Waking Up in Vegas

by Stephanie Kisner

  God, I wanted to kiss her right then. But I also wanted to keep on falling headfirst into that stare.

  I shifted my hips until my cock was ready to head on home, too mesmerized to break away from her gaze. She was so damn wet. It took every last thread of my unraveling control to not plunge in headlong and damn the consequences. So even though it killed me, I slowly eased inside, her name a mantra on my lips, the entrancing woman who saved me and ruined me, now and forever.

  When I was buried as deep as I could get, she gasped and I stilled, as much out of wonder as from fear that I might pass out from some sort of emotional short-circuit. Or maybe an aneurism.

  “I love you, Jen,” I whispered, looking right into her widening eyes. She responded with a slight smile, then another gasp when I shifted my hips.

  I hadn’t meant to say those words again, not wanting her to feel pressured to return them, nor set myself up for disappointment if she didn’t. But, once they were out there, floating in the air above us, I realized that her response was irrelevant. What was important was that I say them, over and over until they were imprinted on her skin.

  So I said it once more, low and soft against her lips before I claimed them in a kiss that robbed me of breath.

  She was exquisite, she was captivating… and she was leaving me.

  It really was goodbye, this last step, me inside her, the one I hadn’t wanted to take for that very fucking reason.

  Sometimes being right sucked donkey ass.

  Enough melancholy. These were my last minutes with Jen and I was spending them working my way into a major depression, for chrissake.

  I uttered an oath and began a slow slide out of her body, only to sink back in with the same unhurried pace. Jen slipped one hand into my hair, twisting a strand in her fingers and pulling roughly.

  I broke away from her kiss just enough to let both of us grab a breath, then dove in again, nipping at one lip, then the other, still doing the leisurely glide with my hips. I groaned, unsure how much longer I could keep up the slow pace when all my instincts implored me to drive into her like a piston.

  Again, we were on that exact same page. “Jesus, Tack. You’re teasing me to death.” Her rough murmur was straight up carnal candy to my ears.

  I slammed into her once, hard, bringing a quiet cry from her throat. “Is this what the lady is requesting?” I smirked down at her and she smiled wickedly in return.

  “That is exactly what the lady is requesting.” Her eyes flashed and she nestled her hips tighter against mine.

  Rearing back for leverage, I began pounding into her welcoming heat, wishing it would never have to stop. Her breathy moans spurred me on; the frenzy of her hips, meeting me thrust for thrust, was driving me just about out of my mind.

  “Fuck!” The sharp bite of her nails scraping down my back left me growling out senseless curses and hammering her like I wanted to do damage. To which one of us, I wasn’t sure.

  When I hooked one of her legs over my bicep, changing the angle and plundering even deeper, she screamed, “Tack! Oh my God!”

  I won’t ever forget the ethereal beauty of her face as she came apart.

  She started to pulse around my cock and I had to tear my gaze away, throwing my head back with a roar. I honestly couldn’t handle another stroke; the squeezing in my balls danced on the edge of pain. The damn condom wasn’t going to be able to withstand the blasts that kept coming as I rode out the orgasm of my life.

  I felt myself die a little inside, there were supernovas going off overhead (or maybe it was just me, on the edge of consciousness) and my shaky arms gave way. I pulled Jensen close, and I couldn’t tell which one of us was trembling. Maybe it was both.

  Chapter 23

  *Basket Case*

  “Can we leave yet?” Jen whispered close to my ear.

  “Jen, staying ten minutes at your own goodbye party is really tacky.”

  “Fifteen minutes, then?” She’d dropped down off her tiptoes and cuddled into my chest. It didn’t feel the least bit odd, this public display in front of all the people we’d tried so hard to hide our relationship from. Then again, we’d also tried to hide it from ourselves.

  “My mother would probably pass out from bliss if she heard me say this, but good manners dictate we have to stay for at least an hour.” I brushed my lips over the top of her head.

  “Half an hour.” She wasn’t asking this time.

  “A whole hour, Jen.”

