One Night in Vegas

by Mari Carr, Red Phoenix, Angel Payne, Sierra Cartwright, Jenna Jacob, Victoria Blue

  “Those are wonderful words to hear, lass.” He tilted his head, seemingly fixated with the rhythm of his fingers, driving them higher, harder, deeper inside. “Since that’s exactly what I plan on taking.”

  As her womb clenched tighter, she bit into her bottom lip. Perhaps the pain would hold back a fraction of the aroused flood down her channel. Massive fail. Sam’s grin, bold and wicked, told her so. The expression conflicted with the rest of his face, all ginger choir boy openness—though instead of a hymnal, he held her soaked, trembling arousal. Just a glance down there had her squirming and pleading with fresh abandon.

  “Now.” She arched up, needing more. “Take it now then, Sam. I can’t hold on for much—”

  Her own scream was her interruption, exploding as he withdrew from her core—before swiftly smacking her sensitive mound. She glared but was quelled by his new scrutiny, now stripped of the grin. “You’ll be holdin’ on as long as I tell you to. Is that clear?”

  “Are you freaking—” She yelped as he spanked her once more. “Okay, okay. We’re clear. We’re clear!”

  Just like that, he was a choir boy again. No. An angel. With the last of the day’s light spilling in behind his head, limning his hair in gold, he truly looked like a fallen seraph from the sky, dropped here to show her a new definition of heaven—

  Especially as he rose up, unzipped his slacks, then freed his erection.

  A stunned sigh spilled out of her.

  He was…

  magnificent.

  Mighty veins trailed the length of his stalk, pulsing so strongly that it bobbed a little. A hiss escaped him as he spread the milky drops from its tip down over the dark red flesh, which seemed stretched to capacity. Even the sacs at the base were taut yet full. Sam groaned as he wrapped his hand around them then squeezed, disciplining his own body now. Jen watched every inch of his movements in fascinated awe. He was so big, throbbing with such power…how was he ever going to fit all of that flesh inside of her? The conflict sent a frisson of fear down her spine. And even more arousal to her pussy.

  No time for second thoughts.

  Not as he opened the nightstand drawer, found a packet emblazoned with the telltale Trojan’s head along with the Nyte’s starry logo, and efficiently tore it open. Not as he slid the latex from inside it over the shaft that had become practically a flagpole between them. Not as he yanked it over that broad, beautiful cock, groaning as he got to the end, squeezing his balls again.

  Certainly not as he leaned in, pushed her knees out with his own, and fitted his body into the apex of hers.

  The bulb of his sex nudged the entrance of hers. Jen sucked in a harsh breath, waiting for the hot stretch of her intimate tissues.

  He suddenly halted.

  Pulled in a long breath of his own.

  “If we’re going to stop, you must tell me now.” He inhaled again, raking a hand up until his fingers bracketed the chain connecting her cuffs. “The torture’s been cruel enough, stayin’ away this long.”

  She almost laughed. Almost. Torture. The term fit. Every moment that went by—every damn millisecond—was another eternity in the wait they endured. The anticipation of the fire their bodies would finally spark together, give to each other…

  “I don’t want to stop.”

  His growl was so long and strong, she felt it to her toenails. “Thank God.”

  Without saying anything else, he entered her.

  Jen cried out in a mixof pleasure and pain. “Hell!” And he wasn’t even completely in. Damn. She’d been right. Fitting all of him inside all of her wasn’t going to be the one-plunge-ecstasy they showed on all the romantic cable TV shows.

  Another thrust.

  “Fuck!”

  On the other hand, maybe it was.

  In the aftermath of the word they yelled together, Sam rose high enough to stare at her again. Gone was the suitor who would’ve stopped at a peep of protest from her. He’d become something primitive, eyes like moonlight on a dagger blade, mouth parted hungrily, damned and determined to fuck her exactly like the saber tooth he’d just reminded her of.

  And ohhhh, how he did.

