“I bet. I should really go. I’ve got a long night ahead of me. I’m trying to help Nixon’s entertainment director with alternate venues for the charity event. I know how important it is for him to win the day. And it’s important to me, too.”
I should probably leave right along with her. I’m supposed to meet Nixon back at his place and go over our newest strategy, as well as plan the last details of the benefit for Helping Hands & Hearts. But knowing that this is a chance to spend more time with Taryn…well, I can’t pass that up. Every cell in my body perks up when she’s near me.
“Great set,” Taryn says. She hoists her black leather work tote over one shoulder.
“Wait. Have you eaten yet? I’m really craving Thai food, is there any of that around here?”
She scans some mental map in her head. “I’m sure there is, but I’m more into Indian so I can’t think of anyplace good. And I’m not hungry, exactly…but I could really use a drink.”
“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” I rush backstage, grabbing my briefcase, and checking my hair in the mirror. Satisfied, I meet Taryn in the now empty-club.
“Just, please, nowhere too loud,” Taryn says. “I’ve had a really long day. Someplace quiet would be nice. Where we can talk.
“I know just the place. Come with me.”
I lead Taryn outside of the Armónico. Darkness envelops the city, but you’d never know it from the glow of neon lights. The temperature’s falling a few degrees under the cover of evening. It almost makes me miss New York – one of my favorite things about the city is the hot summer nights.
“That was something,” Taryn says. She glances up at me and blushes, biting her lip. “You’re going to laugh, but when I first walked by and heard your voice, I seriously thought it was because you have a secret comedic twin.”
“Why, because you never thought about me doing stand-up?”
Taryn looks guilty. “Not exactly. Sorry, I don’t mean it in a bad way.”
“It’s fine. Trust me, I’m pretty sure some people who know me much better than you would be equally surprised.” For a moment, I almost laugh as I think of the other partners back at my firm finding out my big dark secret. They’d be equally shocked – and probably not nearly as nice about it as Taryn is being right now. She seems to actually admire me for going after my dream.
“Here we are,” I say, stopping in front of a giant Ferris wheel.
Taryn gives me a skeptical look. “The High Roller? Really?”
“Yeah, why not? It’s new since I was here last. Can’t a city boy partake in the local tourist attractions even though he’s actually a native?”
“You can. It’s just…well, this place can get pretty loud. I’ve entertained clients here before. For some reason, drunks love to frequent the High Roller.”
“Don’t worry about that. They won’t be bothering us. Did you know this is the world’s tallest observation wheel?”
“No,” she says, cocking her head to the side. “I didn’t know that, but I guess I should have known. Vegas is always about bigger and better.”
“It runs parallel to Vegas Boulevard, making it perfect for sightseeing. And, it’s the third most popular attraction in Vegas.” I guide Taryn toward the ticket counter. “Out of almost four hundred and fifty things to do.”
“You do sound like such a tourist,” she says. “Not a native. Should I be embarrassed?”
“You’re forgetting, I am kind of a quasi-tourist,” I say. “This place is as different from New York as night from day. I haven’t lived here in years.”
Taryn falls silent, and I wonder what she’s thinking about. I hope it’s about me.
“Hello, welcome to the High Roller,” a perky blonde says. “Would you like tickets? That’ll be thirty-seven each, please.”
“Actually, I’d like to rent a private car,” I say, pulling out my wallet.
The blonde stares, her eyes widening. She looks me up and down as if she thinks I’m a celebrity in disguise.
“Come now, I’m sure that’s not unusual,” I say. “How much?”
“For a private car with an open bar and bartender, that will be nineteen-hundred, please,” The blonde says smugly. She’s watching Taryn’s face to see if I’m going to chicken out.
Instead, I slide over my American Express Black and turn to Taryn. “So, still feel like that drink?”
Taryn blinks at me. “Um, yeah. That sounds great.”
The blonde swipes my card and hands it back to me with a receipt. I sign with a flourish without even looking – something I’d never normally do. The blonde guides us to a small VIP lounge.