  “I wanna get you naked.”

  I groaned into her hair. “You win.”

  I felt her smile against my pecs. “Have you seen BK? We should greet the boss before we disappear,” she said.

  “No, but he hardly ever comes to these things. He doesn’t like to be social with all us underlings.” And, considering that he was kissing his shiny new ratings-dynamo goodbye, it was no wonder he’d stayed away. Although I still considered everything to be his fault. He should have just kept that open Phoenix time-slot to himself.

  Twenty minutes later, when we were there precisely half an hour, we slipped away and had a private party on my mattress.

  Jen had no idea she’d popped my cherry.

  Friday night, sinking into her moist heat for the second time was truly a first for me. I was enthralled with learning what made her gasp, what made her sigh, with exploring each and every way to make her come.

  Completely without regard to whether or not I did.

  Just for the record, that was Jen’s department. And she supplied orgasms that had me seeing stars.

  Sex had always been satisfying and a fun way to pass the time, but, before Jensen, making a woman come first had only been about the mechanics of it. About finding which of the tried-and-true ways worked for the lady I’d gotten naked with.

  Exploring a partner for the pure enjoyment of it had been rare, and once I’d stretched on a condom, the mystery was always over before I’d even taken the first stroke. All that friction was just a downhill run to the finish line.

  With Jensen, I wanted her shuddering into unconsciousness, screaming herself raw, and ending up a boneless heap underneath me.

  Or on top of me.

  Since my house had never been the place for my sexcapades, I had a lot of room-christening to make up for.

  Today was Saturday, a full day off for us both, and by sundown every room in my house had been deflowered. Some more than once.

  My ass hurt, my legs were sore, and my balls felt like a shriveled-up, deflated balloon. I didn’t think I could handle one more orgasm.

  Problem was, Jen had morphed into some sort of sex monster, and when you consider that the most clothing she’d worn all day was her panties paired with one of my tees, you can see my conundrum.

  I’d just have to keep my hands to myself until tomorrow. I’d sit on them, if need be. Besides, the dogs deserved a break, too; every time we started something in a room without a door, Lita and Angus got shoved out into the yard.

  “Christ. I can’t move,” I said to Jen as she hobbled into the living room with a fresh bottle of wine and a bag of grapes. “The pizza should be here soon and I won’t be able to get up and answer the door.”

  “I’m sore in places I didn’t know could get sore. I seriously need a break ‘til morning.” She plopped ungracefully onto the sofa next to me, narrowly missing landing in my lap.

  “You are walking kind of funny.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  I grunted as she elbowed me in the ribs—I was shocked to find they harbored a little ache, too.

  “I’d raise my hand, but I don’t think that’s possible right now.”

  “Poor Tack. I guess you’ll just have to get your nourishment by watching me eat.” She slumped into the cushions, taking a handful of grapes from the bag. She made a production of examining each one before popping it into her mouth with a groan.

  I felt myself start to stiffen at her low, hoarse voice. And here I thought my poor dick was spent. Once again, Jensen
proved me wrong.

  Good thing I’d already paid with my credit card when I called to order the extra-large deep-dish. I stuck a ten-dollar tip on the door with a note to leave the pizza on the stoop.

  Much later, as I drifted off to sleep with a belly full of Meat Supreme and Jensen using the nook under my arm for a pillow, I marveled at how things had changed. And how much they maybe hadn’t.

  We’d managed to avoid any discussion of Jensen leaving. It was like a semi-truck was parked in the middle of the room and we were both working hard to pretend it was invisible.

  Tomorrow, the thing would become solid and real and we’d be forced to deal with it. Because she was either piling into her car and leaving by mid-afternoon, or she wasn’t. And I still didn’t know which one it was.

  Suddenly, the bed felt emptier with her lying next to me than when she wasn’t here at all.

  ***

  I eased out from under Jensen shortly after ten on Sunday morning. She looked adorably sleep-rumpled, and too exhausted for me to wake her up yet. There were dark smudges under her eyes, and her breathing hardly altered as I tucked the covers back around her sleeping form.

