Am I still a man-whore?
Running into Lucinda in Las Vegas all these years later, seeing her reminded Carson he hadn’t changed much. When he thought about it, he was still driving fast bikes and cars, indulging in good food, liquor, and women, with no intention of settling down. And he suddenly wondered whether that was a good thing.
Carson reluctantly agreed to Lucinda’s invitation to grab a drink together, and took her gently by the elbow to lead her back to the bar he’d just left. They had no sooner received their drinks than she was invading his personal space, much bolder than she had been in college.
“I’m in town for a conference, and since I have nothing holding me down at home, I thought I’d have just a touch of fun.” She winked and licked her lips.
She leaned into Carson, letting him know without a doubt that he was currently the brand of trouble she was looking for. He glanced up to see Victor smirking at them from behind the bar, confirming what he already knew, mainly that he was horny and lonely. Which was a very bad combination.
He answered, “Is that so?” Despite knowing it was the wrong choice, he winked back. It was halfhearted at best, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Definitely,” Lucinda purred. “I deserve it. I work hard, do it all on my own with no one having my back, and I’m a woman with many interests. Why not let loose?”
Lucinda was giving all the buying signs, but he wasn’t in the market. She droned on, not stopping to notice that Carson wasn’t even listening.
It was his own damn fault he was so desperate for a female’s attention or touch. He was the one tied in knots over a stripper—a beautiful woman with supple curves, all the right moves, and bluer-than-blue eyes so deep they revealed she was actually much more than who she appeared to be onstage.
A woman who was completely inaccessible to him and untouchable to everyone. Yet he was so hung up on her, he was about to head up to his hotel room by his lonesome without any intention of trying to find another woman or even take care of himself.
Carson shook his head, annoyed at himself and confused by his current disinterest in pursuing anything female. He knew it bore some type of significance. A meaning, perhaps, that he shouldn’t ignore.
If he had taken a longer drive before heading back to the hotel, maybe he wouldn’t have run into Lucinda. Unfortunately, he didn’t let the speed of his car take him away longer, and with tension still rippling through his body, he couldn’t help but react a little when Lucinda ran her hand over his chest. She was no longer a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, innocent coed. She was a grown woman now, and if she still had an itch when it came to him, perhaps he should scratch it.
At least, that was what he was thinking when he looked down and saw her red nails smoothing down the front of his white dress shirt. He imagined he could take her upstairs and have his way with her any way he pleased. While she was chatting his head off in the bar, he was envisioning a long night of tasting her, pushing inside her heat, and no telling what else.
His dick was saying yes, and his head was nodding in agreement.
Carson had nearly convinced himself to take her straight up to his room when Sienna Flower popped back in his mind. Her legs wrapped around the pole. Those long limbs, firm and toned, yet feminine. He couldn’t think about anything other than running his tongue up and down the length of her smooth skin.
Her body was soft in all the right places, especially her eyes. There was an understanding and a softness about them, as though she deeply cared about the crowd watching her dance. Sienna made each and every person in the audience feel special and unique. It was such a contradiction to what she did for a living, but it made Sienna Flower who she was. A stripper with the most trusting eyes he’d ever seen, making him wonder what she would be like in person, one-on-one.
With his head filled with floating images of Sienna dancing and batting her long lashes over her seductive blue eyes, Carson could no longer even stomach the thought of taking Lucinda upstairs.
Not because she wasn’t good-looking. Lucinda had matured into a beautiful woman, but she was so hard and direct, practically begging him to fuck her, that he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
When he finally reached his breaking point, he said, “Lucinda, it was so great seeing you, catching up and all, but I’m afraid I’m not very good company. I’m flat-out exhausted from all the travel I’ve been doing, and I have to catch some shut-eye.”
She pouted like a schoolgirl.
From the corner of his eye, Carson could see Victor containing his laugh by covering his mouth with his hand, then pretending to cough.