Declan
I thrust into Bailey one more time—the last push I need before I’m coming with a long, drawn-out groan of relief. Bailey had two such orgasms already this morning.
Letting out a sigh, I touch my forehead to hers a moment before rolling off, coming to rest on my back beside her. Our shoulders touch, faces pointed to the ceiling, and we fight to regain our breath.
“Not going to lie,” Bailey pants with a faint underlying chuckle. “Morning sex is awesome.”
Laughing, I roll my head to look at her. She stares at the ceiling with a smile, her fingers laced and resting on her belly. I slide my gaze down to her naked breasts, nipples still hard and contracted. Christ, I want to fuck her again. I mean, my body isn’t quite ready, but everything else in my being is ready.
“I could get used to a lot of morning sex,” I say in agreement, turning back on the pillow to stare upward as well. “And just think… come Monday, we’ll probably have the results of our tests back, then we can do away with condoms. Then nothing will hamper our spontaneity.”
“That’s going to be awesome,” Bailey murmurs.
Sure as fuck is. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve shared that level of intimacy with a woman, and I’m near crazy with the anticipation of it.
Yeah…I could get used to a lot of different things with Bailey now firmly in the picture of my life.
These scratchy sheets I’m on. Not the expensive high thread-count cotton I’m used to sleeping on that feels like clouds. But the sheets smell like Bailey, and that makes them pretty fucking nice.
Her bed is small, a fraction of the size of the huge king in my suite. I usually sleep sprawled practically corner to corner, but I found spooning with her last night to be comfortable. For sure, her mattress is hard as a rock, but…
Well, no. There’s nothing I can think of that makes sleeping on this concrete slab worth it for the long haul. I make a note to buy Bailey a new mattress for the nights I stay over.
And yes… I’ve already started thinking about us spending every night together. I mean, why the fuck not? The sex is beyond amazing, and Bailey is awesome to be around. Where is the downside?
Because you’ve been here before, asshole. At some point, it will probably not be so great, I remind myself.
I shake that thought off. I could suggest she stay at the Blackwood with me, but that wouldn’t be best for her. I know she needs to be closer to her parents because of their health issues. The one clear thing I came away with after our dinner last night is her family is vastly different from mine and far more important to her. We spent a lot of time talking about her parents and how hard they worked to provide for her. They didn’t have a lot. They lived without extravagances, and yet Bailey never felt deprived. Knowing that about her family, I can’t even imagine how shocking it was for her to see my family dynamics.
She told me last night—with a great deal of pride—that unbeknownst to her growing up, her parents saved mightily to provide her with a college fund. She was able to go to the University of Nevada and graduate without owing a dime.
Of course, she’d said her degree in business administration wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on because she still hadn’t figured out what to do with it.
“Maybe I’ll get my MBA one day,” she had mused over the cheesecake she’d pulled from the fridge.
I had not a doubt she would probably do just that. She didn’t seem like the type of woman that would ever let an opportunity pass her by.
“So today is Saturday,” she murmurs, sounding mellow.
“Yeah.”
“What do you normally do on a Saturday?” she asks, rolling slightly toward me.
I take her in, hair all mussed up, lips puffy from the vigorous workout she just gave them upon mine, and her hand tucked under her cheek. I could totally get used to waking up to this.
But she asked a question, so I answer it. “I often work on Saturday. Sunday too. But I’ll golf sometimes. Other times, I’ll hang at The Wicked Horse. What about you?”
“Definitely not all that exciting,” she quips. “Clean the house, do my laundry. Sometimes, I’ll go for a hike or maybe shopping. I like to read.”
“What are you going to do today?” I ask, realizing the last thing I want to do is go into the office.
“Just the usual,” she replies with a shrug.
“Want to just stay in bed with me all day?”
She grins, shooting me a disbelieving look. “I thought the powerful Declan Blackwood works on Saturdays?”
“Yeah… that probably has more to do with the fact I have nothing better to do than work,” I say with a wink. “But you are definitely something a whole lot better than work.”
“You really want to stay in bed all day?” she asks, her face a mask of skepticism.
“Well, not all day,” I admit. “I mean… your mattress is hell on my back. I’m buying you a new one by the way.”
“You’re not—”
I cut her off with a hand to the back of her head, and a swift, hard kiss of determination. When I let her up, I continue. “But let’s get out for a bit. Maybe you can show me around your hometown. I haven’t seen much.”
“You’ve lived here over a year.” Laughing, she pokes me in the chest. “How can you not have seen much? This is Vegas.”
