Claim My Baby (Dirty DILFs Book 2)

by Taryn Quinn

But I was halfway there.

  “Not here,” he murmured, and I found myself nodding.

  Finally. We’d go back to the hotel room and finish what we’d started earlier in the night.

  I wondered if he’d let me take a picture of our messed-up bedsheets post lovemaking for my memory journal? Eh, I’d worry about that once I’d been deflowered.

  Petals thrown every damn where.

  That was why I didn’t expect to find myself in yet another cocktail bar after we’d cashed in my windfall, nursing a cup of piping-hot coffee with a side of buttery croissant.

  The croissant was to die for though. And he’d given me back my phone, but I hadn’t yet texted Ally.

  I was still enjoying myself, despite my sexual frustration. The Monday-night quarterbacking could wait until it was actually Monday.

  “Good croissant?” Oliver asked before sipping his own coffee.

  “Delicious.” Even the coffee was. Must be a Vegas thing or else my palate was changing like the rest of me. “By the way, you’re a huge tease.”

  That eyebrow thing he did verged on pornographic. “Am I now?’

  “You know where I thought we were going when we left the casino. It wasn’t to drink French roast.” I leaned across the table. “I had another French occupation in mind.”

  He smirked. “Is that on your sexual bucket list too? Some kind of traditionally French foreplay?”

  “Kissing, you jerk.” I sat back and paused with a flaky piece of croissant nearly to my mouth. “Are there different kinds of French sex? If so, we should investigate that.”

  “Try the usual first, why don’t you? Save the love languages for later.”

  “I’ll try anything at this point.”

  He nodded at my coffee. “How is it?”

  “It’s wonderful. But—oh.” I sighed. “Duh. You’re trying to get me to sober up. But I’m not actually drunk.”

  “Sure, you aren’t.”

  “I was buzzing earlier. But now I’m pretty much back to normal. It’s been hours.”

  He seemed dubious. “You expect me to believe you?”

  “Yes. I bet I could walk in a straight line, no problem.”

  He jerked his chin beside our narrow table. “Go on then.”

  After bolstering myself with a couple swallows of coffee—heavily laden with cream and sugar, unlike his black—I rose and walked to the bar and back. There was a little wobbling, but not much. I got a few amused looks at my precise heel-to-toe steps, yet they didn’t stop me.

  I was learning not to care so much what others thought. Trying anyway.

  Once I sat again, I glanced at Oliver, who was staring at me with a strange sort of pride. “Well?”

  “You hardly wavered.”

  “I told you.”

  He leaned forward and placed his large hand against my forehead. “Skin isn’t flushed either. Your tolerance is impressive for a non-drinker.”

  “I drank a few times in college. I just couldn’t get to the fully drunk part. The one where my inhibitions were gone. You know, tequila makes her clothes fall off.”

  He gazed at me unblinkingly. “I missed that one.”

  “It’s a country song. A good one too. We should dance.” I glanced around. It was late, but the cocktail bar still had its share of patrons scattered at the tables and milling around the bar. “Think we can here?”

  “I’m not really certain this is the place for it.”

  “I bet if we get the dance floor started, everyone will join us. Who doesn’t like to get their groove on?” I stood and circled the table, grabbing his hand and bringing him to his feet.

  He didn’t put up even a token protest. Wonders never ceased.

  “Me,” he muttered.

  “You just get your groove on horizontally instead of vertically.” I pulled his hand over my shoulder and drew him into the cleared-out area near the bar. A couple of the patrons shot us wary looks, but just as quickly started to smile as I began to dance.

  Any freaking way I wanted to.

  “Yet you claim not to be drunk,” he said under his breath, hands dipped in his pockets as he watched me shimmy and sway to the Camila Cabello song coming through the speakers.

  I hadn’t been to “Havana” and the music didn’t exactly match my movements, but whatever. This was a freeform freestyle.

  “Nope. Just high on life.” I lifted my arms over my head and turned around, slowly swiveling my hips. I cast him a backward glance, hoping upon hope he was paying attention to me at the very least.

