by Ella Brooke
“I guess.” She sighed and dug into her food. “That’s Vegas. Nothing really changes—the desert is always hot, the buildings have no windows so you can’t tell what time it is, and even if you could, this is the real city that never sleeps. We just help make sure everyone else has a good time.”
“Do you have any free time this weekend? Maybe we could do a girls’ spa day.” Leaning over, I cracked my back a bit. “You know we deserve it.”
“Totally. Saturday would rock for that. I have a groupon for a new place just outside the city limits.”
“Getting away from all that neon is an even bigger bonus.” Leaning forward again, I was about to grab some of the powdered sugar when the card fell from my bra. Damn. I’d forgotten to take it out even when I’d slipped into jeans and a V-neck shirt. Scrambling for the card, I groaned when my sister grabbed it first.
“What’s this?” She grinned widely when she read it. “ZOMG! Is this what I think it is? The Ryker Eden? The billionaire with the hottest gambling app out there.”
“It’s an entertainment experience app,” I defended weakly.
“It’s a way to bet on college sports with fantasy teams or some crap. It’s not exactly gambling free.”
“Huh, but he just…he was in my casino.”
“Wow, I thought he only did like the best of the best in the Bellagio.”
I flinched. The casino I claimed to work at was a bit off the main drag and more classic, from back in the eighties. If she thought that was a bit of slumming, I didn’t want to know what she’d think of me as the Green Fairy. Then again, if I saw to it, my sister would never know what I did at night. Ever.
“Well, maybe he and his brother got tired of trolling the same area. He came in, all bluster, flirted with me, and gave me that card. He claims it’s his private line, but I was gonna throw it out when I got home.”
The excuse sounded weak to my ears. I could have thrown it out at any time in the theater, but I hadn’t. I don’t think I could have, even if I’d completely wanted to. Those blue eyes had snared me fully, were all I’d thought about on the drive home.
“You shouldn’t. I mean, okay, he’s like the second most famous manwhore in the city.”
“Who’s the first?”
“His brother, Davis.”
“Perfect.”
“You know, new model or hottie all the time. But!”
“But?”
She rolled her eyes and bit into her pancake with aplomb. “But, Savvy, you haven’t dated anyone in over a year since Samson.”
“I do not want to talk about him.”
“I know, but I thought you’d get over it soon enough. I really did. You haven’t. I’m not saying Ryker would be a happily ever after, but he might be a fun date, a good story for later in life. I don’t know, but all you do is go to work and hang out with me.”
“I happen to like you, Sis.”
“Ditto, but I worry about you. I ask you to come with me out to the clubs and just hang out at like the bar at the Hard Rock or whatever, and you’re always busy.”
Was that true? Had I really been so depressed lately that I was just ignoring my sister? Mostly, I said no because Mary was still young and liked to go to the touristy places. Occasionally, there was overlap, that chance it would cause me to bump into a Bacchanal co-performer. It was just easier to hibernate when I wasn’t at work. Just hide everything.
Keep my shame buried.
“I have a lot of shifts.”
She dropped her fork to her plate with a thud. “I know, but you should try. Even if it’s just a weekend or something, you could at least see if Ryker was serious.”
“I’m sure with his tabloid fame and rep, he wasn’t.”
But as easy as those words were to say, they were much harder to buy. Because I’d seen him lick his lips as he’d talked to me, felt the heat of his body against mine during the dance, and also seen that sincerity in the fathomless depths of his blue eyes. He had meant it. I just wasn’t sure I was brave enough to take him up on the offer, especially if I was going to be a one-time thing for him.
My heart had already shattered once. Besides, I’d never been a one night stand kind of woman. Hell, I’d only gone that far with one other man. With Samson. And the last thing I wanted was to just “have fun.”
But I wanted him.
Damn those cerulean eyes.
“I dunno. I’m not exactly looking for a fling, Mare.”
“Maybe you’ll be the one he settles down with again. You never know. He married once.”