  Fully. Ferociously. Damn near fanatically. He was passionate—Jen could’ve predicted that just from watching him command jets across the desert—but this was beyond stomping on the throttle. This was heat and hunger and need, a beast sating its starvation, a conquering that didn’t just seduce her desire. It demanded the depths of her spirit, the fiber of her being. If he was the saber tooth and she his prey, she was eviscerated. Splayed for his desecration.

  She never wanted it to end.

  Her bondage only made the experience better. Not being able to touch him in return…she’d anticipated that it would be frustrating, and it was, but once she saw what relinquishing her power did for him, her body sizzled with brand-new awareness. She was open for him. Showing him everything. Giving him everything…

  Reveling as he took it.

  He laved her breasts and nipples with new licks and bites. Explored her flesh with eager hands, stroking every curve and crevice. Seared her senses as he finally inserted a hand between her legs, seeking the bundle of nerves that pulsed strongest for him.

  Fucked her harder, as he stroked there.

  “Sam!” She shuddered as he flicked her flesh, over and over and over.

  “Yes, mo luaidh?”

  “Oh…shit…that’s—that’s—”

  “Just the kind of commentary I like.” There was a smile in his voice. She couldn’t see his face anymore, since her head was jacked back, grinding into the mattress. Crazy little stars danced in her vision.

  “I—it’s—” So much. Too much. Please stop. Please don’t stop. “I don’t know if I can—”

  “Of course you can. And you will.” He doubled his tempo. Her sex shivered. Her thighs trembled. “Take it, sweet Jenny. All of me…and all of you, too. Let it all in, darlin’. Let it take over.”

  On the last of it, his voice rolled through a bed of glass. Hearing the fray of his resistance just disintegrated hers. Pressure pulled and growled, jerking like a wild animal on a tether, until she had no more lead rope left for it. Once it ran the rein taut, she’d break.

  And she did.

  Only the animal didn’t tear loose from her.

  The animal became her.

  A scream, high and feral, burst from her lips. Heat, wild and wonderful, invaded her pussy. She could think of nothing, react to nothing, but the orgasm that tore her apart and the man who’d given it to her. She locked her legs against Sam’s back, urging him deeper, needing as much of his cock as she could get, longing for him to follow her into the shimmering, shattering abyss.

  “Please,” she heard herself panting. “Oh God, Sam. Please. I need you here. I need—”

  “Ssshhh. I know, sweet one. I know.”

  But he didn’t. If he had, he’d be pounding into her harder, instead of kneading the top of her mound in that strange way. Then fucking her at that strange new angle. Then grunting hard, as if fighting to dead lift five hundred pounds instead of—

  “Oh!”

  Instead of making her feel like…

  What on earth…

  “What the hell is—”

  That?

  Her sex convulsed all over again. At least she thought it did. It was an orgasm, only better. Deeper. If she was an animal before, she was an alien life form now, gripped by sensations so new and wild, they pulled crazy, whining sounds from deep in her throat. Her hips couldn’t stop bucking. Her skin was electric…everywhere. And she was damn sure she’d never let Sam Mackenna pull his body out of hers after this—if she survived this.

  “That’s my girl. That’s right. Let it happen.”

  As if she had a choice. As if her trembling body—and his staggering skill—would let her consider a shutdown of this ecstasy. It moved through her like a tsunami, quiet but devastating, ripping her senses from their moorings, spinning her awareness into another galaxy. Screams
tumbled from her, filled with thoughtless abandon and pure surrender, of I-don’t-give-a-damn-who-hears lust. It spurred Sam’s pace, doubling his thrusts. The slaps of their bodies were like erotic gunshots on the walls, dueling with passion and power, straining through every muscle in his body…through every inch of his cock.

  “Jenny. Fuck!”

  She didn’t recognize the third word that spilled out, something brutal and Gaelic and sexy, before he punched deep, clenched tight then moaned hard. His torso, encircled by her legs, coiled hard. His balls, flush against her ass, stiffened and pulsed.

  His cock exploded deep inside her.

  Her heart burst right along with it.

  The knowledge that she could give this to him…that maybe, just maybe, he’d experienced a fraction of the bliss that she’d known…

  Yeah. “Burst” was the best word for it.