“I’m a busy man,” I tease. “I don’t have time for frivolity.”
“Oh, you’re totally getting frivolity today,” she warns playfully, then her mouth is on mine again. Her hand inches down my abdomen to a place below that very much wants our frivolity to start right in this bed.
I have no clue what she has planned, but we will be making a stop at a mattress store for sure because I plan to spend a lot of time here.
♦
I have to admit…
It turned into a damn good day, and I seriously cannot remember the last time I did anything utterly frivolous. Sure, I’ll golf now and then, but it’s an activity that’s usually sandwiched between work. And yes, I’ve spent quite a bit of time at The Wicked Horse fucking away the time, but again… more as a respite from my responsibilities to the Blackwood empire.
Today, I haven’t checked my email.
No clue if anyone’s left me a voice mail.
Didn’t step foot in my office.
Instead, after I fucked Bailey for a second time this morning, we headed out for an adventure. She showered at her place, then we went to the Blackwood so I could shower and change clothes. After which I gave her what she really wanted.
Me in jeans.
I could tell by the overly long time she stared that she liked them, and I made a mental note to immediately switch into denim when I wasn’t working.
Next, we took off on a car drive. A clear, bright, and beautiful November day, Bailey directed me out to Valley of Fire State Park. We rode in my Porsche because I’m the guy… I drive, which is sexist… I get it. We didn’t plan on a hike today, but it was beautiful just driving and looking at the graceful sandstone formations in red, white, and sometimes even lavender. It gave us time to talk more, and there was nothing odd when my hand would find its way to Bailey’s thigh, or she’d drape her arm across my shoulders so her fingers could play in my hair as we cruised along.
We ended up back in Vegas. She took me downtown, where I had yet to step foot in all my time here. We visited the Mob Museum and the Neon Museum. We walked along Fremont Street, and she talked me into riding the SlotZilla zip line along the mall.
All things I never in a million years would have dreamed to do. Even if I had, I would have never taken the time for something so… silly.
And yet, in shuffling through my memories, I can’t remember having such a great time before.
Even now, as we walk back along Fremont Street—having grabbed some hot dogs from a food truck for dinner—I don’t want the day to end.
Bailey laughs, and I look over to see what’s so funny as I arrange the wrapper on my hot dog so I can manage a bite.
She smirks, also working at exposing her meal so she can eat it.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“It’s just… have you ever eaten a hot dog for dinner?” she asks.
I give her a faux glare, her question bordering on impertinent and an indirect slam at my upbringing. Secretly, though, I find it hilarious. “Of course I’ve had hot dogs,” I say imperiously. “But only if we had Grey Poupon in the fridge.”
Bailey snort laughs. “Good one.”
“I actually like hot dogs,” I say in a more serious tone. “But roasted over an open fire. That’s the best.”
She gives me a surprised glance. “When have you ever cooked hot dogs over an open fire?”
“Believe it or not, Miss Robbins,” I reply drolly. “I’m quite the outdoorsman. I enjoy camping and fishing, and I know how to cook food over a flame.”
“Wow,” she murmurs, pulling her dog toward her mouth. “Color me impressed.”
We eat in silence as we make our way toward where we’d left the car. When I’m done and balling up the paper wrapper to toss in the next street can we come upon, I say, “You know that’s not enough to suffice for an actual dinner, right?”
“I figured as much,” she replies, having finished her hot dog. She nabs my wrapper from my hand, crumples it with her trash, and tosses it in a garbage can we stroll by. After, she takes my hand and laces her fingers through mine, and yeah… that’s something I could get used to as well.
Touch.
I never thought much of it before, yet now I’m analyzing exactly how her skin feels against mine and wondering why it makes me feel good.
“Where to next?” she asks.
“A mattress store,” I reply. “Then a good dinner somewhere.”
Her laugh drowns out the Old Town sounds around me. Blots out the bright lights, the street smells, and throngs of people. Places me in a vacuum that doesn’t feel isolated at all. On the contrary, it’s just her and me and a feeling of completeness.
My head spins with the realization that this thing I have going with Bailey is way more than just some step we’ve taken to spend more time with each other. She’s provoking more than just need and desire. She’s tapping into my emotions on a level I’d long thought was dead.
I’m not ashamed to admit—only to myself, of course—that it freaks me the fuck out.
It also excites me and makes me have a sense of… is that hope? For a different future? A better life?
I have no clue what the fuck any of this means. For now, though, I tighten my hand on hers and decide to go with it.