“Your car will be ready soon,” she says, and true to her word, we’re only in the lounge for a few moments before another smiling blonde guides us to our private car. Just as we’ve been promised, a tuxedoed bartender smiles and waits behind a giant bar. When he sees just Taryn and myself, he raises an eyebrow.
“Taryn wanted someplace quiet,” I explain, biting the inside of my mouth, so I won’t sound like an arrogant cocksucker. “So yes, it’ll just be the two of us.”
Taryn’s face breaks out into that smile that makes my cock so hard it’s like a steel rod. “This is great,” she says, walking over to the glass and pressing her nose against it while I admire the perfect globes of her ass. “I’ve never actually done one of these privately. I mean, I have…but there were ten other people with me. And it was all business, so I didn’t have anything to drink, and I couldn’t really stop to admire the view.”
“We’ll fix that,” I said. “What would you like?”
Taryn turns to me with a sly grin. “How about a shot of Clase Azul Ultra?”
I order two and bring Taryn her drink. We sit together on one of the benches, glancing down at the glittering city strip below. It’s breathtaking, but not as much as the woman who’s beside me, heat radiating from her body straight into mine. I wish I could take our bartender and throw him over the side. Too bloody. And Taryn would probably think I belonged in an episode of Game of Thrones.
Taryn sips her drink. “Wow, this is so smooth. It doesn’t burn at all. Be careful.”
I admire the view from within and without as I lean against the glass. The neon sparkles with the light of a thousand stars, but it doesn’t compare to Taryn’s radiant, exquisite face. Especially when she’s not annoyed with me.
“You’re really good at stand-up,” Taryn says. “Mr. Pickles! I can’t believe it. He could call himself Mr. Perverted.”
“Yeah. I mean, there’s a lot of those stories. You wouldn’t believe some of the cases I hear about at partner meetings. I can’t say anything until they’re settled, obviously, but it gives me some good material.”
“I bet.” Taryn takes another slow sip of her tequila. “So…why wouldn’t you ever think about doing this seriously? You could really make it. You’re that good.”
I think I’m already half in love with you.
“I don’t know,” I say, even though I do. “It’s just…well, it’s kind of like a stress release thing for me. It’s the antidote to being a buttoned-up lawyer during the day.”
“I get that, but you’re really good. You could totally switch careers if you wanted. You’ve got the goods.”
I take a long sip of my tequila. It’s incredibly smooth, sliding across my tongue like silk. I’m tempted to knock it back and get a second drink, but I don’t want to get drunk. I’ve come to understand my time alone with Taryn is special, and I don’t want anything to tarnish the glow of our connection.
“Trust me, I’ve thought about it.” I really have – even though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone other than Taryn. “But I can’t. It’s just not right.”
“Why not?” Taryn scoots closer, and a wave of her spicy vanilla perfume hits me. My cock twitches in my pants, and I yearn to pull her close. I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time the bartender has witnessed a little PDA. But I don’t want to be cheap, either. Just because this is Vegas does
n’t mean that I can’t be classy.
“Because it wouldn’t be fun anymore. It wouldn’t be just for me. It would be another career, another thing to worry about. You ever think about how much you’d kill for your dream, only to realize that it’s suddenly turned into a nightmare?”
Taryn blinks, her green eyes reflecting the bright lights of the Strip far below. “Yeah. I guess. I mean, I always knew I wanted to own a boutique, and most of the time, it’s great. But sometimes…” She lifts a shoulder.
“Sometimes it’s not what you expected?”
Taryn nods. She makes a steely face and drains the rest of her tequila. “I always knew there would be obstacles, but not like Dante. I didn’t know they’d be as bad.” She shivers, and I wonder what he’s done to her. And I wonder how I can stop him. “Can I have another drink?”
“Sure.”
Fuck it. I drain the rest of my glass. I still don’t want to get drunk – but a little liquid courage never hurt anyone. I bring both glasses to the bartender, who fills them with a professional detachment. When I return, Taryn’s face is glued to the window.
“I know how you feel,” I say. “I worked really hard to get where I am. So many sleepless nights, and so much time on complicated documents that spent five pages saying the equivalent of two or three well-written paragraphs. Sometimes, I feel like I’m going to explode.”
