Page 7 of Vegas Love (Love 1)
"I've lost track of how many orgasms I've had," she pants, collapsing again.
"I think we're up to eleven."
She kisses me sweetly. "I love that you're keeping track."
While she's still clinging to me, I say, "So, what's next? We have a wig and everything."
"I should try it on!" she squeals.
I set her down and grab the bag, not wanting her to see what else I bought just yet. I'm enjoying watching her strut around naked too much.
When I pull the wig out, she laughs. "Ohmigawd, that's really blond! Like, bleach blond."
"I thought this would be fun."
She twists her gorgeous light brown hair up into a bun then puts on the wig, checking herself in the mirror. "I guess it's not as bad as I first thought."
When she turns back toward me, I take in the sight of her. Creamy, lightly tanned skin. Pale pink nipples and perfect, perky breasts. Thin waist, slender hips, long legs, and probably the hottest ass I've ever spanked.
Actually, it's the only ass I've ever spanked.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," I tell her, closing the gap between us and grabbing her ass with both hands. "Want to see what else I got you to wear?"
"I'm not sure I ever want to get dressed again."
"Sure you do. You want to go dancing--so I'm taking you dancing. But we're doing it right. No VIP. Just you and me, sweaty on a crowded dance floor."
She kisses me with a sigh. "It's too bad you live so far away."
I grab her chin and look into her eyes. They are by far the prettiest green eyes I've ever seen. Sure, I've seen them in the movies, but they don't do them justice. I've never noticed the dark blue around the edges or how they have an almost turquoise tint.
"You can't wear what you wore to the wedding."
"Why not?"
"We're going to a club, so you need the right outfit." I pull out the skimpy black skirt I bought. "You're wearing this."
"This will barely cover my vagina!" she exclaims, holding it up in front of her.
"That's kinda the point," I tease, tossing her the top.
"I can't wear this."
"You can and you will," I say, smacking her butt. "Get dressed."
She skips into the bathroom while I look around the room for my clothes and put them back on. I don't bother with my suit jacket, just pick it off the floor and hang it over the back of a chair.
I'm rolling up my shirtsleeves when she bounds out wearing the long blond wig, bright pink lipstick, the strappy black top, and the skirt--which does barely cover her vagina.
"You look fucking hot!" I tell her. "Let's go."
We make out in the taxi on the way to the club.
We're waiting in a very long line, when one of the doormen walks by and winks at her and the two other skimpily-clad girls she's been talking to.
The girls grab her hand and say, "Come on! We're getting in!"
She grabs my hand and drags me behind them.
Once we're inside, we squeeze up to the bar and orders shots.
"To new friends," she says, clinking the girls' glasses. "And to this very sexy boy."
We down the shots then move to the dance floor. The DJ has the place rocking and the dance floor is so packed there's barely room to move. I grab her ass and grind against her, the shot making me feel tipsy and, surprisingly, freaking horny.
Or maybe it's that skirt.
"This is amazing!" she yells in my ear. "The energy. All these people. You can feel the beat in your chest and--"
I kiss her, stopping her mid sentence. Someone is grinding against my back, bodies are pushing against my sides, but it's the one flattened against the front of me that I can feel.
Every little movement she's making.
She pulls my hands up in the air with hers. Her crotch is moving against my leg. Her breath is on my neck.
I know this is supposed to be just a crazy one-night stand, but there's a big part of me that wishes it could be more.
Maybe it's the circumstances. The supposed random hookup at a friend's wedding. Or maybe it's the way her ass seems to perfectly fit in my hands.
Or her crazy laugh.
Or the little freckles scattered imperfectly across her perfect nose.
Or the way she moaned when I fucked her.
I slide one of my hands up under her skirt, roaming for the lace of her thong.
She pushes my hand away. "You can't do that here."
"Says who?" I ask, moving under the front this time. I'm a bit shocked when my hand comes in contact with only her skin. "You're not wearing underwear."
"How could I in this skirt?"
I shove my hand between her legs, my finger moving inside her to the beat of the music. Lights flash and glow around us as she tosses her head back in pleasure.
