Page 90 of Keep Vegas

tony

Islide into my soaking-wet girl after a week apart and we both groan. This new policy of no condom is a fucking dream.

“Such the perfect pussy. So tight and snug, holding my cock so deep. Fuck it’s hot. Fuck.” I pump into her, and she meets me on every thrust.

She arches her back and comes in a beautiful torrent of screams and gasps, and I follow her down the tunneling path of pleasure.

She rolls over, lying on her back, and reaches for a cold taco.

“Now that was a Baja Blast.” She crunches.

We will leave separately. But for the moment, we’re side by side on the casino floor to catch our cars. She’s stunning, and I glance around, and my heart stops.

“Mak, can you get me some gum?” I have to get her away from me.

“Gum?”

“Yes.” I have to confirm something.

“No.” I roll my eyes. Of course, she’s not going without an explanation. “You’re weird.”

“There’s someone I know, and we can’t be seen together. I’ll call you later. I love you. Now, go get some damn gum.”

She’s flustered. I peck her lips and circle back on the other side of the casino. Mak is still standing there bewildered, staring at me. I shoo her away, and she flips me off and heads to her car. I’m rattled, but I inch closer to be certain. I stand behind a nickel slot machine and peer around down the row next to me to witness a true desert mirage. It has to be fake.

“Holy shit.” I shake my head and run away quickly.

I’m sitting in her lobby, hiding and frankly, still in a bit of shock. She doesn’t know I was in Vegas. But I think in light of her straddling someone else, making out at a nickel slot machine, I can probably trust her with my secret.

She enters, and if I can separate the woman from the marriage, she’s stunning and sunny in the afternoon light. She strides across the lobby floor, clicking her heels in a confident cadence. And then her blonde bob flips to me, and her face hardens as I scoot into the elevator while the doors close. I hate that we do that to each other.

I put my hands up. “Lore, we need to talk.”

“Alan will be in touch.”

“No lawyers. No one knows I’m here. I could have waited in your place. I have a key since I own it.”

“And that would be—”

“Sorry. I’m not here to stir up shit, trust me. You once did. One glass of water, that’s all I’ll stay for.”

“You hate water.”

I grin. “I do, and it’s a problem. But I’ll drink it for you right now if you trust me. I need ten minutes and we can release both of us from this purgatory.”

She nods sharply. The doors open, and she swipes her key, and we enter her apartment. Which is, of course, beautifully remodeled on my dime.

She points at the couch. “Sit.”

She places her baby-puke-green Birkin bag in a manicured ceramic bowl by the door. It fits perfectly; of course, it does. She’s been well trained. Everything is supposed to be exactly where it is and stay exactly the way it’s supposed to. Her parents, this fucking world, and old money is all a three-headed beast that rules her existence. I don’t know if I’m setting her free or complicating her life, but I want out of this fucking narrative.

She walks calmly to the kitchen, and I follow her. She’s filling a pitcher with ice water and slices lemons into perfect thin circles.

“Lore, I saw you.” She doesn’t stop cutting. Then she plunks the lemons into the water and turns to me. “In Vegas.”

Her face goes pale as she clutches the sink, and I quickly take the pitcher from her.

“I saw you and Teddy. Why didn’t you tell me, Laura?”