“Yes, because I’m exactly the type of girl who lives a Cinderella life. I’m just average, Mare. Always have been and always will be. I can’t just go out with the biggest billionaire playboy out there.”
“Second biggest.”
“Okay, but the whole family loves ‘em and leaves them.”
My sister leaned forward and pushed an errant strand of dark hair from out of my eye. “Okay, so maybe it’s not Ryker who can help you, but you have to try more, Sis. There’s something missing from you since Samson.”
“I know.”
“There was a fire there, a spark, and I haven’t seen it in over a year. I’m starting to really worry for you.”
Forcing a broad smile to my face, I tried to deflect the conversation so far. Maybe I could just get her to forget all of her pretty valid points. “Okay, so after the mani-pedi spa day, we go to whatever club on the strip you want. You’re right. All we do is work. One day out on the town won’t hurt anything. In fact, it’ll do us both good.”
“You mean it?”
“One hundred percent,” I replied, kissing her cheek. “Now, can we get to eating. My breakfast/dinner is getting cold, and I just want to sleep.”
***
My head barely hit the pillow before I was swept into a deep sleep with so many dreams. Some were bad, memories about Samson brimming to the surface. Some were hopeful, with me on stage in something other than a corset and fishnets, driving the crowd to a standing ovation. But the last one was the best.
After a great, show stopping medley for a real show I was headlining in Las Vegas, as a featured popular singer of course, I was cleaning off in the luxurious four-jet shower in my massive dressing green room. My hair was already lathered up and piled high on my head when a rap came on the door. Looking over, I found Ryker standing there completely naked. Even as I was dreaming, even then, I knew it wasn’t real. Knew enough to know it couldn’t be happening for me, not really and not ever. But for the dream—in this world where there really, truly were no consequences—I could make the impossible something special for me. Even if it never happened in reality.
He stood there before me and, even as the water pounded over my face, I could make out every delicious line of his abs. Well, the abs I imagined he must have had. It wasn’t a hard guess to make based on how well the suit tonight had hung off of him. How broad his shoulders were. This Ryker—fake as he was—stood before me in all his naked glory. My mind filled in the extra lines of his tattoos. The Celtic cross pattern that had teased at the back of his hand and down his cuff now spreading up and over his arm and shoulder, a kaleidoscope of intricate spirals and patterns just for me. His muscular shoulders gave way to a chest that seemed to be carved from stone or marble and then the perfect washboard shape of his abs, at least eight of them stacked on top of each other and so defined that, even in the dream, I had to resist the immediate urge to lick him. A happy trail of hair as dark as his tousled locks and his dark scruff led to his manhood, which was already standing at attention, the thick shaft springing free from testicles clearly heavy with need.
I crossed one leg in front of the other, trying to keep the need from spiraling through me. It was already a hot flame flaring deep in my belly and a residual pounding in my clit. God, I wanted him. Real or not, dream man or not…I craved everything about Ryker Eden.
He smirked at me and showed me his pearly whites. It was a sensuous smile, a devil’
s smile that had probably charmed a thousand different women. Well, tough, it was mine for now, however I had come by it.
“Well, darling, you certainly seem clean, but would you like to get a bit dirty too?”
I nodded even as the power of the jets swept the shampoo out of my hair and left a trail of suds at my feet. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Ryker slid in through the door and shut it tightly after him. Then he sidled up behind me, his erection pressed firmly against the crack of my ass. My clit pulsed, and that flare of heat stretched out from my belly to run up and down my nerves, all the way down to my fingertips. Even with him still not touching me, I moaned with my need and my anticipation. Then, the devilish bastard started kissing me. He had pushed my hair forward over my right shoulder and was now practically laving me with his tongue, kissing every inch of my shoulders and up to the long arch of my neck.
I shuddered again and moaned his name.
He was everything I wanted. At least in my dreams where it was safe to have him.