Then she grabs my face and kisses me. She pulls her skirt down then drags me off the dance floor and into a dark corner of the club, where she undoes my pants, pulls my dick out, and sits on my lap, taking me inside her.
"Don't move," she says into my mouth as she grinds against me, causing me to grow even harder. "That's it. Damn, you feel good. I just needed you inside me again."
Even though I'm pretty sure the well is dry, I can't take it. I thrust my hips up hard, causing her to bounce on top of me.
"Excuse me," a voice says as a flashlight shines on us. "I'm going to have to ask you two to leave."
She jumps up, startled, and I use her body as a shield while I quickly zip my pants.
"Why?" she asks.
"You know why," he says, escorting us out.
We're let out of a side door just off the Strip.
"That was awesome! We got kicked out of the club! I need some more shots!" She leads me toward the bright lights.
"Hang on," I say, stopping to unzip my pants and pull up my underwear. They were still pushed way down and making it difficult to walk.
She reaches in and grabs my cock. "I like him."
When a group of people walks by us with foot-long margaritas, she lets go of me and runs after them. "Ohmigawd! Where did you get those?"
"Just up the street," one girl says.
"You look familiar," another says. "Do I know you?"
"I don't think so," she replies, clearly hoping they don't recognize her. She points at me. "But if you all want another margarita, he's buying."
She grabs my hand and skips toward the margarita bar. The group follows her like she's the Pied Piper.
We all get margaritas. Then we walk down the Strip, hand in hand, while she points out all the fun things she sees.
She grabs my phone and has our new friends take pictures with us at the fountains, with a guy who looks like one of the characters from The Hangover movie, kissing with the lights of the Strip behind us, and with a Power Ranger. We've been snapping random photos all night, since I told her I wasn't the kind of guy who would share them.
We ride a gondola at the Venetian and then go to the top of the Eiffel Tower, where we kiss and take even more pictures.
Later, as we're wandering aimlessly, a guy hands me an ad for a strip club.
"Do you want to go?" she asks.
I push her against the wall of a casino and kiss her. "Why would I need to go there? I'd rather have you strip for me."
"Oh god," she says, "that's so the right answer."
But then she's distracted by a store. "Oh, look! Let's get candy!"
The group of people we met are headed to the club we got kicked out of, but she adds their numbers to my phone so we can meet up later.
She throws what's left of our melted drinks away so we can go into the store.
After she buys a bag full of suckers, I suggest we get something to eat. All I've had since I left home were warm nuts and a crappy first-class meal. I order us each cheeseburger sliders and she orders a girly drink for us to share.
"Oh, look how cute it is!" she says, excitedly, when they bring out the blue fishbowl drink that has gummy worms in it and is smoking from dry ice.
"So, Sexy," she says after we've finished the sliders. "Do you wanna do something really crazy?"
I smile at her. God, I love her sense of adventure. "Hell yeah."
"Let's get married!"
"Married?" I take a long drink from the fishbowl. "Married. Well, what the hell. Why not! We're in Vegas!"
"Let's go shopping," she says. "You look good, but I'll need something white."
"Because you're still a virgin?" I tease.
"Yes, exactly," she says with a laugh.
"We also need to get a ring," I tell her.
"Eek!" She leans over the table and kisses me. Then she announces to the restaurant, "We're getting married!"
Everyone around us claps while she takes a napkin and scrawls something illegible on it.
"What's that supposed to say?" I ask.
"It's our prenup. It says when we get our quickie divorce next week, we won't sue each other for money."
I scrawl out a signature and slide it in front of her. "You need to sign it too."
She does, then tucks it into her bra.
I throw some cash on the table, and we stumble out to the street.
I grab her hand tightly and lead her to a hotel where I've seen a jewelry store. If I remember right, there's a dress shop next door.
When we get there, she gives me a kiss. "You pick out rings. I'm going to buy a dress. I want you to be surprised when I walk down the aisle."
I'm grinning from ear to ear when I sit down and tell the jewelry salesman I'm getting married.