  His gaze was welded to my behind.

  “I like yours too,” I said, waiting until he looked up guiltily to flash him a grin. “Come a little closer, why don’t you? I don’t bite.”

  Actually, I wasn’t sure that was true. I wanted to take a nice big juicy bite out of Oliver Hamilton—the kind that left behind marks.

  Hmm, maybe I was a little bit kinky underneath my hard vanilla shell. Who knew?

  He stepped closer and gripped my hips, moving against me in his version of dancing. I was okay with it. He was far more restrained than I was, but I knew that was public Oliver.

  Private Oliver was a much different beast altogether.

  “Do you know how many men are wanting you right now?” he asked near my ear, his breath a warm puff against my skin.

  I nearly shivered as I reached behind me to hook my arm around his neck. It took some angling because he was so much taller than me. But he shifted down and I slid up and we made it work.

  “That so?” I circled my backside against his front and smiled as I was rewarded for my efforts with the bump of his hips. And a mighty fine erection indeed. “What about you?”

  His hand skimmed my waist, hesitating there before climbing higher so that the tips of his fingers brushed the underside of my breast. “Your effect on me is quite obvious, princess.”

  That nickname. He might as well have poured hot caramel on my body and licked it off.

  We danced for a while, and I was right that some of the other patrons joined us once we demonstrated we weren’t weirdos. At least I thought we did. It was Vegas, so you never really knew.

  Before long, the beat of the music slowed as the night wound down to closing time. It was late, and even a woman experiencing her first exciting cross-country adventure got tired eventually. I found myself in Oliver’s arms with my cheek against his chest as we swayed to the song playing, one by The Chainsmokers. The singer was talking about wanting something just like this.

  I could relate.

  “Ready to go back to the room?” Oliver finally asked when it was obvious the bar was about to close.

  I nodded, my sleepiness lifting. Did this mean we would finally take care of business?

  All right, he’d be taking care of more business than me, but still. I didn’t intend to be a newbie for long. I learned fast.

  I hid a yawn behind my hand as we headed out. Maybe I should’ve had another cup of coffee.

  “You partied all night,” Oliver said, sliding me a sidelong look as we hit the sidewalk to return to our hotel. “Car this time?”

  “No. It’s beautiful out.” I slipped my arm through his and tipped my head against his shoulder. “We should move here.”

  “Should we now?” His response was laced with amusement, and I didn’t even get annoyed.

  I was so warm and loose and relaxed. It was possible I’d never been this relaxed ever before in my life.

  Scratch that. I knew I’d never felt this good.

  “You indulged every one of my whims tonight,” I said softly, swallowing again and again to make the sudden lump in my throat disappear. “No matter how crazy. Even Celine.”

  “We had fun.”

  “Really? You honestly enjoyed yourself with me?”

  He glanced down at me, regarding me so intently that my whole body flushed. I mean, obviously, I couldn’t check to verify that, but his expression spread heat through me from head to toe.

  “Very mu
ch,” he replied equally softly.

  “So, does this mean you don’t actually hate me?”

  “I never hated you.” His answer came so quickly that I took it at face value. “Can you say the same?”

  Pursing my lips, I squinted at the lights from passing cars as I sifted through my memories. “Um, no.”

  His laughter was rich and intimate. “Somehow I knew you’d say that.”

  “You’re so infuriatingly smug. And you sleep with everyone, and think you’re God’s gift to the world.”

  “I can assure you I do not. And I haven’t been with everyone.” He paused, holding my gaze while my heartbeat thundered out of control. “I haven’t been with you.”

  “Some think oral sex is still sex,” I whispered, failing miserably at my attempt at a jaunty tone.

  “Don’t Clintonize me right now. If oral sex counts, it’s only if it’s mutual.”

  I cleared my throat. “I believe I expressed some interest in that earlier.”

