Vegas, Baby: Complete Series

by Fiona Davenport

  A large part of me was clamoring to pounce on Belle and sate the beast only she could unleash inside me. But a stronger part, the one that was ruled by love rather than lust, was determined to take my time, to admire the incredible gift my wife had given me. She’d obviously put a lot of time and effort into it, and I wanted her to know what they meant to me.

  When I turned the second to last page, I noticed something different. Belle was a ways away, sitting with her back facing the camera and her hands buried in her hair, holding it all up so it was piled on top of her head.

  Several years ago, Belle had surprised me by having my name and Cyra’s inked on the back of her neck. After Brand was born, she’d added his name to the list. I’d kissed that spot so many times, there was no way I could have missed the fact that it suddenly looked different. I bent close and stared hard. It looked like there was more writing.

  “Turn the page, Griffith,” she said softly. I did as she asked. The last picture was a close-up, so it was easy to read the script.

  Griffith

  Cyra

  Brand

  Jude

  My mouth dropped open, and I twisted around to see Belle sitting naked in the same position as the photo, her slender neck on display. “Jude?” I croaked. We’d talked about that name…because it worked for either a boy or a girl…I swallowed hard. “Baby, are you pregnant?”

  She dropped her hair and faced me, a luminous smile gracing her face. “Surprise!” I was so shocked; I didn’t even get distracted by her naked tits swaying when she moved. Mostly. “We’re having a baby! It was so hard not to tell you. I wouldn’t have been able to hide it except this baby doesn’t seem to make me throw up as often as the other two and—” Her rambling stopped when my mouth crashed down on hers.

  Only a few minutes later, we were both naked, and I was buried deep inside my incredible wife. I set her astride me so I could watch her ride, her big tits bouncing, her hair floating all around her. I placed a palm over her belly and surged up as she came down. I didn’t know what it was about fucking her while she was knocked up. It was like a primal instinct, knowing I’d bred my woman, it drove me wild and tossed all of my control out the window.

  “Fuck, baby,” I groaned. She was always tight, but I could’ve sworn that when she was pregnant, it was almost like she was a virgin every time. “Your pussy is like a fucking vice.”

  “So good, Griffith,” Belle moaned as she began to gyrate above me.

  I sat up and took one of her nipples in my mouth. The memory of how they tasted when she was feeding our babies caused come to leak from my dick. I loved on her other breast for a minute, mumbling, “I love sucking these fat nipples when you’re dripping with milk. I can’t wait to taste all that sweetness again.”

  Belle shuddered, and her inner walls started to spasm. Suddenly, I lifted her off my cock and brought her up so that she was sitting on my face. I swiped my hand over the cake sitting on the table beside us and smeared it all over her pussy. All it took was a couple of licks and a hard suck on her clit to set her off. She cried out my name over and over as I ate up every bit of the sweet dessert, made only more delicious from her own honeyed taste.

  I worked her up until she was on the edge again, then flipped her to her side and scooted over until my front was plastered to her back. I hooked one of her legs back over mine, opening her wide and thrust deep inside her. I set a hard and fast pace, but when I moved her hair away and saw the tattoo, something inside me melted and our movements became less frantic. I kissed each name as I made love to her. I slid my hand over her belly, resting my palm there and whispering how much I adored her, our kids, our life. Telling her how happy I was about the new baby.

  Belle’s back bowed a heartbeat before she fell apart. Her pussy clamped down on my cock and dragged me with her. Her name erupted from my mouth with a roar as I poured everything I had into her.

  The frantic feeling returned, and I rolled us over so that she was on her stomach. “Fuck! Fuck! Oh, fuck, yeah!” I started pounding in and out, hard and fast. “One more, baby,” I growled. In a flash, we were both coming again.

  I was practically drowning in the tumultuous waves of bliss crashing over me. Breathing was a struggle, but the nirvana I was experiencing kept me from giving a single fuck.