One large hand wrapped around my breast and started kneading my taut peaks. The other stroked up and down my soapy body, taking an inordinate and awesome amount of time over my rear. I arched back and let him do it, let his talented hands worship every curve he could even as his tongue traced secret patterns on my back where my shoulder blades met.
“God, Ryker.”
“Oh, I’m better than God, honey.”
I chuckled and then hissed in shock and pleasure when he moved his hands and pulled me flush against him, his member filling my crack. Something coy flitted through my mind. I’d never done certain things before, but this was my fantasy, right?
And, like the dream man he was, Ryker kissed my left shoulder, nibbled on it just a little, and then spoke. “I want to take you from behind, darling. Would you like that?”
I bit my lip before finally voicing what was on my mind. “I want anything and everything you’ll give me.”
He chuckled, a low rumbling in his chest that I could feel in my skin with my body pressed hard against him. It was a laugh made of pure sin, teasing all the delights and hidden passions he could teach me.
“I believe that. I truly do. Now, darling, let me get you ready.”
I wasn’t sure what to ask about that, what even my dream Ryker would do, but he bent low and gathered the suds in his left hand and then ran it over the rounded cheeks of my rear. Then he stuck one forefinger in my asshole. I hissed at first, not used to the sensation, not used to any of it. Then he used his other hand to get a bit more soapy water and lubricate me up. It made the sliding in of his second finger so much easier.
So much more simple.
Ryker got into a rhythm, plunging the middle and forefinger of his right hand into me to the hilt then slowly drawing them back out. It worked to create a slow, tortuous pace that left my clit throbbing and my interest peaked but not satiated. Not in the least.
He leaned against my ear and whispered in it, that whiskey-rough voice teasing me with every syllable. “You aren’t even close to a good girl, are you? The Green Fairy is every bit the vixen everyone in the audience thinks she is.”
“For you,” I huffed out between ragged breaths. “For you, I’ll be anything and everything.”
“I just want you to be my queen, nothing more or less.”
“Tall order,” I gasped.
“I think you can fill it, and speaking of filling things…” There was a sensation of fleeting loss as his fingers were removed from my ass, but then the most amazing completion—so full—as he slid his shaft into me, inch by delicious inch, until I could feel his testicles up against my rear. I could feel all of him. He flexed his hips behind me and gave a deep thrust. I shouted and bucked my ass closer to him, hoping he could take me even deeper. If that were even possible.
He reached his hand around to find my aching, needy clit and started to stroke it, even as fireworks exploded across my skin. “I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, Savannah.”
Then there was no more talking, just the animalistic thrust of body over body, the passion and the power that was drawing both of us together. I shifted my hips over and over to meet his powerful plumbing of my deepest depths. His fingers were stroking quickly over my clit, and those fireworks were rising all over my body, a heat more intense than anything I’d ever felt. God, like I was ramping up to be the damn Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve wrapped together.
His pace intensified, and he shifted his own hips just enough to hit the sweetest spot inside of me. I came then, screaming loudly and gripping his side so deeply that if it weren’t a dream, I’d be worried about scratching him. A riot of sensations pounded through my body—the sweet scent of my minty fresh soap, the ragged breaths from Ryker as he kept pounding into me, and those fireworks sending me up like a Roman candle through every nerve.
I relaxed then, eventually came down from a euphoric high I hadn’t known I could reach. After all, I’d never felt that way with Samson, real as he’d at least been. This was new and different. Probably my addled brain and too long alone, but then again, as I looked up into my dream’s facsimile of those haunting eyes, I knew it was more. That Ryker was more. Even if my mind’s eye couldn’t quite get the right shade of blue.
No one but Mother Nature could—and had—done that for Ryker Eden’s unearthly and striking eyes.
Still, there this version of him was smiling at me, that devilish smirk playing on his lips. He leaned close and kissed me, the dark scruff on his chin scraping deliciously against my jaw. Pulling back, he kept smiling. “You are so beautiful, love.”
“I don’t think I am.”
I blinked. Dumbest thing I could ever say in a fantasy. Dumbest thing to say ever.
