Staying in Vegas: (Vegas Morellis, #1)

by Sam Mariano

  “Tell me something,” I say.

  He doesn’t answer, just kisses the shell of my ear again.

  “Obviously we both know I’m leaving in a few days, that I’m only a guest star here.”

  Catching my earlobe between his lips, he sends goosebumps coursing all over me. Releasing it, he murmurs noncommittally. “If you say so.”

  “But say I did stay—which I’m not.”

  “Of course.”

  It shouldn’t take so much courage to get this next part out, given that he’s touching my naked body and kissing his way toward the nape of my neck, but it still feels daunting. “And say you and I liked each other, and maybe wanted to keep doing… whatever this is.”

  “Mm hmm?”

  “My being pregnant with Rafe’s baby wouldn’t be a problem for you?”

  His response comes too easily to trust. “Nope.”

  I turn my head to look at him again. “Why?”

  “Why would it?” he asks.

  My eyes widen and I lean away from his lips, needing full use of my brain. Sin lets go of me so I can turn around. I cross my hands over my chest and raise expectant eyebrows at him. “What do you mean, why would it? Because a pregnancy leads to a baby. Even if you’d be cool with my body’s physical changes, those are only the symptoms. Seven months from now, I would be a mother. I wouldn’t be able to legally buy alcohol, and I would be a one-stop insta-family—and if it’s a boy, not even a normal single mom, but apparently the mom to the next Morelli heir.”

  “I’m already irrevocably involved with the Morellis,” he tells me, shrugging. “That doesn’t change anything for me.”

  “Rafe is your boss,” I tell him, in case he forgot.

  “I’m not afraid of Rafe,” he informs me.

  “I wasn’t saying that. It just seems like it would complicate your life, and for something that’s really not your problem… I don’t know why you’re pushing this so hard.”

  Sin watches me for a moment, then he says, “You want me to be honest?”

  “Please. Yes, very much yes.”

  “I think you came here looking for a reason to have that baby. I think you wanted Rafe to want you to go through with it, and I think you were disappointed when he reacted the way he did instead. What I don’t understand is why you need a reason. Why do you need someone else to tell you it’s a good idea? Why do you want so many things, but wait for someone else to tell you’re allowed to have them? You want to have the baby you’re already pregnant with? Do it. You want to make an illogical choice and stay here instead of heading home to Chicago? Do it. Fuck what other people think. If you don’t want to be a guest star all your life, stop bailing. Claim a starring role for yourself and that’s it.”

  Shaking my head, I tell him, “It isn’t that simple.”

  “Why isn’t it? I’ll be honest, it seems pretty damn simple to me.”

  “Because I’m already pursuing my degree at a school back east. Because I have family that I need to be close to, and they’re not even allowed in Vegas. Because I have a life, Sin.” Throwing my hands in the air, I add, “I don’t even know your name!”

  “Sin is my name. That’s what everyone calls me.”

  “See, you want me to have a baby that would totally derail my life, and you won’t even tell me your fucking name.”

  “It would not derail your life. There are colleges here; it can’t be that hard to transfer. Rafe has plenty of fucking money, so he can hire a nanny to help you out when you’re in class or studying. Being broke wouldn’t be an issue; all your financial needs would be taken care of. As far as your family, maybe you wouldn’t see them as much as you’re used to, but it’s not like you’d never see them. You could fly back east to visit as often as you wanted to, and if for some reason they needed to come here, I’m sure Rafe would make an exception and allow Vince back in town for a few days, same way Mateo let Vince back in Chicago for Ben’s funeral. All of your problems can be fixed, Laurel. Nothing about your situation goes beyond inconvenience—none of it is impossible.”

  I huff, annoyed at him, but unsure why.

  Well, I thought he was going to fuck me, but instead he started an argument with me—that’s a good reason. Or did I start the argument? Dammit, I can’t remember which one of us started the argument. As eager as I was, as much as I enjoyed his hands on me, now he’s dismissing my very real problems, and I’m too annoyed with him to go backward.

