Almost Paradise (Sinners in Paradise #2/Sinners on Tour #7.2) Page 6

  “When we tour in Europe next summer, we’ll visit a real castle,” he said.

  “Promise?”

  At his nod, she asked, “And can I wear a real ball gown?”

  “Of course.”

  The line for valet parking moved exceedingly slow.

  After inching forward another car length, Eric said, “I actually thought we’d stay off strip. At the Hard Rock.”

  “Too obvious.”

  The valet seemed excited to park their ride; unfortunately, the temperamental vehicle died on him and refused to budge until Eric was again behind the wheel.

  “You go check in,” he said to Rebekah. “I’ll park it and hunt you down.”

  “People have been known to get lost in these places for days!” Rebekah protested.

  “I’ll find you,” he promised.

  She checked in and had their luggage sent up to their suite, then waited for Eric near the elevator. She didn’t want to enter their first hotel room as a married couple alone—it seemed like bad luck. She sent him a text to inform him of her general whereabouts and people-watched while she waited. When the first set of tourists stopped to have their picture taken with her, she thought it was odd, but after the third, she was starting to get into her suspected role. Apparently, they all thought she was a character actress and part of some Vegas show. She played along, wishing Eric was there to make their photos even more memorable.

  “There you are,” he said as he jogged up to her. “I was searching around the other elevators for you. I was starting to think a dragon had snatched you and put you in a tower.”

  “These places are so confusing,” she said.

  “They build them this way on purpose so you’ll get lost in a maze of money-sucking slot machines.”

  “Oh, honey, look,” said a woman wearing a Cleveland Browns T-shirt. “It’s Bonnie and Clyde. Can we get a picture with you?”

  Eric glanced at Rebekah out of the corner of his eye. “Um…”

  “Sure!” Rebekah said, used to the request.

  She wrapped her arms around Eric’s long, lean body and lifted her thigh across his, making her we’re-a-sexy-couple face as the woman and her two female companions crammed in around them for a picture.

  When she whispered, “Play along,” Eric’s arm went around her waist to tug her closer to his hip.

  “Wow, they make a great Bonnie and Clyde,” the woman said to her friends as they walked away. “So passionate.

  “Did Bonnie and Clyde have tattoos?” her friend asked.

  “They would have in this day and age.”

  “What was that?” Eric asked when the tourists were out of earshot.

  “People think we’re an attraction,” Rebekah said. “I was approached at least a half-dozen times while I waited for you.”

  He laughed. “I love Las Vegas. You know, if the rock star gig doesn’t work out, we could totally make a living here in Vegas just dressing up for fun.”

  Rebekah doubted that would be much of a living. “But the rock star gig has already worked out,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the elevator. Once inside, she kissed him deeply. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.”

  “I can’t wait to get you alone in our suite,” she said against his lips, her hands clenched into the fabric of his crisp white shirt.

  “That sounds promising,” he said, deepening their kiss.

  When they reached their floor and exited the elevator, she trailed after Eric, fidgeting excitedly. She figured their suite would make her feel like a princess in a castle guarded by a fire-breathing dragon. Her own handsome prince would rescue her so they could live happily ever. When her handsome prince opened the door, her fantasy bubble burst. She couldn’t deny that it was a nice room, but there weren’t tapestries on stone block walls. Instead of a copper tub, there was a jetted monstrosity. They even had a television. Ah, well. The best fantasies were the ones in her head anyway.

  She crossed to the far side of the room and peered outside. Expecting to see the red and blue spires of the hotel, her eyes were confronted with an uninspiring parking garage roof.

  “Check out this view!” she said, hoping to share a laugh with Eric.

  “It’s great,” he said without looking. He pulled a long leather coat out of their suitcase of costumes. “Let’s go have some fun.”

  “Wait,” she said. “Don’t you want to try out the bed?” She leaned over the mattress and slid her hands over the surface, licking her lips suggestively. It was the best part of the room, in that it had a broad horizontal surface.

