“But…”
He withdrew a fraction, then pressed forward. Pain flared. “See? You’re not ready.”
I didn’t care—sensations too intense to ignore rose inside but LeVan held himself apart, toying with my clit while he remained frozen in place. Unconsciously, I began to rock my hips against his hand. That was when he started to thrust inside me, slow at first, but as I relaxed around him, he moved deeper, harder, faster.
The pleasure, when it finally hit me full force, was so visceral, it knocked the air from my lungs and I thrashed, trapped between him and the bed. He gripped my hips now, holding me still for his possession and I moaned, so needy and desperate.
He didn’t make me wait.
He shafted me, over and over, and I cried out his name, over and over.
As the orgasm rose up and swallowed me, I heard him moan.
I felt him come, his cock jerking and pulsing inside me.
Moments later, I felt his head come to rest on my spine.
Dazed, sleepy, I managed to smile, although I winced as he pulled away. He helped me into the bed, and I curled up on my side, staring groggily at the window.
I had almost drifted off to sleep when he appeared at my side, a tall glass in one hand.
“Up, Thea,” he ordered, voice implacable.
I frowned at him. “I’m still mad at you.”
“And you’re still a little drunk,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not drunk. Tipsy.”
“Fine, Tipsy. You’re not getting out of the talk we need to have by being laid up with a hangover tomorrow. Drink.” He pushed the glass at me. It was filled to the top with something red. I could smell it—a fruity smell. I decided to go ahead and drink, because I was dying of thirst.
“I’m not drunk,” I said again. I wasn’t either. Tipsy, yes, my control somewhat questionable, but I wasn’t drunk. “And you should be glad, because if I was drunk…what you just did…” I rolled my eyes as I sat up and reached for the glass. Gatorade or something to that effect, I decided. I guzzled all of it. “You’d have to be a little ashamed for taking such advantage.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, voice dry. He scooped me up into his arms.
“What are you doing?” I glared at him, but mostly so I wouldn’t sigh…or maybe cry. I wasn’t sure which one I wanted to do more.
“We’re taking a shower so if I decide to take advantage again, you’re ready for it.”
“I’m not just talking about…” My face went red. “Sex. But…um…”
“You talking about how I just fucked your ass?” He cocked a brow as he stood me on my feet just outside a lavish shower. “You want to be mad at me about that, you go ahead.”
“I’m not mad,” I said. “It’s not like I told you I didn’t want it.”
The thought never even occurred to me.
“Then why are we talking about it?” He stepped inside the shower and I heard the spray come on. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself, but had no more done that than he was pulling me into the enclosure. Silken, warm water rained down on me as he pulled me up against him. “I thought you didn’t want to talk anyway.”
“I don’t.” Tipping my head back, I stared at him. But only for a few seconds, because hurt still lingered, right under the surface.
He saw it, too, even though I ducked my head and tried to look away before he could see anything, he saw the hurt. “Okay, baby. We won’t talk.”
He washed me, from head to toe, with gentle, strong hands. Then, as I stood under the spray rinsing off, he washed himself. He didn’t immediately turn off the water. He picked me up and pressed me to the wall once more. This time, as he entered me, there was no burning, edgy hunger. It was slow, sweet…almost hesitant, even.
We watched each other the whole time and I convinced myself, after a few minutes, the drops of water on my face were from the shower. That was all.
I don’t know what woke me, my bladder or the ringing of the phone. It was probably the phone, although my bladder was a close second. Said bladder had woken me three other times in the night, but I was going to blame LeVan for that. He kept waking me up and making me drink Gatorade.
Guess he didn’t believe me when I told him I was tipsy.
Now, as the phone rang for what seemed like the tenth time, I lay flat on my back and stared at the ceiling.
Three glasses of Gatorade had made sure of one thing—I had absolutely zero headache.
Not that I would’ve had much of one, if any, to begin with. Tequila never did much to me and I’d switched out to water after four or five shots. I’d been pissed at LeVan, but pissed or not, I didn’t like making a fool of myself.