  Seeming to sense that, he doesn’t try to pull me back into the fog. Instead, he nods toward the bed. “Climb in.”

  I watch his hands move to unbutton his pants, but I turn and go over to my side, pulling back the covers and climbing on the bed. Now naked, Sin walks over to drop his slacks into the overflowing laundry basket and brings my phone over to my side of the bed to plug in.

  I can’t help feeling a little stab of regret at the sight of his cock, so close to me, and now off the menu because he had to start pushing the baby thing again.

  I don’t know why he cares so much.

  I want him to tell me his damn name.

  But I also really want to play with his cock. I forgot how much for a minute, but now it’s just right there, and God, I want to touch it.

  He walks away to hit the lights, then heads over to his side of the bed and plugs his own phone in. Realizing he didn’t cuff me, I wait to see if he comes back.

  Once his phone is plugged in, he yanks back the covers on his side and climbs under them. I’m not sure if he forgot, or he’s choosing to let me have some freedom, but I curl up beside him, wanting to express some gratitude.

  I thought I wasn’t in the mood anymore, but it turns out now that we’re both naked in bed, my annoyance has melted. When he seems receptive to my touch, I let my hand drift down the toned, perfect abs he possesses, and dip lower until my fingers wrap around his cock. He’s still hard, so being annoyed at me clearly didn’t knock any of the wind out of his sails.

  His eyes drift shut as I work him with my hand, caressing, tugging, massaging his balls. I still crave him inside me, but I’ll settle for getting him off. Once I’m confident he won’t stop me, I stop stroking dick and lean in to kiss his neck, hoping to tempt him. “May I have a taste, please?”

  I expect a verbal response, but he must be as eager as I am, because instead his fingers tangle in my hair and he shoves my face down toward his cock. Tension coils in my gut, arousal pooling between my legs. God, I love when he does that. I already wanted him, but now I need him. Now I feel grateful as he guides my face where he wants it, as he pushes that beautiful instrument between my lips. I moan enough for him to feel it in his cock, then when I hear him groan, I start sucking. His hand tightens in my hair, and without warning he pushes deep, hitting the back of my throat. I wasn’t prepared for it, but he lets me pull back just enough to get my bearings. Knowing what he wants now, I relax my throat muscles and glide forward, taking every inch of his cock.

  Sin groans. “Oh, fuck yeah, just like that, baby.”

  Baby sends a thrill straight through me. He’s never called me by an endearment before. I love the sound of it; I love the feel of him calling me something sweet. Caught somewhere between grateful and happy, all I want is to give some of those good feelings back. He’s a guy, so he probably wouldn’t get a charge out of an endearment, but I can certainly make him happy with my mouth. With every movement of my head, I make love to his cock. My tongue runs along the underside as I go shallow and deep, shallow and deep. I suck him and feel the bite of his fingers digging into my hair. I know that means he likes it, so I suck harder. I suck him like I need him to spill his life force down my throat, and then I’m hit with my own wave of pleasure as he growls with satisfaction and hot, salty jets fill my throat.

  My jaw is sore when I pull back. I open and close it a couple times, then I crawl back up beside him and flash him a smile. Sin curls an arm around me and yanks me even closer, kissing the crown of my head and closing his eyes.

 
“Damn, you’re good at that.”

  I beam under the glow of his praise. “Thank you.”

  “How many times did you go down on him?” he asks.

  My stomach immediately bottoms out and I glance up at Sin. That’s about the last thing I expected him to ask seconds after coming down my throat. I can still taste him on my tongue, and now Rafe’s heinous words from the restaurant float back to me.

  It does bother him. There’s no other reason he would be thinking about this right now. Now he’s making me think about it. I feel unimaginably slutty curled up next to Sin, still tasting him, while having flashes of Rafe in my memory. It wasn’t even that long ago. How did I go from two partners—both firmly inside relationships—in my whole life, to sucking off two men I had known for only days? One whose position in the criminal underworld was unclear to me, and one whose name I don’t even actually know.