  Hoping a blast of steamy water would pound my knotted muscles into submission, I’d opted for a solo shower today. Plus, the time alone gave me time to practice faking my surprised face. I was certain that, sometime today, Jen would be fessing up that she’d changed her mind.

  There’s just no way she could be planning to leave anymore.

  Without warning, the memory of the shower we’d shared yesterday afternoon invaded like a freight train. I’d slammed her against the tile walls, wrapping her legs around my waist and hammering into her welcoming body until the water ran cold.

  Tack Junior was quickly rising to the occasion and it seemed a shame to deflate him with a blast of icy. So I twisted the taps until the water shut off, giving myself a perfunctory swipe with a towel to stop the drips. The bath sheet somehow smelled of her perfume, even though it was fresh from the cupboard. I knotted it around my waist and opened the bathroom door quietly—my plan was to wake her by sneaking back under the covers. I didn’t want the sound of the door coming unstuck from its humidity-swollen frame taking that opportunity away from me.

  I shouldn’t have bothered with all the silent. The bed was empty.

  Thinking maybe she was in the tiny powder room near the kitchen, I started heading in that direction. We’d only indulged in that room once, and the small counter was the perfect height to poise her ass while I rail into her this fine morning.

  Jensen met me halfway there, fully dressed in sweats and a tee shirt. She had a slice of cold pizza balanced on one hand.

  And a large suitcase in the other, still dusty from the garage.

  All thoughts of lovemaking shriveled as a burn started low in my gut.

  “Morning, Handsome,” she said around a mouthful of meat and cheese.

  “Forget something in your luggage?” I asked carefully.

  She rolled her eyes. “Gotta pack, ya doofus. This one’s for the dirty stuff. I’ll do laundry at my mom’s.”

  And there it was. That semi-truck we’d danced around now had two fucking trailers attached, solid and weighty and sitting squarely on my chest, making it impossible to breathe.

  I glanced down at the Samsonite in her hand, and the dingy gray had morphed into a deep crimson before my very eyes. I’d never suspected seeing red was more than just an expression, but everything had turned scarlet, and, strangely, a little shaky, like I was having my own private earthquake.

  Or maybe that was from the shards of my heart bouncing off the carpet like bowling balls.

  I reached out, ripping the heavy case from her fingers and flinging it away. It bounced off the living room wall before landing on the sofa. Its impact only left an unsatisfying dent in the sheetrock, so I went over and finished the job.

  There. Now the dent was a fucking hole, roughly the size of my fist.

  I stood there, taking in the damage that I had caused, trying to get my breathing under control. Well, that was pretty stupid, I realized, shaking the plaster out of my knuckles. It's not like I could change Jen's mind by doing a Hulk-smash through the walls of my own damned house.

  But I was angry enough to do exactly that.

  Jensen, damn her stubborn heart all to hell, didn’t so much as flinch. Her chin lifted another inch into the air and she reared back her arm.

  Was she going to punch me?

  I got a faceful of greasy pepperoni and ham.

  Stunned, I spat out, “You hit me with your pizza?”

  “It was all I had handy,” she said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t think my fist would make enough of an impact to snap you out of it.”

  “Snap me out of what?” I said, picking a chunk of sausage out of my ear. “Me being angry that you’re still leaving is not something I’ll just snap out of.”

  “Well, you’d better find a way,” she said over her shoulder as she stalked to the couch for the suitcase. “Did I ever say I was staying? Did I even give the impression that anything whatsoever had changed?”

  “We had sex!” I was bellowing now, and screw it if the neighbors heard. Hell, they could probably hear me in Reno.

  She started to push past me, holding the suitcase like a battering ram. “And? If every woman you had sex with moved into your house afterward, there’d be no room to breathe in here.”

  I started to reply that she was being ridiculous, since I’d never brought a woman home before her, but in all reality, none of this was making any sense, anyway. “You really don’t get it,” I said, my voice low and even.