  When we finally began to float back down to earth, we fell into an exhausted, sweaty heap. I held her close, my hand brushing up and down her back, occasionally tracing the names on her skin.

  “I love you,” Belle whispered.

  “Baby, love isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for you.”

  She snuggled back into me and since I was still inside her, my dick started to stir. I groaned. “You need to be still. I don’t have the energy to fuck you again.”

  Belle snorted, and I smiled into her hair. “Liar.”

  I lifted my head and grinned devilishly down at her. “Maybe you’re right. Besides, I still owe you a birthday spanking.”

  Extra Epilogue

  Belle

  I didn’t have an ounce of musical talent in my entire body, but I’d given birth to three talented musicians. I’d even go so far as to say that Cyra, Brand, and Jude were musical prodigies. Cyra had the voice of an angel and only needed to hear a song a few times before she was able to mimic the artist. She had only been six when she did a perfect imitation of Rolling in the Deep by Adele, stunning her dad and me with her talent. A month later, she started lessons with a vocal coach who improved her pitch and range to astounding levels.

  Brand picked up one of Griffith’s guitars when he was four and started teaching himself how to play. Without help from anyone, it only took him six months to master the hit song that had launched Rising Phoenix into stardom. When he and Griffith started to jam together, his ability to learn a new song

  Jude was three when Bex bought him a drum set for his birthday. I’d wanted to strangle Griffith’s bandmate for picking a present that was bound to drive me up the wall, but Jude eventually proved me wrong. Shoving the box on the top shelf of his closet hadn’t done any good, he still asked about it every day. After a month of putting him off, Griffith took pity on him and set them up in the soundproof recording studio in the basement so he could bang on them as much as he wanted without the rest of us having to listen to the noise. Each day when his brother and sister were at school, I’d take him down there for an hour to play—watching him through the window from the control room with the volume off. It wasn’t until I accidentally bumped into a button a year later that I heard him play and realized how good he was.

  And now I was sitting in the same chair ten years later, barely holding back tears as I listened to my three babies as they made beautiful music together.

  Griffith pulled one of the ear pads of his headphones to the side and asked, “Are you going to be able to keep it together long enough for them to finish?”

  I sniffled and nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  He grinned at me as he inched up one of the sliders on the digital mixer in front of him. “They’re so damn good.”

  The smile I beamed at him was watery. “I’ve never heard a song like this before.”

  “They came up with their own sound.” He shook his head. “I never would’ve guessed that blending each of their influences would turn out like this. Their taste in music is so different. When Cyra told me what they had planned for this song, I was worried the competing styles would clash. I couldn’t have been more wrong, and I’m so damn glad that I kept that shit to myself.”

  Griffith was very careful to never give the kids music advice when they didn’t ask. When I’d asked him about it, he’d explained that he never wanted them to feel as though they were living in the shadow of his success. There would be plenty of people who would compare them to their dad, and there was no escaping the limelight since Griffith was a legendary rock star. He wanted the kids to know that he respected them as musicians, just like he would anyone else in the business—even if it meant biti
ng his tongue when he thought they were making a mistake. “You’re such a good dad.”

  “Thanks, baby. But you made it a fuck of a lot easier by giving me amazing kids and being the best mom in the world.” He pulled off his headphones as the last note of their song hung in the air. “It’s hard to admit, but they’re already better than we were when Rising Phoenix was starting out. And they’re only teenagers.”

  “Not for long. Cyra will be twenty next week,” I sighed, getting teary-eyed again.

  “Fuck me,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “How did they grow up so damn fast?”

  Our children piled out of the recording room, almost bumping into each other when they came to an abrupt stop in front of their dad. Cyra’s face was lit up with joy, her smile wide as she rubbed her hands together. Brand bit his bottom lip and crossed his arms over his chest. Jude tapped on his thigh, probably still caught up in the beat from their song. Ever the big sister, Cyra took the lead and asked, “So, what did you think?”

