two strokes.

My pulse spiked as warmth coiled low in my belly and chased its way up my torso. My pussy flooded with cream.

Three strokes.

Four strokes.

His tongue left mine to start a wicked dart and thrust game, and my toes curled expectantly in my heeled sandals. His finger pushed past my slit, lightly entering my sheath. The change in action pulled me from the hedonistic haze I’d sunken under the moment his lips touched mine, forcing me to acknowledge we were in a Liege elevator. And I was naked from midway up my thigh to nearly my belly button.

Wondering when Jack had inched my jeans and panties down, I lifted my lips from the sinner’s heaven of his mouth and managed in a throaty voice, “Jack! I work here.”

“Want me to stop?”

His finger sank into my creamy pussy, finding and fondling just the right spot—a spot whose existence Hank had been oblivious to—and I screeched out my bliss. “Fuck, no!”

His mouth returned to mine, consuming me with his lips and tongue and teeth as if going four months without me had left him starved. Another finger joined the first, thrusting into my sheath with hard, sure strokes meant to deliver me to happy land good and fast. Just the way he’d known I needed it the first time.

My mind spun as liquid fire licked through my body, pulsing a river of wet need deep in my pussy. My sex contracted around his skilled fingers. My hips bucked wildly, without any set rhythm. Tension barreled the length of my spine, shaking my legs. Orgasm was about to take me over.

He pulled his fingers out before it could.

“Jesus, Jack!” I wanted to slug him.

He laughed loudly, his eyes shining with arousal and amusement, then cut the sound off sharp to turn me around and push me up against the rich mahogany wood of the elevator’s side. The soft jingle of a belt buckle and the whisper of material against flesh registered seconds before he plowed into me from behind, his big cock finding its mark and delivering me to climax in a rush of dizzying sensation. I cried out, unable to keep my mouth shut no matter the risk of being caught.

He started thrusting then, driving his cock deep inside my pussy, igniting the sort of exquisitely intense pleasure only rear entry could accomplish.

“When you say ‘all in,’ you aren’t kidding,” I moaned, as sensation after heady sensation tore through me.

Rich male laughter reverberated inside the elevator car, while one of his hands cupped my breast through my shirt, finding and pinching my nipple. Hot need shot from the straining crown to my quivering sex. I curled my hands into fists against the side of the elevator as orgasm built anew.

Jack pulled free of me before I could erupt a second time.

I was ready to slug him for real, when he said in a voice thick as lava and twice as liable to burn me for the way it destroyed my ability to think straight, “We’re here.”

I looked over to discover the elevator doors open to reveal the pale gold shot with red and orange wallpaper of the casino’s seventeenth floor. Thankfully no one was standing there watching us. Not that I had a problem with exhibitionism, but I wasn’t ready to lose my job, not even over mind-blowing sex with Jack.

“Race you to the room.”

He made the suggestion this time, not in a teasing voice as I had but in a rough, strained one that said how fast he’d be inside me once we reached the suite. My clit fluttered with the thought and I tossed back, “Last one there owes me oral sex.”

“Can’t wait to see you go down on yourself,” he commented wryly, then started screwing around with tucking his cock back into his jeans.

I checked the hall and surmised no one was around. Pulling my jeans back up without bothering to shut them, or straighten my panties, I dashed to our suite and slid the key card through the lock mechanism. By the time the door was open, Jack was at my back. His hands came around my waist, lifting me an inch or two off the floor, and hurried me inside, kicking the door closed before setting me back against the wall next to it.

Eyes flashing with dark arousal, he shoved my jeans back down my hips, taking my panties with them. Pulling the lips of my pussy apart, he thumbed my clit. “You cheated.”

Trembling with his errant stroke and the way his sexy, raspy voice increased the hedonistic sensation, I buried my hands under his navy polo shirt. I pushed the shirt up and over his head to reveal mouthwatering, hard-packed muscle owed to ten years as a firefighter. Hoping I didn’t look too much like the proverbial Pavlovian dog, I splayed my fingers over his killer torso and laved my tongue across his small nipple, making it go erect. “You can’t wait to eat me out.”

Shivering with the damp swipe, he went down on his knees and blew on my parted pussy. Beneath his mustache, wicked intent curved his lips. “Then why bother waiting?”

My heart skipped a beat as his warm, rough hands cupped the sensitized flesh of my ass. In the next instant, his mouth covered my sex. He licked down the length of my slit, then back up again to circle my bloodred clit. My heart stampeded and I bit my fingernails into his shoulders, dying just a little with the raw way he made me feel, both physically and emotionally.

Christ, he could get to me.

Tears of ecstasy filled my eyes as he tormented me with the rough scrape of his mustache and then pushed his tongue deep inside me, fucking me fast again, hard again, knowing I’d want it that way, just one more time before the slow sweetness started.

Shudders of erotic pleasure built within my belly and worked their way to my pussy. I pinched my nails harder into his flesh, loving the idea of marking him as my lover, hating it all the same.

What the hell was I doing here with Jack?

Or maybe the better question was, “How could I have forgotten the way he’d made me feel the last time we’d been together?”

The emotions he’d surfaced in me that night were the real reason I’d stayed away from him for so long. Because I truly could see myself shacked up and tied down with Jack. After all the two-timing sleazebags I encountered on a daily basis at the bar, and hearing my father’s firsthand accounts of the way commitment ruined every one of his relationships and ultimately made my mother leave us, that scared the hell out of me.

Clearly that reality also scared the logic out of me because the next words out of my mouth were, “I missed you, Jack.”