Because I had still been sobering up when I’d seen LeVan in the lobby and wondered if maybe I should follow him, it hadn’t taken much to decide yes.
If I’d been completely sober, I might’ve waited until I had a better grip on my anger before I went after him, but as it was, both anger and need had been in equal control.
Or maybe not equal.
After all, we hadn’t spent the night yelling at each other.
The phone rang again.
“What the hell, LeVan?” I mumbled, rolling onto my side to eye the device by the bed.
It wasn’t my phone that was ringing but the landline, resting on its cradle on the nightstand. I almost answered, then decided probably not a good idea. Instead, I got up to go to the bathroom. Halfway there, the ringing, thankfully, stopped.
It started back up again as I was washing my hands.
“What is it?” I demanded, out of breath from half running to get to the damn thing from the bathroom. I was tempted to grab it and rip the cord from the wall.
“Hello, Ms. Kent. Pardon the intrusion, but this is the concierge desk and your presence has been requested in the main lobby.”
“I…my…what do you mean, my presence?” Suspicious, I looked around.
“Just that, madam. When will you be down?”
I looked down at my naked body. “I’m not even remotely ready to be seen in public.”
“Not a problem. Just tell me when we can expect you,” the concierge said, his voice too chipper and happy for me to be able to stand it for long.
“Thirty minutes.” I hung up and looked around for my dress.
36
Thea
LeVan didn’t miss a trick.
My dress, according to the note he’d left, was being cleaned. He’d provided something else in the meantime and the clothes were so new, they still had the tags on, so I didn’t need to worry that they’d come from some sweetheart he might’ve had while waiting for me to get my shit together.
Panties, jeans, and a shirt. The bra I’d worn last night would work fine with the simple black blouse.
I used his shower and the toiletries I found in the bathroom, then dressed, pausing once as I caught his scent hovering in the air. But it was coming from me. It was a scent so yummy, I could’ve lapped the air.
Instead, I hurried through getting ready so I could get downstairs and see what was going on.
The problem with being told I was expected in the lobby was that I hadn’t really paid attention last night when I first came in…but the lobby of Casino Torrid was huge.
I hesitated in the arched doorways near the first elevator bank, trying to figure out where I should go. I caught sight of the concierge stand and decided I’d go over there.
I made it two steps before the lights flickered—then they dimmed.
Haunting music filled the air and I looked around.
A light fell on me.
“What the fuck,” I whispered.
“Can I escort you to your seat?” a voice said from the side. I swung my head around—then up. And I found myself looking at Mac Knight, one of LeVan’s partners.
He held out his arm.
“What…” I swallowed. “What is this?”
“You’ll have to ask your knight, Ms. Kent,” he replied. And he
still stood there, holding out his arm.
Slowly, nervously, I took it.
He guided me over to a small bank of chairs that had been set up along the doorway leading to the casino itself. Most of them had been taken. I didn’t know anyone sitting down. But the center seat remained empty, save for a long-stemmed, pristine red rose.
“Enjoy the show,” Mac said. He was lost in the crowd a moment later.
I took the rose and sat down, not knowing what else to do. People were staring at me. I wasn’t shy by any means and I’d been the center of attention more than once since my career had taken off, but usually, I had time to prepare.
The music welled again and I couldn’t help but notice that it sounded familiar.
Not even thirty seconds passed before I realized why.
“It’s the Sleeping Beauty illusion,” someone behind me murmured. “I’ve seen him do this on TV!”
It was indeed LeVan’s Sleeping Beauty illusion and I sat there, enraptured, as he performed it right in front of us.
He was dressed differently this time, I couldn’t help but notice, clad in a black suit with a pristine white shirt instead of the resplendent silver armor he wore almost every other time I’d seen him perform.
“Where’s the dragon? How is he going to…”
Applause and laughter broke out a moment later as a gangly dragon appeared from the crowd and lumbered toward LeVan. This was different. The dragon held a sword. It wasn’t a real dragon, of course, but someone costumed as one. He wasn’t tall enough to be Mac, but Sly…maybe? That didn’t seem right, but as he lunged toward LeVan with a sword as LeVan circled around his assistant, “protecting” her as she levitated, I couldn’t imagine who else it could be.