  Griffith’s purpley-blue eyes didn't give away any of his thoughts as he scanned each of their faces. “Do you really want to know?”

  I wasn’t sure how he was keeping a straight face. I had to keep my hands under my thighs to stop myself from clapping, and he wasn’t even smiling as Cyra nodded and answered, “Absolutely.”

  “I think it’s the best damn thing you guys have ever performed, including the Rising Phoenix songs you’ve covered.” He patted the sound board. “You could take this recording and land a deal with just about any production company you want.”

  Brand and Jude high-fived each other, but Cyra was still skeptical. “Because you’re our dad?”

  Griffith shook his head. “Nope, you could do it anonymously, and they’d still be banging down your door.”

  Our daughter threw herself into his arms, and I jumped up to hug our boys. We celebrated their song with dinner in a private room at the steakhouse at the Lennox, and I only cried a few times. Then the following week, Griffith was proved right when the kids signed a six-figure deal the morning of Cyra’s birthday. I cried a whole bunch more at her party that night...until Griffith reminded me that there wasn’t anything stopping us from going on tour with our kids.

  Baby Cakes

  Ariel Dawson didn't plan on getting a tattoo when she went to Ink Addiction with her sister. She was just there for moral support...definitely not to find an alpha caveman of her own.

  Maddox Holt had no qualms about putting his mark on Ariel right after he laid eyes on her. Because that's exactly what she was. His woman...even if they didn't have much in common.

  1

  Ariel

  My younger sister, Belle, was an adorable mess of nerves as we drove to the tattoo parlor her husband went to for his ink. Her leg was jittery, and her fingers kept tapping on her thigh. I probably should’ve been more sympathetic since I was the one who’d come up with the idea of her getting a tattoo in the first place, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to razz her a little. “It’s a good thing I’m the one who’s driving. If you were behind the wheel, we’d end up crashing before we made it even halfway there.”

  Belle jerked her head in my direction and glared at me. “Don’t you dare! This is all your fault,” she grumbled. “I wouldn’t be so nervous if you weren’t forcing me to get a stupid tattoo in the first place.”

  “Hey! No fair,” I protested. “I’m not forcing you into anything. You agreed to this fair and square.”

  “Only because you double dog dared me!”

  My lips curved up in a wicked grin. “Okay, I’ll admit that you’ve got me there, but you still could’ve said no.”

  “As if,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and switching her glare so it was aimed out the windshield as I turned onto the street where the tattoo parlor was located. “You and I both know that I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t follow through on a double dog dare.”

  I thought back to how relentless our older sister, Aurora, had been the time I’d tried to dodge one when I was a freshman in high school. She’d double dog dared me to talk to a boy who was way out of my league. He was a starting player for the varsity basketball team, three years ahead of me, and had a tattoo on his shoulder that all the girls couldn’t stop talking about because nobody else in the school had one.

  Aurora caught me looking at him for about five seconds and decided I liked him but was too scared to go up to him. That’s where the double dog dare came into the picture. She’d thought I was just being shy and that she was doing me a favor by forcing me to talk to him. It hadn’t mattered how much I’d tried to convince her that I didn’t like the guy—which was kind of understandable since I was blushing and stammering through my argument—she refused to budge.

  We spent three days going back and forth over the whole thing—with her slipping in verbal jabs whenever she could and me getting all tongue-tied out of frustration each time—until I finally caved and walked up to the guy in the cafeteria. Lucky for me, she hadn’t specified what I had to say to him. So, I asked him if I could have the extra salt packet on his lunch tray and trotted back over to our table.

  Aurora hadn’t been happy about how I’d fulfilled the terms of the double dog dare, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it since I’d technically done as she’d asked. And so the double dog dare rules had been set back then...be careful how you word your dare and don’t try to get out of one. It also taught me to be quicker with my comebacks, so I didn’t find myself in another awkward situation just because I didn’t speak up quickly enough.

