Exquisitely Hidden: A Sin City Tale

by M. Jay Granberry

  “That’s the goal, right?”

  “Indeed, Ms. James.”

  I tune out the teasing conversation that’s way more bark than bite. The entourage is set to move when Adam enters the dressing room. A tiny female replica of him, golden from the tips of her ponytails to the toes of her sandal-covered feet, dressed in an NWA T-shirt that reads straight outta compton and a hot pink tutu is with him.

  “Shin!” she yells, sprinting across the room as fast as her little feet can take her. Adam watches the scene with a mixture of relief and happiness.

  He looks tired. Even tired with the thin skin under his eyes smudged from exhaustion, hair frizzed in a way that happens from running his hands through it in agitation, he looks good. He’s wearing a Boys N Tha Hood T-shirt to match his sister’s. There’s no tutu. His long legs are encased in red denim and, instead of the boots tonight, he’s sporting red and white hard-shell Adidas.

  What I can gather she’s turned his life upside down. The way kids do. His eyes swing around the room, passing me on the first sweep but snapping back to land on mine.

  For a man that who told me he wasn’t interested in a relationship, the look he’s laying on me is drenched in gasoline—unstable and primed to explode. His eyes drop to my lips, travel down my throat and chest, ending at my dick, which sleepily stirs against my leg under his intense ministrations.

  Fuuuck, baby. My body has a Pavlovian response to that look. My lungs pull in more oxygen, my heart pumps blood into my lips and cock, making the skin achy and tight. If I look in a mirror, I’m sure my pupils will be wide open.

  Don’t go there, Seth, I chide myself. That look isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know. He’s never lied about wanting to fuck me. But fuck buddies don’t hold you when you learn your mother died. They don’t know all your secrets.

  “Why come?” The child’s wail breaks the spell we both seem to be under and drops us back to reality.

  “What’s the matter, pretty girl?” Adam asks. His attention completely focuses on his sister.

  I take that moment to slip out of the dressing room.

  I’m done for the day. Aiden and Joey will take over for the rest of the night. I make my way to the elevator and, when the doors open on the casino level, I pat the front pockets of my black jeans, looking for the keys.

  Dammit, I left them in the dressing room. With a growl of frustration, I hit the down button. Nothing in this casino is close. It’ll be another thirty-minute walk to retrieve my keys. It’ll take fifteen minutes to get back to the room, and fifteen to get back to the casino.

  I wait not so patiently for the elevator. The doors slide open and there he is. Adam steps off with Tori sleeping in his arms. Not close enough to cause suspicion but close enough that I smell his cologne.

  “Hey,” he says low and just like downstairs, his eyes on my face feel like a physical touch.

  “What’s up?” I reply, focusing intently on the doors sliding shut behind him.

  Don’t look at him, Seth, that’s where trouble always starts, and you can’t afford to get caught up again.

  “I’m going to get this little one home and into bed.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Enjoy your night.” I walk a couple of steps around him and his sister and hit the call button again.

  “Seth?”

  “Hmm.” I look at him over my shoulder.

  “I don’t know what you have planned for tonight, but if you’re not busy, you could come over and hang.”

  The invitation hangs in the air between us. If I go to his house it won’t be just to hang out. I know it. He knows it and that’s fucked up. He has a kid now. A whole little person who needs his full attention.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “It’s not a bad one,” he counters, his full lips pulling up into a thin smile.

  The doors open and I step into the elevator car. Adam holds the door open with an outstretched hand. “Come.” His eyes drill into mine, and then he whispers, “Please.”

  “Adam . . .” I give him a warning look.

  “Just for a little while. Even the social worker has said I need to figure out how to balance having Tori in my life. I can’t just go to work and go home. There has to be a medium. I’m not asking you to stay all night. But since I’ve had her I just feel a little isolated, and I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  “You’re not alone.” My eyes drop meaningfully to his sister sleeping comfortable in his arms.

  “Tori being at the house is different. I need . . .” Me. That’s what he doesn’t say. He needs time around the only person who doesn’t require him to be strong and in control.