  “I believe so. You have an interest in a great many things.” He rubbed his thumb over my hand on his arm. “You’ll have to share them with me sometime.”

  “Busy tonight?”

  He didn’t laugh. “As it turns out, I’m all yours.”

  Oh boy. I could hear my virginity shrieking as it went down in flames.

  I’d definitely need a picture as evidence for my memory journal. Not just of our lovemaking nest. Of the hotel and the street outside and everything else I’d neglected taking photos of in my quest to just…live.

  “We’re here.”

  I turned my head and widened my eyes. We were standing in front of the circular driveway to our hotel.

  “Did we run here?” I asked. Maybe that explained why I was out of breath.

  Nope, that was due to imminent sex.

  Finally.

  So fucking finally.

  Go to hell, swear gallon.

  Oliver squeezed my hand and gestured ahead of him. “After you, princess.”

  8

  Oliver

  I had entertained carrying Sage over the threshold into the suite. Not that I normally did such things. There was a fine line between romance and farce.

  But as in all things, Sage Evans was different. She made me want to be different as well. To live outside the box just as she did.

  If anyone deserved that extra jolt of romance, it was sweet, untainted Sage.

  Not that she’d remain untainted much longer. I had my share of positive qualities, but my saintly nature wasn’t one of them.

  I’d tried to keep my distance at different times during the evening. It was simply impossible, no matter how often I reminded myself of my brother’s stern words. I wanted more from her—what, I wasn’t yet certain—but if she needed less…well, I could be what she needed, for tonight or a string of them.

  Whatever she would give, I would greedily take.

  Beginning her sensual education by carrying her over the threshold was a no-brainer.

  I just never expected to do it because she was unconscious.

  Oh, she wasn’t dead. Not even passed out in a drunken stupor. She’d just worn herself out like a delirious child who’d sampled all the offerings at the buffet table and hit ground zero against my shoulder in the gilt-trimmed elevator.

  My luck.

  She hadn’t fully been out, just kind of snore-snorting herself awake as she leaned on my arm, but as soon as I swept her up, she blinked out. Just snuggled right in, her face in my throat, and allowed me to suffer all manner of stares from the few returning late-night partiers also stumbling to their rooms.

  Not that I was stumbling. I was quite sure-footed, since I hadn’t imbibed enough to take down a buffalo.

  Somehow I managed to maneuver the door open without dropping her. Small favors. As I placed her in the center of her bed, I frowned. She was awfully pale. This wasn’t some kind of alcohol poisoning, was it?

  She couldn’t have consumed that much. Though I had left her a few times while she’d been at the slot machine to take care of some business with our secretary, who just loved being awakened out of a sound sleep due to my urgent requests. If she hadn’t dealt with Seth and me for years now, and thought of us as sons—annoying ones—she probably would’ve quit on the spot.

  But I didn’t think this sudden slumber was alcohol-related, beyond the natural system-depressant effect liquor had. She’d just run herself into the ground. Soaking up every little bit Vegas had to offer.

  I smiled as I fluffed the pillows under her head and carefully worked to free the sheet and covers from beneath her without disrupting her sleep. Tomorrow there would be more fun and exploration. I didn’t know if she’d want to gamble again, or maybe see if we could take in another show. There was also the possibility of driving out to the desert.

  Making love on a blanket under the stars.

  Whoa. This is not General Hospital. You won’t have sex with the virginal woman and she’ll suddenly decide you two are soul mates. More likely, if you do have sex, she’ll enjoy an O or two and happily bounce back home and act as if nothing ever happened.

  I was okay with that. Truly. I had no expectations about getting physical or anything else. Even if my thoughts kept veering to a form of romance I wasn’t used to.

  Seth thought I was skilled at the woo, but there had never been another woman I wanted to woo as much as this one. And that was fucking terrifying.

  After I tugged the sheet up to her shoulders, I glanced at the nightstand. She should have water for when she woke up. Probably some painkillers too, just in case a headache kicked in. She hadn’t stayed hydrated enough throughout the evening.