  Jen stopped a few steps down the hall, spinning to face me. “No, Tack, I don’t. You say you love me, and I’m trying like hell to believe you.” She fisted her free hand onto her hip. “I do care about you. Maybe we can try the long-distance thing, since it’s only a few-hour drive. Or maybe not, if you’re going to act all caveman like this.”

  “Caveman?” I latched onto the thing she’d said that hurt the least. “What the hell is wrong with wanting to be near the woman I’m in love with?”

  She sighed at that and unclenched her hand. “Not a damn thing. It’s just that this time, you can’t have what you want just because you want it.” She set down the suitcase and took a step closer. “Tack, think about it. We both know your life was uncomplicated before I got here. You could screw any woman you pleased, and as often as you liked. You can have that back now, with no strings.” She shook her head, muttering, “Jesus, it’s like I took your virginity or something.”

  I narrowed my eyes at that last part. She had no idea just how true that was. “You sort-of did. I’ve never, ever in my adult life had sex with the same woman twice. Except you.”

  Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline and her voice was just above a whisper. “Are you serious?”

  Standing in my hall was not the place I’d pictured having this conversation, but whatever. “Once was always enough. I learned early on that the first time I got my dick inside a woman, she was done with me. So, until you, there were never any second rounds.” Every word of my admission cut me like a straight-razor and I swear I felt my soul start to bleed.

  Jensen’s reply flayed me wide open. “I hope you don’t lump me into that shallow, selfish category with them.” She cocked her head and finished softly, “Although now, since I’m the one walking away, I really wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

  She left the suitcase in the hall, and turned away to go fetch two other bags from her room that I didn’t even know she’d packed.

  “I wasn’t going to leave until later, but in light of everything, I think it’s best if I just go now.” She hitched the shoulder strap of her duffel a little higher and jangled Angus’s leash to bring him running. “I’ll come back next weekend to pick up the rest of my clothes.”

  I watched her fingers move as they clipped the lead to her dachshund’s collar. Those same fingers spiraled her hous
ekey off the sparkly AC/DC keychain I’d gotten her. “Here’s the key back.”

  I just shook my head. “Keep it. Everything you own is here. Including me.”

  Her eyes grew big and haunted. Without another word, she wrapped the leash around her wrist, scooped up her suitcase, and left.

  ***

  I don’t know how long I sat on the sofa, staring off into space. I’d tried calling my mom, I’m not sure why. It’s not like she was the most sympathetic person. Maybe it was just for the familiarity of her voice.

  She didn’t answer.

  I have no idea what I would have told her, anyway. She didn’t know about me and Jen, and I really didn’t want to rehash everything just so I could wind up the story with It’s over; The End. So at the beep, I simply said, “She left me, Mom. She’s gone,” and hung up.

  Let her wonder.

  The shadows grew long through the gauzy living room curtains, and eventually, it dawned on me that I hadn’t seen Lita in a while.

  I found her on Jensen’s bed. She refused to come when I called her, instead plopping her head on her paws with a grumble. “I’m sorry, Lita-girl. They both went away.”

  She whined again, this one a long, drawn out whimper that didn’t seem to stop when she took a breath.

  I knew exactly how she felt.

  I left her to her misery, because in this case, mine didn’t want company.

  Unless it came packaged as a caramel-haired, amber-eyed tiny whirlwind who came back to say she’d changed her mind.

  “Am I not good enough?” I asked the empty living room. My gaze settled on the ceramic table lamp next to Jen’s favorite corner of the couch. “How ‘bout it, lamp? Am I not good enough for her?”

  It didn’t answer.

  So I picked it up and hurled it across the room.

  The shattering sound was nice, but once it was over, I didn’t feel any better. I eyed the cracked plaster and the shards of broken lamp, realizing that all I’d done was make an even bigger mess than I was already in.

  I was still angry enough to break something else, though, and found myself glaring at the coffee table. “So, table, tell me—what did I do wrong?”