  She lay in pieces, uncaring about picking them all up. Not yet. Please not yet. For just a few moments more, she needed to let the fragments dance a little, basking in the heat and fire and miracle that was Sam Mackenna. A lover like she’d never known before. Would likely never know again…

  “Hey.”

  Sam’s anxious tone yanked her brain back to reality. Well, that was a start for getting her shit back together. “Huh? What?”

  “You awrite?” His version of the expression, turning the last two words into one, never failed to melt her heart. “You’re not hurt anywhere, are you, mouse?” Not waiting for an answer, he unhitched the wrist cuffs then pulled out and rolled beside her. “Shit. I did hurt you. Where? How? Why didn’t you say—”

  She pulled on his hair, forcing his head down until their lips slammed, before countering, “I would have said something, had there been anything to say.” Though she gentled her hold, she kept her fingers tangled in his copper waves. “I’m not hurt.”

  At least not in that way.

  Damn it, not in any way. You read the manual on one-night stands, right? Chapter one, line one? “Though shalt not carry forth the pre-orgasmic feels into post-coital conversation”.

  It was time to walk the talk.

  Trouble was, she didn’t know if she could take a single damn step at the moment.

  “So what is it?” A deeper growl threaded Sam’s voice, backed by the command in the finger he jerked beneath her chin. Jen forced out a self-deprecating smile.

  “I’m…just being stupid. Indulging in too much Jane Austen lately.” And Emily Brontë. And Diana Gabaldon. And Nicholas Sparks. Okay, maybe not him. The last thing she needed to end this thing with was a call to room service for three boxes of tissue to mop up her tears.

  “I happen to like Jane Austen.”

  Because you had to get more perfect than you already were.

  “Caleb, Dirk and the others would probably revoke your guy card for that.”

  “Which is why I may need to fuck a vow of silence into you.”

  Yes. He really was perfect. Evoking Austen one moment, wetting her sex the next with his nasty growl and naughty grin. After kissing him to confirm her approval of that plan, she decided to let honesty take over. He’d get it out of her eventually, anyway. “Sam.” She splayed fingers along his jaw. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

  He pushed his face against her touch, abrading her fingers with his stubble. “Because we’re bloody idiots. At least I am. When I think of all the fantasies I’ve had of you in the last nine months…”

  “Wait.” She didn’t hide her gape. “Fantasies? About me?” A new thought struck. “Riiight. And half the other girls on base too, yeah?” But when his stare didn’t waver, then turned that earnest shade of pewter, she gulped. “Shit. Sam.”

  For another long moment, he didn’t say anything. Kept his face fitted into her palm, watching her in silent contemplation. “Mouse,” he finally murmured. “There was…a reason…why they sent me over for the cross-training.”

  “Besides the fact that you can turn a fighter jet into poetry?”

  Her compliment could’ve been in Swahili for all its effect on him. “I wasn’t…in a good place. The deployments finally started taking their toll—or so everyone enjoyed telling me. Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Afghanistan again…”

  “God.”

  “Stop.” His violent bite betrayed a truth she’d long suspected. Enduring anything he saw as pity was like forcing him to swallow rat poison. “I wanted them, Jen. Every single one of those assignments was an honor. I would’ve gone again, had they called. I wanted to go again.”

  “Why?” She didn’t hide the confusion. Sure, she knew the shit from all the pilot boy rah-rah speeches. Through adversity to the stars. True heroes run to the danger. The sky is no longer the limit. But he’d carried his share of those torches and then some.

  “It was…easier.” He grimaced. Though he knew it for a truth, he didn’t like it. “The missions, the pace, the noise, the violence. When your world is consumed by all of that, it’s effortless to block out the rest. The rest of life just…freezes, I suppose. At least in your mind, yeah? You just think of it all like leaves caught in ice.”

  “Until they’re thawed out.”

  “Until they’re thawed out.”

  “And you hope they’re still there.”

  “And you hope they’re still there.”