  “You’ve got me there,” I conceded as I pulled into a parking spot. I waited until I’d tugged her out of the car and into the tattoo parlor before adding, “But we both also know that once it’s done, you’ll be glad that I gave you the extra nudge you needed or else you’d never go through with this.”

  “Wrong.” Belle made a buzzing noise like I was a contestant in a trivia show who’d just given an incorrect answer. “I know no such thing, and you only think you do.”

  “Welcome to Ink Addiction. I’m Wendy. How can I help you today?” The girl manning the front desk looked up at us in the middle of her greeting. Her smile was quickly wiped from her face when she saw my sister’s scowl. Her gaze darted between the two of us before she asked, “Um...do you have an appointment?”

  Since Ink Addiction was a high-end parlor where you had to book your appointment months in advance—unless you were married to a rock star apparently—it was a fair question. She was probably hoping the answer was no so she could tell the crazy ladies who looked like they’d never stepped foot in a tattoo parlor to leave.

  “Yup.” I grinned at her and nudged Belle forward. “My sister does.”

  Belle trudged over to the counter and sighed. “Yeah, I called last week, and the guy who does my husband’s ink said he’d fit me in today at noon.”

  “Last week? That doesn’t sound right.” Wendy tapped at the keyboard in front of her. When she found Belle’s appointment, her eyes went wide. “Oh! I get it now. You’re Griffith Thorne’s wife. That must be why Maddox came in today. So he could do your tattoo. I was wondering since he didn’t have any other appointments scheduled.”

  I elbowed Belle in the side when she didn’t say anything. “Did you hear that? The guy came to work just for you.”

  “You probably bribed him to do that so I’d feel too guilty to chicken out at the last minute,” she muttered.

  “Aw, there’s nothing to be scared about.” Wendy stretched out her right arm so we could see the butterfly tattoo on her inner wrist. “It really isn’t that bad, and Maddox is the best at what he does.”

  The butterfly had a 3D feel to it, almost as though it was perched on her wrist, ready to take flight at any moment. “I can see why you’d say he’s the best. This is some fantastic artwork. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “It is, but Maddox didn’t do mine. I wis
h he had been the one to do it,” Wendy sighed. “Not that I don’t love my tattoo. All of the artists here are amazing, but Maddox is kind of picky about the work he does. He owns the place, and people come from all around the world to get inked by him. Getting an appointment with him is sort of like winning the tattoo lottery.”

  “If you really want a tattoo from him, you should take my spot,” Belle was quick to offer.

  Wendy’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why do I have the feeling this is the last place you want to be?”

  Belle shrugged her shoulders. “Because it kind of is?”

  “Then why are you here?” Wendy asked.

  My sister pointed her thumb in my direction. “This one double dog dared me to get one. But that can wait. You really should—” I slapped my hand over Belle’s mouth before Wendy decided to cancel her appointment and take it for herself.

  “Don’t mind her,” I interjected. “She’s a tiny bit afraid of needles, but it’ll all be worth it when her hubby catches sight of his name on her skin.”

  Belle’s lips stopped moving, and after a moment I felt most of the tension melt from her body. When I pulled my hand away from her mouth, she offered me an apologetic smile. “Okay, fine. You might actually have a point.”

  “Does that mean you’re finally willing to admit that it’s a good thing I double dog dared you into getting a tattoo?”

  Belle rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m still not sure about this.”

  “You don’t have to get one today if you don’t want to. I’d rather do her anyway.” A shiver raced up my spine at the sound of the deep voice, and it intensified when I spotted the man whose fierce gaze was locked on me. He was about four or five inches taller than my five foot eight inches, with a muscular body. His eyes were a piercing blue and his dark hair looked silky to the touch, making my fingers itch to run through it. His snug-fitting black shirt with the name of the tattoo parlor stamped on the front in a super cool font stretched over his broad chest, and it showed off the dark ink of the full sleeves of tattoos on his arms.