  “I have an idea,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

  “And it doesn’t involve a bed?” She was frankly stunned. She knew he loved to play in Las Vegas; it was as if the city had been designed specifically for him. But they were on their honeymoon—shouldn’t there be more mooning of his honey going on? He looked fantastic in those tailored pants of his, but they needed to go.

  “It will,” he promised. “I won’t keep you out too late, and then I’ll fuck you until the sun rises.”

  She stood and turned toward the window to pretend her pride wasn’t stinging. Eric Sticks—the guy who was always ready for a roll in the sack, the man hornier than a ten-headed triceratops, the dude with a perpetual hard-on—wasn’t interested in nonstop sex on their honeymoon? Should she be worried? Offended? Angry? She wasn’t sure what she should be feeling, but the ache spreading through her chest was definitely hurt.

  “You really don’t want to take in this great view of a parking garage?” she asked, her tone flat, her throat tight.

  “You’re upset,” Eric said, dropping the leather coat on the floor and moving to stand behind her. He held her shoulders lightly between his palms, and she shivered slightly beneath his touch.

  She lowered her gaze when he caught it in the window reflection. “I’m not.” So why were her lips quivering?

  “First night of our honeymoon and I’ve already let you down.”

  She shook her head. “My expectations and reality—”

  “Should be perfectly aligned,” he interrupted. “We’ll just stay here in the room.”

  She lifted her head to meet his gaze in the window. “I want you to have fun. That’s why I brought you here. And if fun doesn’t involve naked time, well then...” She shrugged.

  A thrill raced down her spine when his fingers moved to the zipper at her back and slowly tugged it down.

  “We probably should change first,” he said. “Unless you want a bunch of tourists harassing us for pictures.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “We should get out of these clothes.”

  Her dress dropped to her feet, and she stepped out of it, kicking it aside.

  “There’s a man watching you,” Eric said. “He sees how sexy you are in your bra and panties.”

  Excitement tingled over her nerve endings as she scanned the parking garage for signs of a spectator.

  “Where?” she asked, breathless.

  He unhooked her bra and slipped the straps from her shoulders, tossing the garment aside before cupping her suddenly achy breasts in both hands.

  “He sees how perfect your tits are,” he said in her ear. “How hard your nipples are. He imagines his mouth on them as he unzips his pants and takes his stiff cock in his hand.”

  She still didn’t see anyone watching them, but the fantasy was enough to ignite her lust. She reached behind her and unzipped Eric’s pants, taking his stiff cock in her hand. So he did still want her. Thank God.

  Eric’s hands skimmed down her sides, and he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties. Slowly he slid them down her hips, exposing her clean-shaven mound to their spectator—real or imagined.

  “Seeing your pussy makes his balls ache,” Eric said, his voice low and hypnotic. “What he wouldn’t give to slide his fingers between your legs. To hear you moan as he gives you pleasure.”

  Her panties dropped to her ankles, and
she kicked them aside impatiently.

  “He would give anything to see the hidden treasure between your legs.” Eric’s large, strong hand grasped her thigh and lifted her bent leg. She leaned against him for stability. “Show him your pretty pussy, baby.”

  She slid a hand between her legs and spread her lips. If there was a man watching, he’d be able to see everything she had to offer, and just the thought of being observed had her gasping with excitement.

  “He’s stroking his cock with his hand, imagining it buried inside you. Watching you finger yourself is driving him insane.”

  Rebekah slipped a finger inside her slick, silky flesh, a strangled moan escaping her throat. Her head fell back against Eric’s shoulder as he continued to hold her leg with one hand and massage her throbbing breast with the other, plucking at her hard nipple until she thought she’d go mad with need.

  “He’s so turned on, he’s ready to blow his load, but he wants to hold back until you come first so he can watch the look on your face when you climax. Come for him, baby. Show him how beautiful you look when you let go.”

  “Yes,” she groaned, sliding her fingers over her clit with light and rapid strokes, wanting to bring herself to her peak quickly.