Then a knight appeared on the stage—a dark knight, clad in black armor. One knight…two. One was massive and rushed LeVan, while the other went to the dragon who’d been “injured.” LeVan and one of the dark knights fought and when LeVan pulled a sword from thin air to slay him, Mac’s helmet flew off. He collapsed in front of the crowd, a puff of smoke going up. Someone screamed and when the smoke cleared, the armor was there, but Mac wasn’t.
My heart was pounding. I could barely breathe.
The second knight had torn off his helmet at Mac’s collapse—it was Sly.
So the dragon.
The dragon ran for LeVan, brandishing its sword once more and the sword went straight through LeVan’s chest.
I screamed. I couldn’t help it.
It wasn’t real. None of this was real.
But the red stain that appeared…
I clapped a hand over my mouth and watched as LeVan swayed, one hand going to the blade in his chest. He grimaced, then pulled on it. One inch at a time, he pulled it out.
Sly was watching.
His best friend wouldn’t just watch if this was real, so it was part of the act.
But it seemed so real.
The music rose to a crescendo and LeVan tore the blade the rest of the way from his chest and grasped the handle—the blade was suddenly two and he was fighting both knight and dragon.
He took down the knight first, and Sly, like Mac, disappeared in a plume of smoke.
Then it was just the dragon.
There was a plume of smoke.
And the dragon—comically—did one of those quick costume changes. It was clearly meant to be comical, too, because the two black knights, Mac and Sly, had rushed out holding up a curtain that was not even close to opaque and only went up to the dragon’s neck, allowing people to see as the assistant wearing it fought the head off, then the costume itself.
And just like that, the knight in shining armor was revealed…a knight in dragon’s clothing.
As Mac and Sly hurried off the scene, the knight threw out his arms in a lavish ta-da, then he turned to face LeVan.
LeVan, just wearing his clothing of black, now faced the knight.
LeVan had always been the knight in this illusion.
I didn’t understand what was with the change.
The sword battle began anew, the two of them disappearing behind swathes of fabric that rose and fell seemingly out of nowhere. Lights abruptly went out as they both circled around the Sleeping Beauty.
When they came back on, only the knight stood there.
And he turned to look at me.
I knew.
He slowly lifted the helmet from his face…and it was LeVan.
The lights had been off for seconds, but he’d gone from the black suit to the suit of shining armor.
We stared at each other for a long moment, then he turned and finished the illusion.
As he “woke” Sleeping Beauty, something caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
The dragon.
Again.
The costume of shining green scales was hard to miss, especially now as he went to all fours and crawled across the floor, stopping right in front of me. Others noticed, too, but most of them were watching LeVan.
It was almost utterly silent as the illusion came to a close.
That was what made it so easy to hear the whisper…coming from the dragon.
As the dragon spoke to me in my brother’s voice, I had to fight not to pick my jaw up from the ground. “How did I do, Thea?”
He turned his dragon head up to me, then tugged the head itself off and Nicky grinned up at me. “How did I do? Did you like your illusion?”
Another hush fell over the crowd and I couldn’t answer, because LeVan was now alone in the spotlight. Light glinted off his costume of shining armor, and that’s all it was. It was just a costume.
LeVan was a hell of a guy, but he wasn’t a knight in shining armor. If he was, then the armor was a little tarnished. He wasn’t perfect. But then again, neither was I.
As he held out a hand, I caught my breath, understanding the message behind the illusion now.
We had dragons to slay, both of us. And a lot of them had to do with the history we had yet to deal with. But that didn’t mean those dragons couldn’t be dealt with.
Rising from my chair, I crossed the floor and took his hand.
And as he lowered his head to kiss me, thunderous applause broke out around us.
“Hello, pretty lady,” LeVan murmured against my mouth.
“Hello, LeVan.”
Then I simply curled my arms around him and held on tight.
And I planned never to let go.
The END
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Risk Me (Vegas Knights Book 2) Page 21