  “But you said—”

  “I never said I didn’t want to see you.”

  The way we left things was clear. Seeing each other outside of my work relationship with Sin wasn’t part of the plan.

  The warning bell starts to ding, signaling that the doors had been open too long and they would automatically start to close. Adam removes his hand.

  “Come,” he says right before the door closes.

  An hour later I roll up to his house. It’s dark from the outside. He’s probably asleep. It’s all for the best. I shouldn’t have come.

  I rest my head on the headrest, more than a little relieved but still disappointed. I sit up in the seat, press the button to start the Jeep, and my phone lights the interior of the car. I pick the thing up from the cup holder and grin at the name that flashes on the screen. I answer the call.

  “You plan on getting out of the car tonight?”

  “I was just about to leave. I shouldn’t be here,” I say honestly.

  The line goes silent on the other end and the front door opens. Adam stands there shirtless, shoeless, wearing navy blue sleep pants low on his hips, and his hair pulled off his face in a messy bun on top of his head.

  I’m out of the car before I think better of it. He steps back when I finally reach the door, giving just enough space that I have to turn sideways and scrape against his body to get through the doorway.

  He closes and locks it, turning to face me, leaning on the wooden surface, hands tucked behind his back. Moonlight shines through the front windows, washing us both in a pale glow. He studies me with his head tilted to the side. The silence between us is strained. I don’t know if he’s waiting on me to do something or if I’m waiting on him, but I feel uncertain and awkward.

  This isn’t us.

  We’re not these guys.

  “Come here, baby.” I hold out my arms. I don’t have to ask twice. He steps forward into my embrace. His arms curl around my waist and his head comes to rest on my shoulder. I palm the back of his head, pulling him into me, so that our bodies are flush. When I feel him sag in relief, I wrap my other hand around his back.

  He lets out a sigh. “I’m happy you came.”

  “I shouldn’t have.”

  “But I’m happy you did,” he repeats with sad conviction.

  Really? I lean back to look at his face, but in the dark, I can barely make out the shadowy figure of his nose, or the murky space where I should see expressive cerulean eyes.

  I inch forward, my lips finding his in the dark. It’s a light touch, more air than skin but Adam moans at the contact. His fingers flex at my waist, holding me tighter. His tongue flicks at the crease of my bottom lip, tentative, seeking.

  And I open.

  Inviting him in.

  I groan as his tongue slides against mine, his flavor storming my taste buds. Motherfucker, I miss this, miss him. I dive in. Slanting my mouth on his, walking him toward the wall, grinding all over every inch of his six-foot-three frame.

  I nip at his lips. Suck on his neck. I reintroduce myself to the supple skin between his collarbone and his shoulder.

  “You always feel . . .” Adam says between pants, “so fucking good.”

  “I can feel better,” I say, dropping to my knees and tugging down the front of his pants. He’s comman
do. My mouth waters at the sight of his cock jutting toward me. I inhale his unique, manly scent and my senses overload, spurring me to grip his length and skim his slit with my tongue. Tasting a singular drop of his precum is bliss. He presses his shoulders against the wall, arching his hips forward. Begging me without words . . . suck me.

  At the first touch of my lips, he whimpers. That sound lands in my balls, drawing them painfully tight.

  I take his swollen crown into my mouth, swallowing his dick to the back of my throat, sucking him from base to tip. Finding my voice at the same time he finds his, we moan in unison.

  Loud. Needy. Wanton.

  Strong hands come to the back of my head, urging me, spurring me, to take more, do more. I give into the silent demand. The restraint I needed to not have this—him—for the last several days falls away. Replaced by an insatiable need to claim what’s mine. Because he’s mine. At least in this.

  Rolling my tongue across the protruding veins, I dip my head, drawing his sack into my mouth. I hum around the skin, working his balls with my tongue until the skin is slick with my saliva, and with ease I move back to his shaft. Hand and head working together in synchronized rhythm, for the sole purpose of bringing him pleasure.

