Up in Flames(5)

I jerked her shirt up and grabbed a handful of the tits I’d admired during lunch. She was more than a handful. I loved tits of all sizes, but the bigger ones were fun to play with.

She lifted her knees and opened more for me, leaning back so I had full access to her rack. This one wasn’t new to bathroom sex. Guess it was a good thing I was using that condom.

“That’s it, baby, squeeze my dick,” I murmured, before pulling a nipple into my mouth and sucking hard. I was going to have to pay her another visit. She knew how to work that pussy.

“I . . . oh, God . . . I’m gonna come.” She panted, making her tits jiggle. As hot as she looked, I knew a scream was coming with that orgasm.

I grabbed her head and pressed her mouth into my chest, as I rode her harder until her muffled scream was followed by her shaking body. When her orgasm clamped down on me, I followed right behind her.

The highlight of my afternoon.

And I didn’t even remember her name.





Nan


It was afternoon when I finally opened my eyes.

The blackout shades worked wonders. It still felt like it was dark outside. I rolled over to check my phone and saw that I had one missed call from Major and a text.

If you’re pissed, I can fix it. I’ve been busy. Call me.

I tossed my phone onto the bed beside me and sighed. This was what he always did. He thought being cute and funny fixed the fact that he sometimes ignored me for days. After dancing for hours last night with Gannon Roth, I wasn’t sure Major would ever be enough for me. I’d had a taste of a real man, and I liked it a lot.

Major’s hot-and-cold act was old. Gannon was warm and big and smelled like sex. Not that we had any. He had danced with me and bought me a few drinks, and then we’d sat in a corner and talked for the rest of the night, before he asked for my number and left. He hadn’t even tried to go to my room or get me to go to his.

I was almost insulted, until I let myself think about the night we’d had together. He’d been a gentleman throughout. He hadn’t spoken much, but he’d appeared to like listening to me talk. Major thought it was his job to be entertaining and do all the talking. I rarely got the impression that the conversation was working both ways.

My phone vibrated again, and I reached over to pick it up, already rolling my eyes and assuming it was another text from Major. But it wasn’t.

It’s Gannon. You hungry?

It was my guy. And he was asking me to lunch.

I tossed the covers back and jumped out of the bed, before realizing I needed to respond to him.

Just waking up. I can be ready in an hour, I replied, hoping that wasn’t a lie. An hour didn’t give me much time.

I’ll meet you at the Starbucks downstairs.

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. “You have an hour to make yourself hot. Tonight you’re bringing him back to this suite.”

See you there, I texted back.



An hour later, by a sheer miracle, I stepped out of the elevator and headed toward the Starbucks. Gannon stepped forward, and the rest of the world faded away. He had this insanely intense air about him that commanded attention. His beard was trimmed shorter, and his dark hair was pulled back in a man bun. I liked that. A whole freaking lot.

His gaze was locked on me, and it made me feel beautiful and important. I liked that, too. I wanted more of it.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Morning. Sleep well?” he asked.

“Yes, but I think the vodka had a hand in that.”

He smirked. I loved the way his mouth looked when he did that. “I imagine it did.” His hand settled on my lower back, and he began moving us toward the main exit. “I’ve got a car waiting and reservations at my favorite spot here for breakfast.” He was in control. I liked that, too. Major and I always argued over where to eat. This was different. Almost a relief. It made me feel less on edge.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had breakfast in Vegas. Do places still serve breakfast this late in the day?”

He let out a low chuckle. “Of course. Who gets up early in Vegas?”

He had a point. I doubted a breakfast place got much business before eleven around here. “I guess that makes sense,” I replied, as he opened the door of a black Mercedes G-class.

“After you.”

I climbed in, and he closed the door and got in on the other side.

The driver didn’t speak but pulled forward as if he knew where he was going.

A phone vibrated in Gannon’s pocket, but he ignored it. Instead, he leaned back and watched out the front window as the car drove down the Strip.

“Where is this place?” I asked, curious as we turned off the main Strip.

“Old Vegas,” he replied. “My favorite part.”