  My hands automatically go to my face so I can hide from the world.

  “No,” Sin says, his fingers curling around my wrist and prying my hands off my face.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “Leave me alone, I’m in my shame corner.”

  “I was not shaming you,” he states. “I was just asking a question.”

  “Four. I went down on him four times. I’m a whorebag.”

  His tone is dismissive as he drags me back into his arms. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I swear, I’m not usually like this. Before Easter, I’d only been with two guys ever. Both boyfriends, both serious, committed relationships.”

  “Yeah, the little shits who couldn’t get you off. Rafe told me about them. I’m not impressed.”

  My eyes widen. “He told you that? What, do you guys share information about the girls you both fuck?”

  “We do not make a habit of fucking the same girls. You’d be the first as far as I know, but I have not fucked you.” Grabbing hold of my chin, he tips it up and makes me look at him. “And hey, only two more to go and you’ll be caught up. We can knock that out in no time.”

  It’s hard to feel bad when he makes me look into those beautiful brown eyes of his. God, he has good eyes. And a good face. And a great body. And a great cock. I’m pretty much impressed with the whole Sin package.

  “What is your first name?” I ask him, more calmly this time.

  “I don’t want you to call me by any other name,” he tells me, his thumb tenderly brushing my jawline as if to drain any potential sting out of his words. “I like Sin.”

  “I won’t call you by it; I just want to know what it is. Please?”

  He sighs like I’m annoying him, but nonetheless answers, “It’s Christian.”

  I brighten. “Christian Sinclair?”

  Nodding once, he says, “Don’t call me that, though. I don’t like it.”

  I smile, resting my head on his chest and gazing up at him. “I won’t. I just wanted to know. I like calling you Sin, too.”

  “My mom’s name is Christina. She more or less named me after herself, just took the more biblical approach.”

  “Does your mom know what you do for a living?” I inquire.

  Sin shakes his head no, absently running his fingers up and down my upper arm. “Nah. She knows I do some underhanded stuff, but she thinks I’m a bookie. Just ruining lives, never taking them. Helps her sleep a little better at night, I guess.”

  I like that he’s offering up information instead of making me drag it out of him, so I keep going. “Does she live around here? What about your dad, are they still together?”

  “Yep. They live in Sacramento. She’s an elementary school teacher, he owns a tire shop.”

  “Your mom is a teacher? I want to be a teacher. College, not elementary, but… still kinda cool. Do you ever go visit them?”

  Frowning slightly, he shakes his head. “Not really. Not in a long time.”

  “How long since you last saw them?”

  He doesn’t have to think about it. “Four years in August.”

  My eyes widen. “Four whole years? Wow, you must think I’m a real baby whining because I wouldn’t get to see Carly often. I would definitely see her every few months, even in the worst case scenario. Do you have any siblings?”

  “A brother. I don’t see him either,” he says, since he knows that’s my next question.

  My lips turn down and I lay my face against his chest, looking up at him. “That’s sad. You don’t have any family around here?”

  “Not anymore,” he says, simply.

  I’m planning to ask many more questions, but Sin must sense that. All of a sudden he’s moving, pushing me off his body and onto my back. My heart does a somersault in my chest cavity, then sinks down into my stomach as he climbs on top of me.

  Oh, my God, is he still going to fuck me? I’m not sure. He uses his knees to nudge my legs apart and plant himself between them, then leans over and opens the bedside drawer.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, my gaze tentative as he grabs my cuffs.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks, as he places my wrist in the first padded cuff and clicks it shut.

  “Are you cuffing me so we can play, or so we can sleep?”

  It doesn’t seem like he’s going to answer me. I watch as he checks to make sure my right cuff is secure, then chains me to the bed. Then he puts the second cuff on my left wrist and climbs back over to his side, yanking up the drop-rail over there.

  “Um, Sin?”