  “Holy fuck.” His hips begin to thrust in earnest.

  Quick. Uncoordinated. Messy.

  I run hands up his thighs, stilling his movements. “Feel me, baby,” I mutter. “Feel what I’m doing to you.”

  I take him back into my mouth so far I choke, but I keep going. Needing his release. Needing him to let it all go and give it to me.

  “I . . . feel . . . you,” he pants. “Seth, I feel . . . oh shit . . . I feel it . . . I feel it . . . Shit, I feel you . . .”

  I nod in a wordless response to the warning.

  His release floods my mouth. Warm, salty spurts coat my tongue, the walls of my cheeks, and the back of my throat. My eyes roll at his heady flavor and I give another suck, draining him dry. I revel in that last drop and the hard, uneven pattern of his breaths.

  I rise to my feet, leaning my forearms against the wall by his head. Running my nose up his neck and the shell of his ear, I whisper, “Fuck, that was hot.”

  A full-body shiver ripples through his limbs. And all is right in the world.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he says on a drowsy yawn, pulling up the front of his pants. “I really wasn’t expecting . . .” His words fall off and another shiver shakes his shoulders.

  “Me to drop knowledge. You know my head game is strong, baby?” I say, finishing his sentence.

  I see the flash of white teeth in the dark. “I’m down to be schooled whenever.” The smile dims around the edges. “But for real I just wanted to hang tonight. Like we used to. I think Top Gun is on Hulu.”

  There’s a reticent tone of his voice, almost like he expects me to walk away and it pulls at my heart. This gorgeous, creative man who could have anyone in his home, in his bed, yet chose me, is afraid. What does he have to be afraid of? That I’ll what? Reject him? Walk out the door?

  When all I’ve wanted since the day he relegated our relationship to the fling category was to be here. I walked out the door, that day hotter than fucking fish grease because I know we could have something great if he’d give it a chance. Give us a real chance. Maybe this is a step in the right direction.

  “Well, then, take me to bed or lose me forever.”

  “Did you just Kelly McGillis me?” He chuckles.

  “Oh, I did that.” I drop a kiss on his neck before I push off the wall. “Let’s go, baby. First, we watch that great piece of cinematic art that is Top Gun and then we take care of this.”

  His eyes greedily follow my hand as I drop it to my almost painfully hard dick and squeeze. His gaze lingers there for a long beat before bouncing back up to mine.

  “We can watch the movie later.”

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I all but beat him to the room.

  “Addy, do I have to go?” A child’s wail pulls me from sleep.

  “We talked about this, pretty girl. Remember?” Adam’s voice is thick with emotion. How many sleeps do you have before you come home?”

  “Five?” The little voice asks.

  “No.” He laughs. “Not five. Is that your favorite number? You say five for everything.”

  “How many?” she whines insistently.

  “Four sleeps and you’ll be home.”

  “Pinky sweat?” I smile at the mispronunciation and the image that popped in my head of the cute little girl extending her small hand to Adam, pinkie raised.

  “Pinky swear,” he corrects.

  I’m lying in bed with a wide grin on my face as I picture Adam extending his pinky and wrapping it around Tori’s much smaller one. He seems to be good with her. I’ll definitely need pointers if we . .

  What? End up together? The smile dies on my lips.

  Those types of assumptions fucked me seven ways from Sunday when we first started whatever situation we have going. I took what was supposed to be one night and tried like hell to craft a forever, and I’m doing it again.

  I’m nobody to Tori but the man who keeps her brother and his friends safe. Adam doesn’t need to give me pointers on how to build a relationship with her. But, damn, I wish he would.

  A couple of minutes later the room door opens and Adam tiptoes in. I hear the rustle of clothes and feel the cool air when the sheets are lifted, and he slips back into bed, curving his body around mine.

  “You awake?” He runs a hand over my hip and down my thigh.

  “Barely,” I answer, moving closer to the heat of his body. “I missed you last night. Where’d you go?”