  “He wishes he could taste the cum dripping down your thighs, lick that pretty asshole of yours, drive his cock into that perfect, sweet cunt.”

  “Eric!” she cried as ripples of pleasure pulsed through her body.

  “How did you know that was his name?” Eric murmured in her ear. “He’s going to fuck you now and not in his imagination.”

  Her hands shot out to steady herself against the window as Eric shifted his body unexpectedly. He released her breast to grab his cock and direct it into her still clenching pussy. She opened her eyes and glanced down to where their bodies were joined, gasping as he drove his cock up into her from behind.

  “He won’t last much longer,” Eric said brokenly. “Seeing that pussy stuffed with cock is fucking disastrous to his concentration.”

  “Oh God, Eric,” she said, her gaze shifting to the reflection of his face in the window. He was watching his cock fill her, the hand holding her thigh rubbing back and forth as if he were imagining masturbating with that hand. He’d created an amazing fantasy for her, but he was obviously caught up in his own imagined scenario.

  “He’s gonna come now. He just wishes he could drench that beautiful pussy in his fluids.”

  “He can,” she said and when she felt his body tense behind her, she pulled his cock free of her body and did her best to aim his spurts of cum over her swollen folds. “Is he still watching?”

  “He’s trying,” Eric gasped. “His eyes don’t want to stay open.”

  “His cum looks good on me,” she assured him.

  “Fuck, I love you,” he said, releasing his hold on her leg and covering her mound with his hand, massaging his fluids into her skin and using his fingers to press some inside her.

  “I love you too,” she said, emotion clogging her throat. “Thank you for understanding my needs.”

  He chuckled and tightened his arms around her, drawing her back securely against his chest. “It’s not much of a challenge when they usually match my own.”

  She struggled to turn in his arms and when her naked breasts were pressed firmly into the chest beneath his stiff, white dress shirt, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  “Feel better?” he murmured against her lips.

  She nodded. “I think I’ll grab a quick shower before we head out on the town.”

  “Out? I thought you wanted to stay in. I could use a nap now.”

  “Nap? Who takes naps in Vegas? The sun will be setting soon, and I want you to show me all the fun you had in mind before you indulged me with the fun I had in mind.”

  “That guy out on the roof of the parking garage definitely had some fun of his own,” Eric said, waving at the window.

  Rebekah turned to glance out the window behind her just as a car backed out of the space directly across from their room.

  “Did he really watch us?” Rebekah asked, and why did that thought make what she’d just experienced with Eric that much hotter?

  “You didn’t see him jacking off in his car?”

  She shook her head.

  “You gave him quite a thrill, sweetheart.”

  “All I care about is giving you a thrill.”

  “Don’t you know you never disappoint?”

  Feeling much more confident in her sexuality, she trotted off toward the bathroom for a quick shower. When she returned, Eric was dressed, but lying face down on the bed and snoring softly. She let him catch a few zzzs while she searched her wardrobe for something flirty to wear that would catch her husband’s attention and maybe turn a few heads, but not make tourists ask for photo opportunities.

  Dressed in a knee-length, shimmery black cocktail dress and strappy sandals—she knew they’d be doing a lot of walking so heels were out—she stood in front of the mirror and peeled the wrapping off her tattoo. It was healing already. She decided she could do without the wrap for a few hours. It detracted from her outfit and she so wanted to show off her ink. Even though it wasn’t complete, it looked fucking awesome and more than a little sexy.

  She woke Eric with a bite on the butt. “Are you going to waste our entire stay sleeping?”

  “I’m up!” He shot out of bed and reached for his Vans, but paused as he noticed what Rebekah was wearing. “Now I’m really up,” he said, taking a moment to adjust his fly. “You look amazing.”

  She grinned and stroked the hair at her nape self-consciously. He made her feel like a modern-day princess and she loved him for it. “Thanks.”

  “Girls with tattoos…” He muttered under his breath. “Bonerific.”