  I collected two aspirin from my travel case and filled a water glass then double-checked that she was still resting peacefully. No issue there. Her lips were even lifted in sleep. I hoped she was having good dreams. She deserved them.

  Okay, that was it. I turned and headed toward the door of my connecting suite. I was going to bed to hopefully banish this sappiness that had overtaken me. As much as I hated leaving her alone, it was probably for the best. Besides, being in her presence had brought something soft out of me I couldn’t identify and wasn’t sure I liked.

  Former shark, recently neutered. Pay your quarters for viewing now.

  I would return often to check on her. My threatened balls weren’t more important than her well-being.

  “Oliver.”

  Her voice was thick with fatigue and so low I could barely hear it. My gut lurched just the same.

  I was never going to be able to leave now. I didn’t want to.

  “Shh, get some sleep. I’ll be right next door—”

  “No. Too far.” She flung out an arm and indicated the other half of the enormous King bed. She looked so tiny in the center of that enormous space. So vulnerable and sweet.

  Fuck, my dick twitched. I couldn’t help it. She was so beautiful. I took in that spray of long blond hair over the pristine pillows, the heavy fringe of lashes that cast shadows on her cheeks, the pale pink bow of her lips.

  Every fiber of my body strained toward her, and my brain threw up roadblock after roadblock.

  “Oliver,” she said again, stronger now. She still hadn’t opened her eyes. “Your smell’s still too far away. Come to bed.”

  It made me laugh. I wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted me for me or my musk.

  Or the fact that you’re a convenient penis. Don’t forget that part. Thanks, brother.

  Right then, I didn’t care. I’d never spooned with a woman before in my life, but I had a feeling tonight would be a first.

  In a lot of ways.

  I toed off my shoes, then shed my clothes down to my boxers and set them on a nearby chair. Bring the wallet or no? The debate lasted far longer than it should have.

  In the end, I left it behind. No assumptions, remember? I stood at the foot of the bed, studying the steady rise and fall of her chest. Perhaps she’d fallen asleep again.

 
; “I’m awake. Ish.” It was as if she could read my thoughts. Disconcerting as hell. She wiggled her fingers. “Come on, big boy. I won’t bite.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  I got in on the opposite side, then hesitated, my back propped against the headboard. Now what? Just lie down? Roll toward her and seem available for possible snuggling?

  Christ, why was this all so fucking hard?

  Normally, I didn’t give any of this stuff a second thought. Second or third-date sex didn’t require such intense scrutiny. Now I was overanalyzing every step.

  That damn virginity of hers was slowing my roll to a stop.

  “Still too far,” she mumbled, rolling over and inching across the bed until her head was in my lap.

  Nope, already played this scenario once tonight. It wasn’t occurring again until she got some of her own back. I wasn’t a saint, but I also wasn’t a selfish son of a bitch.

  At least not with her.

  Luckily, I didn’t have to shift her away because she did that all on her own. She didn’t go far, instead pressing her cheek into the side of my thigh. “Too far away up there.” Her voice was muffled by the bedding.

  I slid down the bed and let out a startled oomph as she rolled half onto me, attaching herself as if I were her own personal body pillow. One leg went over both of mine, her arm draped over my waist and her mouth landed at the base of my throat.

  She smelled so fresh and clean. That sunshine and fresh air scent clung especially strongly to her hair, and I tilted my head to take a long, leisurely sniff.

  “Smelling me?” she muttered as heat singed my ears. “I do that too with you.” She buried her nose in the crook between my neck and shoulder. “So yummy.”

  “Go to sleep.” I stroked a hand over her wild hair and like a kitten under a hand, she drifted right off again.

  So much for spooning. She was practically on top of me.

  It didn’t seem to matter that the position was a little uncomfortable, because my eyes were already closing. She’d worn me out.

  I smiled. And I’d enjoyed almost every moment. Minus some of the Celine show. Only some. She had actually been pretty good.

  Neutering half-complete. Will be finished by morning.