  “Slept on the couch. Sometimes Tori gets up in the middle of the night, and I didn’t want her to see . . ” Me. That’s the responsible thing to do. Children shouldn’t know the business of adults. They shouldn’t be subject to a revolving door of lovers. Kudos to him for taking the time to provide a safe home for his sister. As the one labeled not worthy, though, it feels like a kick to the dick.

  “Baby, it’s not like that,” he whispers, dropping a kiss on the sensitive spot at the base of my neck in apology.

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  “Still early, a little after nine.”

  “I guess I should probably get out of here.” I try to move but his strong arms hold me in place.

  “We have the whole day. Mrs. Carter just picked up Tori. That’s why she was crying. She didn’t want to go.” I try to turn to see his face, but his arms tighten, holding me in place. “Stay. It’ll be chill. We can watch the game. Throw some meat on the grill. Fuck in the shower. I love you all slick and soaped up.” He rolls his hips against my ass and sighs when I arch up, moving to the slow, leisurely tempo.

  What could I say to that? He mapped out my ideal Sunday: football, food, and fucking, and not necessarily in that order. He was offering me time with him; it was a first step. Today we’d watch the game at home, and maybe next week we’d make it to a sports bar. Look at me making plans for our tomorrow.

  I twist on the mattress, bringing us face to face. I trace the lines of his face, watching in fascination when his eyes flutter closed and his lips part with an affected breath.

  There’s a little voice in the back of my head warning me that having a relationship, secret or otherwise, with a man who won’t acknowledge me in public can only end up one way. Disaster.

  When we’re like this, cocooned in intimacy, hands touching, eyes locked, I think he might just be worth the pending disaster.

  “I could use a shower,” I say, dropping a kiss on his lips.

  “Yeah.” He’s practically vibrating with anticipation.

  “Yeah, baby. Let’s go get clean.”

  Adam

  Over the last month or so Seth and I have fallen into a rhythm. On the nights I’m in Vegas, and he’s not working with Sin, and I don’t have Tori, which isn’t often and will be even less in about a month when the court finally awar
ds me full custody, he’s with me. It works out to be two or three days a week. Low key, I like everything about it. I like waking up to his face next to mine on the pillow. I like walking into the bathroom and seeing his can of aerosol next to my stick of deodorant. I like that he has space in my closet and a set of spare keys to my house.

  A couple of days ago we tested the waters with Tori. I wasn’t sure how she’d respond to having Seth sharing our space at home. If I’m honest, I wasn’t sure how Seth would respond to her either. The house has a very different vibe when it’s just the two of us home. When Tori’s here, the focus is her. It has to be.

  The night they met, he showed up at the house to watch Monday Night Football with a six-pack of Samuel Adams and his homemade ceviche. He didn’t even bother to ring the doorbell anymore. He walked in with an easy stride, his eyes widening a little bit when he saw Tori had laid out on a giant bean bag like an empress, eating peeled grapes and cheese, pretending to read the colorful cardboard pages of Chicka Chicka Boom Boom.

  “Hey, baby.” He sat the six-pack on the counter and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I see we have company.”

  “We do. You good with that?”

  “We still watching football?” He grabbed a bottle of beer, twisting the cap off.

  “Yep.”

  “You still grilling carne asada?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He placed another chaste kiss on my lips. “Then it’s all gravy. Introduce me to your sister.”

  The introduction was quick and simple.

  Seth met Tori.

  Tori met my friend Seth.

  She went back to her book and snacks, and he sat on the sofa, surfing the channels, waiting for the game to start.

  Somewhere around the middle of the second quarter Tori took interest in the men running around on the field.

  Seth explained football to a three-year-old with the detail of a sports analyst, but she ate it up. By the end of the game she was cheering and giving him high fives.

  We’re moving at warp speed and I should feel pressed, but I don’t. It’s nice. So nice, in fact, that looking at his empty side of the bed, and to Arnold Schwarzenegger and Carl Weathers on the TV attempting to kill the Predator, I miss him.