  “I figured it could use a little air,” she said, but really she just wanted to show off her new ink. She’d endured too much pain—and that undeniable aching, sexual hunger—to keep the work of art covered for long.

  Once Eric had his shoes on—as well as the long leather coat he’d decided to bring for reasons not yet clear to her—they headed out of their suite hand in hand. There was something about the excitement of Vegas that made Rebekah’s heart race. Or maybe it raced because she was there with Eric and his nearness always did that to her.

  “I need to make a quick stop,” he told her as they meandered through the casino floor. “I always play one hand of blackjack when I’m in Vegas.”

  “Just one?”

  “Yep. That way if someone asks if I won big, I can answer honestly. I get strange looks if I say I was in Vegas and didn’t gamble at all.”

  He sat down at a nearly empty blackjack table and bought a hundred dollars’ worth of chips.

  “I figured you for a high roller,” Rebekah teased.

  “I usually play with ten,” he said as he examined his down card.

  She didn’t see what the card was because her eyes were too busy bugging out of her head. “Thousand?”

  He laughed. “Ten dollars. I was trying to impress you by gambling ten times my usual bet.”

  She fanned her throat with one hand, fluttered her lashes, and adopted a Southern accent. “Oh, my. You big spenders make me swoon.”

  The dealer’s up card was an ace and Eric’s was a seven, so Rebekah was surprised when he bet his entire one-hundred-dollar fortune and took a third card. He was dealt a five. Rebekah wasn’t a blackjack master, but it wasn’t looking good for him. If he had a face card, he’d busted. Eric held and the dealer flipped over her down card. She had an eight, which meant she held at nineteen. The guy next to Eric grumbled and revealed his seventeen. Rebekah watched Eric, waiting for him to reveal his yet unseen card. He flipped over a nine.

  “Blackjack!” Rebekah cried excitedly. Eric had won.

  “Actually,” the dealer said, “blackjack is an ace and any face card.”

  “Fine,” Rebekah said, leaning into Eric’s arm and wrapping an arm around his s
houlders. “Twenty-one, then. He still won.”

  “I’d like to cash out,” Eric said, which surprised Rebekah even after what he’d told her. He was obviously rolling in luck. “Shouldn’t you keep playing when you’re lucky?”

  “There’s no such thing as luck,” he said.

  “You lucked into marrying me,” she said, and offered him a flirty wink.

  “That wasn’t luck. It was my irresistible sex appeal,” he claimed. He patted her on the butt before collecting his winnings.

  He was right about that. She did find his sex appeal irresistible. But they had much more in common than the horizontal mambo.

  They gawked at faux castle architecture and enjoyed dinner while watching a staged jousting match.

  About halfway through their meal, Rebekah leaned close to Eric and whispered, “Imagining you in shining armor has me feeling all sorts of damsel in distress.”

  “Do you want me to take you back to the room and show you my lance?”

  She laughed and slid a hand between his thighs. “Aye, my lord. But later. I’m having fun.”

  He smiled at her and kissed her lips. “Me too.”

  After dinner they left their hotel and wandered the Vegas Strip hand in hand.

  “Why are you carrying that coat around?” Rebekah asked. “It’s not even chilly.”

  “It’s for the Eiffel Tower,” he said, nodding at the brightly lit structure across the wide avenue from where they stood. “When we get there. No rush.”

  “That explains nothing,” she said, but he wouldn’t reveal his plans to her no matter how much she pouted.

  Distant cannon fire sent Eric racing up the sidewalk, dragging Rebekah behind him as he dogged other pedestrians like a slalom skier.

  “Wait, I want to see the fountain,” Rebekah said as they dashed past the beautiful dancing sprays of water at the Bellagio.

  “Later,” Eric promised as he continued to pull her forward. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss my favorite attraction.”

  Still breathing hard from their sprint, they caught the last half of the pirate show at Treasure Island.

  “All these pirates make me want to search beneath your clothes for buried treasure,” Eric whispered into her ear.