  “But they’re not.” She trailed the center of his sternum with her fingers. The comfort she’d hoped to give him…not happening. The flesh beneath her touch remained taut as stone. She pushed on anyway, “You find out that the ice turned into a river, and carried them away.”

  He rolled to his back, yanking the sheet up to his waist. “And you don’t even recognize the river anymore.” His stare, fixed on the ceiling, darkened. “Even the bridges you remembered are gone. And everyone who meant anything to you before…is standing on the other shore.”

  Jen pushed up until her face hovered over his. “I’m right here. On this shore.”

  She shook a little as she proclaimed it. The words felt huge. Risky. Yet never so right. If he laughed her off, so be it. There had been few things she meant more in her life.

  Sam didn’t laugh. “I know.” He tucked her head against his chest. “I know—which is why I’ll never stop thankin’ them for sendin’ me here.” Beneath her cheek, his big body rose and fell with a deep breath. “Thank God for you, Jenny Thorne. Thank fuckin’ God for you.”

  She was damn glad for the bulk of him beneath her now—considering how the universe just listed on its axis. Was this happening? Was he confessing something like that right now? If so, then what the hell was ‘that’, anyway? They’d been blessed with nine months of an awesome friendship then one hour of wall-rattling sex. Neither dictated he owed her anything more than a little pillow chatter.

  But now, he said things that didn’t just somersault her stomach or even zing her pussy. This was the kind of shit that clutched a girl’s soul. Made her believe in—

  Things that weren’t going to happen.

  Not tonight.

  Not in this lifetime.

  It was best to get it through her head—and her heart—right now.

  Easier said than done. Much easier. She’d never been the one playing this part. The whole pulling-away-with-fake-regret thing…it was about as comfortable as a mammogram, especially when there was nothing feigned about the emotion. She wanted nothing more than to be apart from Sam long enough to let him discard the condom, then come back and get tangled with her again. Maybe they’d even get under the covers and see what developed from there. The tension across his face, also defined in his chest as he propped on an elbow, spoke his own approval of that plan.

  “I need to pee.” She forced out the words. They lent the strength she needed to push off the bed. Maybe locking herself in the bathroom, far away from his body and his eyes and his scent, would give her more. She grabbed up her clothes, just in case. Please, God. I just need to get out of here. Once Sam was three stories away, she could sort through everything. She had
to. There was still the wedding to get through. Real social time near the man, not situations she could avoid by pretending there was work on her desk or files to get to. She had to determine what feelings were safe to keep out on the mental shelves, and which ones to lock deep inside the emotional cabinets.

  But the ambient lights in the bathroom, flickering to life as she entered, shattered those shelves to pieces.

  No. Not the lights.

  What they illuminated.

  His dress clothes for the wedding tomorrow, arranged perfectly on the bathroom’s garment rack.

  A dress blazer in dark gray. A white silk shirt to go beneath it, along with a brocade vest in hunter green. The same green was woven with red and white to form the plaid design of the pressed wool kilt. Lined up on the floor beneath was a pair of black leather boots, shined to perfection. They’d probably hit Sam at mid-calf. The muscles would push at the leather, emphasizing his physical power…

  Ohhhh, God.

  She had no idea she’d also groaned it aloud, until Sam’s urgent call came through the door. “Mouse? Everything awrite?”

  She yanked the door back open.

  To surrender her breath to shock once again.

  Viewing him now, standing at full height, just made his nudity more glorious. The only icing that could perfect this cake could’ve been his erect—

  Damn.

  Looked like the flesh between his thighs wanted to rise to that standard, as well.

  “Okay. I finally get it.”

  Sam frowned. “Huh?”

  “Fate has shown its ultimate purpose.”

  “Truly?” One more justification for adoring him. What she’d blurted wasn’t weird to him. He simply rolled with it as a new direction in the conversation. “And what purpose would that be?”

  He leaned against the jamb, arms folded, indulgent grin forming. The pose emphasized his incredible pecs, his beautiful quads…and yeah, that beautiful, hard ridge, right at the center of things…continuing to tempt her gaze into his unique Sam sin…