He stroked my wet hair over my shoulder and down my back. “You’re a goddess, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Before I could answer, my damn alarm clock blared to life. I sat up in bed and rolled my eyes when I saw my sister standing at the foot of it with her auburn hair in braids. I hated that look. I knew that look. My sister had totally heard too much and knew exactly what kind of dream I’d had.
Perfect.
Of course, she had come bringing coffee, so I wasn’t completely allowed to kill her. I needed a good jolt of java to get me up and moving in the morning. Mary grinned as wide as a damn jack o’lantern as she looked at me.
“Have a good night?”
“And morning,” I muttered. It was already one p.m. on my clock. That usually happened. Our hours were so messed up from our different night jobs. “Can I say it was just a regular dream?”
“Um, no. I heard the screaming and panting, and after I checked to make sure you were okay and laughed my ass off, well, I figured after that level of exertion, you needed a big old bout of caffeine.” She walked up next to me and presented the Garfield mug full of coffee. Before I could take it, though, she yanked it back out of my reach. “Nuh-uh. You only get this if you promise you’ll call Ryker.”
“Ah,” I fumbled as my face flushed. “Well, a dream is one thing. It’ll be different in real life.”
“You won’t know until you try,” she sing-songed, still holding the coffee mug just out of reach. “Now, are you calling him, or am I stealing your card and pretending to be you?”
“Fine,” I huffed, still feeling the afterglow despite my big sister annoyance. “I’ll try, but I know he’s not even gonna say yes.”
“He gave you his card.”
And he wants the Green Fairy, I thought. There wasn’t anything about the real me that came close to my glamorous cabaret alter ego. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see. Get me my cell, and then seriously, let me have my coffee STAT.”
Chapter Four
Ryker
“Mr. Eden, we’re worried about Ian.” My son’s teacher—was it Ms. Jones or Jefferson—frowned and slipped off her thick, Coke-bottom glasses.
“I don’t understand. His grades for the last quarter
were excellent. His achievement tests are top of the class. What problems could Ian possibly be having?” I set my hands down under the table and started cracking my knuckles, a nervous habit that drove Davis crazy but I couldn’t avoid. I needed the calming influence.
“Yes, Ian’s a very thoughtful student. In fact, he knows more about science in some areas than Mr. Michaelson does. He is especially in love with dinosaurs.”
“Yes, I know.”
Mrs. Jefferson (probably) sighed and scratched at her graying bun. “He’s a sweet boy, a genuine boy, but I worry the other students won’t ever get to see that. At lunch, he eats by himself, and even when a few kids in the beginning of the school year tried to invite him to eat at their table, he refused. He reads through recess.”
“I didn’t know that.”
And I hated myself for that. It wasn’t even Tandy’s fault. There was no way my son’s nanny would have known any of this either. She couldn’t see him during the school day, and at home Ian was a chatterbox about whatever they were learning that day, especially in science and math. We’d all thought he was happy and adjusting.
How foolish we’d all been.
Mrs. Jefferson smiled and patted my hand. Usually, I’d find the gesture condescending, but I embraced it now. Vulnerability in the boardroom was unforgivable, but I appreciated the human kindness over my son. I’d been struggling ever since Penelope’s death. I’d thought I was gaining ground and being the type of father I needed to be, the type neither Davis nor I had ever had, but clearly you couldn’t do better if you’d only had shitty examples.
“I honestly didn’t know,” I said again, as if my objection could also earn me some form of absolution.
“Yes, but now you do. There are some afterschool social skills groups we have for all sorts of kids, some who deal with grief like your son, and some who may have different developmental disabilities and need the help.”
“My son—”
“…is still mourning. I can’t imagine that kind of loss at nine-years-old, Mr. Eden, but he’s still very upset. He talks about it in some of his essays. I suggest counseling as well. Ian’s a sweet, bright boy with an amazing future ahead of him. He just needs support for the other areas.”