Taryn nods as she sips her second drink. “Is it worth it?”
I think about that for a moment and close my eyes, picturing my lavish Manhattan condo, my closet full of Rolexes and Calvin Klein suits. For a second, it almost seems like a waste. Then another image pops to mind – my grateful clients, crying and hugging me after a stressful trial and successful verdict. I think of the pro-bono work…and I think of being able to help people like Nixon and Taryn.
“Yeah. It’s completely worth it.” After realizing I’m telling the whole truth, I take a long sip of my tequila. When the High Roller car approaches solid ground again, I can’t believe that my time with Taryn is almost up.
“It’s worth it for me, too,” Taryn whispers. “But sometimes, I can’t help thinking about how my life would be if I’d done something else.”
“Don’t,” I say, putting my finger to her full lips. “I wouldn’t give up what I have for anything – even though there’s so much pressure to look perfect…and be perfect.”
She bites her lip in a way that makes me want to kiss her.
“Maybe Vegas and New York aren’t all that different,” she says thoughtfully, staring into my eyes. A shiver of lust and intensity crawls down my spine. I feel like she’s gazing right into my soul.
“Maybe not. Maybe they’re exactly the same.”
Chapter Sixteen
Taryn
The High Roller sails toward the ground at what feels like an alarming rate.
Reagan looks at me and smiles. “Well, did you have fun?”
“Yes.” I mean it. I’ve never been one for the usual tourist traps, but this ride’s been romantic and charming. Kind of like the man himself. “But I can’t believe it’s almost time to leave.”
“You want another turn around?”
The truth is, I do. Talking candidly with Reagan has shown me a different side of him – a side I never expected to see. Between our date in the High Roller and watching him at Nixon’s comedy club, I’m starting to feel like I completely misjudged him.
The bartender clears his throat, making me jump in surprise. I’d been speaking so intimately with Reagan that I almost forgot about the bartender’s presence.
Reagan gives me a long stare before climbing to his feet and walking over to the bartender. I flush as Reagan pulls his wallet from his back pocket.
“Another go around,” Reagan says, pulling a sheaf of green bills from the calfskin folds. “And here’s an extra tip, just for you.”
The bartender frowns. “Sir, the tip is included in the fee.”
Reagan smirks. “I know, but you did such a good job…I think you deserve a little break.”
The bartender gnaws on his lip. “Sir, that’s against the rules.”
“There are no rules in Vegas,” he says, palming another hundred-dollar bill to the bartender. “Why not take yourself on a little break, and let my friend and I enjoy another trip around?”
The bartender looks at me, and I shrug, feigning a helpless look. “We’ll be fine,” I say, wishing him gone. “Won’t we, Reagan?”
Reagan turns and gives me a smoldering look that sets arousal flooding through my body.
“Oh, yes. We’ll be fine.”
When the bartender still doesn’t reply, Reagan sighs and pulls out three more large bills.
“Here,” he says. “You’ve really cleaned me out. I bet that’s more than you make in a week.”
The bartender stares at the wad of cash like a kid about to lick an ice cream cone. “Behave. I could lose my job over this.”
Reagan grins and draws his finger across his chest. “Cross my heart, we’ll be good. Enjoy your break.”
The bartender gives the High Roller car one last fleeting look before stepping out, locking the car closed behind him.
We’re going to be so good, it’s bad.
“Can I get you a drink?” Reagan asks. “I’m a decent bartender. At least, that’s what my clients tell me.”
I bite my lip and flush. “I’m good for the moment.” My heart pounds and my pussy throbs in anticipation. It admits before my brain that Reagan just paid five hundred dollars to a perfect stranger so he can fuck me at five hundred feet.
“Good,” he says, winking. “Because I don’t really feel like carrying you out of another club, kicking and dancing.”
Reagan makes his way across the car and sits down next to me. A whiff of Givenchy’s Pi for Men floods my senses, and I can’t help blushing again. I don’t know what it is about Reagan, but being with him makes me feel vulnerable, exposed.
