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Waking Up in Vegas(52)

By:Stephanie Kisner


We were both dusty and gritty, so when Jen grabbed me by the front button of my jeans and dragged me toward the shower, I followed like a puppy. And when she stripped off my shirt, I pulled her into a kiss that short-circuited my brain and had her grappling with my fly.

It was the moment that she dropped to her knees in front of me under the steamy spray and took me into her mouth that I knew, not only was she the one for me, but that I would do anything and everything I could think of to keep her in this city.

Because my God did she have a mouth on her.

I remember falling back against the wall of the shower and trying to find something to hang onto. I was knocking shampoo bottles everywhere and, finally, my hands landed on her head. She did this scraping thing with her teeth all the way up my shaft and I couldn’t stop my fingers from tugging hard on her hair. I gasped out an apology that I don’t think she heard because she moaned and took me all the way in; I felt the head of my dick bounce off her tonsils. She swallowed over me while she pressed with her tongue and I’m pretty sure I lost all conscious thought.

When I knew I was close to coming, I had a brief flicker of what it would be like to pull out and impale her against the wall, but my big head won out over my little one and I didn’t do it. With a groan I felt down to my toes, I gave Jen a warning so she could pull back, and God bless her, she stayed right where she was. My vision went sort of black and sparkly so I’m not sure if she swallowed or spit it out toward the drain.

By the time I returned the favor and she yanked my face into her so hard I almost suffocated (but what a way to go, yeah?), the water was barely warm and my legs were rubber.

Somehow, I still had enough energy to suggest drive-through burgers and a trip to her condo for pile number one.



“Why didn’t I save the stupid boxes?” Jen griped as she dumped an armload of clothes onto her bed at my house.

I was busy shoving her dresser through the doorway, so my reply came out on a grunt. “Because you didn’t expect to be moving again.”

“Well, yeah, there’s that. Still, I hate moving ghetto-style.”

We’d packed as much as we could into garbage bags and stuffed the lot of them around Jen’s dresser in the back of her SUV. The bedroom floor was now a sea of Hefty, preventing me from getting the chest of drawers any further into the room. “If you want this thing in here, you’d better move your white-trash suitcases.” She stuck out her tongue. “Guess you can crawl over it to get out, then,” I said as I backed down the hall.

She clambered up on top of the dresser, standing tall with her hands on her hips. “Not a big deal. However,” she said, kicking out a foot and leaning against the doorframe to look at which drawers were blocked, “I can’t get to my underwear. Guess I’ll have to go without.”

Yeah, like I’d let that comment go.

I stalked back, parking myself at the edge of the wood slab top. “That only makes it easier for me to get to what I want.”

Jen jumped off the other side. “First, you have to get to me.”

I gave the chest a shove and she stepped back. “Not a problem, Pixie.”

“What did you call me?”

Shit.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Spartacus.”

I narrowed my eyes and glared. Not that my given name was her fault, but she had to go and be typical, hauling it out as some sort of payback. “Who told you?”

“Nobody.”

“Spill, Jen, so I know who needs to die.”

“Settle down, big guy. I saw your electric bill on the kitchen table. What’s wrong with Spartacus?”

I flinched, and I know she saw it. “Nothing. If we were in ancient Greece. But since we’re not…” I squeezed through the doorway and stalked her as she backed to the far corner.

“Honestly, I like it. It suits you, even though it’s a mouthful.”

I was now completely infringing on her personal space, and all she did was kick her chin up a notch. I was instantly granite-hard. Damned woman didn’t play fair. “A mouthful, Jen?”

“Or a somewhere-else-ful.”

I locked my eyes on hers, tracing a fingertip along her jawline to the point of her chin, my thumb turning lazy circles over her bottom lip. “Do you want me, Jensen? Want me inside you, good and deep?” I asked in a low voice.

Her eyes darkened and she nodded just once.

“Then don’t go.”



Hello, Mt. St. Helens. She erupted at me, and my temper flared right back. Those reasons she gave for not taking the transfer when it was first offered? I fired them back at her. “What about not wanting to leave your new fans, your new friends—and me?”