  He looks down at me, seeing how uneasy I am as he stretches my arm out to attach my left wrist to the other bar. “Do you trust me?” he asks, simply.

  I swallow, torn on what to say. On one hand, I want to say yes. I must trust him, because I’ve let him put me in vulnerable situations like this before, and I just had his dick in my mouth. While I know that’s not a big deal to some people, I’m not super casual about it. I wouldn’t be going down on a man I didn’t trust to at least some degree, right? I don’t pass out blow jobs like strings of beads at Mardi Gras.

  I settle for a not-completely-confident, “I think so.”

  Sin smirks, looking at the cuff as he gives it a good yank to ensure it is secure. “Good answer.”

  Those scarred, sexy hands of his grip my hips and he lowers himself between my spread legs. Oh, God, is he…?

  He is. I can scarcely breathe as Sin gazes up at me before pressing his lips against the inside of my thigh. Overcome with a sudden bout of shyness, I shake my head vigorously. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Ignoring me, he presses his lips even higher. I can’t help trying to pull away, so his grip on my hips tightens. Flicking a glance up at me, his tone hard, he says, “Stop.”

  My racing heart drops. “Stop?”

  “Stop trying to get away from me. I’ll tie your ankles, too, if you keep it up.”

  That shouldn’t send a flurry of lust coursing through me, but it does.

  Almost casually, he asks, “Are you going to fight me if I fuck you, too?”

  My heart is always sinking when this man talks, I swear. “If you fuck me?”

  His lips curve up with amusement. “Yeah.” He kisses a little higher up my thigh, then meets my gaze again. “If I fuck you.”

  His mouth hasn’t even touched my pussy yet, and already it’s throbbing with desire for him. He conjures the scariest, sexiest mental images. He makes me feel the scariest, sexiest things. “Would you still do it?” I ask.

  “Would I still fuck you if you fought me? Probably.” His delivery is so casual that I want to press for details, but then he presses his mouth against my pussy and my mind explodes in a blinding white explosion of arousal. I throw my head back into the pillows as he drags his tongue over me. I yank at the chains, but the way he secured and positioned me, I’m trapped. Stretched tight, like I’m a real prisoner. No slack for comfort, tied up and at his mercy, all the control stripped from me.

  A ribbon of fear unfurls as it occurs to me this could be legitimately dangerous. Right now we’re playing
, but this could easily shift. What if I panicked and wanted out? There’s no out. There’s no give in the chains. The cuffs are locked. I have only the use of my lower body, and he’s capable of overpowering my whole body, so I wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Rafe wouldn’t have left me here with him if I had anything to actually worry about, right? He told me to be careful with Sin, but he didn’t expand upon the vague warning. Despite my wish to stay here, if he thought Sin might actually hurt me, surely Rafe would have made me leave with him instead of just offering.

  “Should we have a safe word?” I ask.

  Sin shakes his head, his tongue moving along the edge of my folds. Fuck, it’s hard to concentrate when he does that. I’m torn between wanting to be responsible, and wanting to say fuck it, please, please push that perfect tongue inside me.

  “Are you sure?” I press. “Rafe said even if it didn’t seem like one was necessary, it was a good idea to get one established. Just to—”

  His hands drop to my thighs, pressing them apart and looking between my legs. I flush, tormented by the awkwardness of him looking right at my pussy while I’m halfway to helpless and seeking an emergency exit, just in case I have need of one.

  Before he dips his head again, he looks up at me. “I already know yours. Plutonium, right?”

  My eyes widen. “Did he tell you that, too?”

  “You did. When he was touching you at the restaurant. Do me a favor? Don’t say his name when you’re in this bed unless you want me to get mean.”

  The way my body reacts to those words, I can’t tell if I want that or not. My logical brain says no, of course not. The rogue lobe that keeps sending jolts of arousal through me every time he says something awful thinks maybe that would be interesting.

  “Okay. But is that how safe words work? Are they passed on? Shouldn’t we have our own?”

  Sin’s mouth leaves me and he looks up at me. “Laurel.”