“So,” Reagan says, putting an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. “I thought you might like a chance to talk, uninterrupted.”
“I’m sure that guy’s seen stuff that would make your hair curl,” I observe. “He’s probably paid in blow and strippers more than he’s tipped in cash.”
“I didn’t have either on hand,” he says with a wicked grin. “And I wanted to be alone with you.”
His words send a delicious shiver down my spine, and I gnaw on my lip, staring into his deep blue eyes.
“Why?” I whisper, wanting him to say it out loud.
I want to fuck you, Taryn. I want to spear you with my giant cock until you pulse around me.
Reagan doesn’t reply. He tangles his fingers in my hair and pulls me close, pressing his mouth to mine. There’s dark stubble covering his jaw, and it rubs against my skin. It almost hurts, but I enjoy the sensation. Somehow, it reminds me that I’m really here, kissing the most incredible man I’ve ever not just met. This new and improved version of Reagan Caldwell makes my knees wobble with a desire I’ve never known.
“Taryn,” Reagan pants in my ear, breaking the kiss and nibbling on my earlobe. His teeth and warm tongue send another amazing shiver of lust down my spine, and I gently push him away and crawl onto his lap. My skirt hikes up as I spread my legs and cuddle close to Reagan’s chest, wrapping my arms around his neck. When he kisses me, he slides his tongue into my mouth, and I moan. He tastes delicious – like man, with a hint of booze – and I feel a tingle all over my body as our kiss grows deeper.
Everything about him makes me yearn to spread my legs and expose myself to him. I split my thighs apart as far as I can without it being painful. Reagan wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close until my pussy is right over his groin. I can feel his hard shaft through his pants. Wetness floods my panties, and I stifle a groan as Reagan grinds his sex against mine.
He runs his hands up and down my back, gently rubbing and scratching until I’m practically screaming at him to fuck me. This isn’t like bef
ore – a quiet but intense town car orgasm. This is better. I feel practically drunk with lust as Reagan slips his fingers under the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. The cool air of the High Roller car chills my skin, and I shiver.
“Cold?” Reagan asks before kissing my neck.
“No,” I murmur. “Just right.”
My fingers tremble as I fumble with the buttons on his shirt, eager to expose his muscular chest. He shudders under my touch, and I stroke my hand down his smooth skin, admiring the months of obvious work he’s put into chiseling his body. There’s a small tattoo on his shoulder that I’ve never noticed before, and I dip my head to his chest, kissing and licking the salty, musky skin.
Reagan shudders under my touch, and I feel powerful. Brazen. I want this man with every fiber of my being, and at the same time, I want him to know it.
“I never knew you had a tattoo,” I say. “I wouldn’t have guessed that about you. You’ve started surprising me. In the best ways.”
The air fills with erotic tension and electricity – I somehow expect that touching Reagan will shock my fingers. But instead, our bodies behave like magnets, pulling every inch of my bare skin toward his. I can’t stay away from him. I want to rip off my clothes and throw myself into his arms, just to feel his perfect chest against breasts.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Reagan growls. “But you’re going to learn. Right now.”
He tangles his hand in my hair again and pulls my head back. When I feel his hot lips and tongue against the sensitive skin of my neck, I arch to grant him better access. Reagan goes lower and lower, kissing the swell of my breasts as I lean away from him. My nipples are as hard as pebbles inside my lace bra, and when I feel Reagan’s hot breath on my sensitive skin through the material, I about lose it. No man’s ever made me feel this way. Ever.
Reagan slips his hands into the cups of my bra, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples until I’m wriggling on his lap, trying to increase the pressure on my throbbing clit. He’s going too slowly. Being too patient. I grind on his hard cock, counting the seconds until he slides inside of me and takes me the way I want him to. For once, I’m not in complete control, and I’m not sure I can handle it. I lean forward and kiss him, having to claim some part of him on my terms, moaning into his mouth as he rubs and pinches my nipples. The arousal flooding my body overwhelms me, and I’m soon whimpering and panting into Reagan’s mouth.
Tightwad (Caldwell Brothers Book 2) Page 13
