Lust (Vegas Nights 2)

I caught up with her after almost losing her as she zig-zagged through the tables. If it weren’t for the fact her daughter was at my house, probably sleeping by now, I’d have guessed that she was trying to escape me.

Hell, she probably still was. I wouldn’t put it past her.

“Slow down,” I murmured, catching her and pulling her back against me.

She squealed when our bodies made contact. I slid an arm around her stomach, holding her in place against me. Her chest heaved, each breath forcing her stomach to move in and out at the same rate as she was breathing.

“Let me go,” she muttered, wriggling against me.

I did as she asked—almost. Instead of releasing her, I stepped to the side and kept my arm secured around her waist. Only a few hours ago we’d agreed that everything we did was just work, just keeping up appearances, but fuck if my cock didn’t get the memo.

“We’re probably done here,” I said into her ear, guiding her through the maze of tables and chairs and people. “The boys will stay out longer. It’s getting late—you need to get Lola home.”

She opened her mouth before nodding. “Right. She’s not at home.” Her sigh cut through me. “Damn, I’m gonna have to wake her up now.”

I nodded. “Come on. You did good tonight.” I squeezed her into me. “And the good news is that tomorrow is my day off, which means it’s yours too.”

Her expression brightened considerably at that knowledge. “Well, then, let’s go!”

***

The bed creaked as I rolled over. My cock was rock hard and straining against my boxers, and every position I’d attempted to lie in had been anything but comfortable. I was tired and frustrated thanks to my inability to sleep for very long last night.

If it hadn’t been the neighbor’s dog barking at god knows what in the middle of the night, it’d been the ridiculous dreams I’d had involving a certain blond.

No matter how hard I’d tried, I’d been unable to shake the filthy as fuck dreams about Perrie.

I still couldn’t shake it. My erection was borderline fucking painful, and the clock told me it wasn’t even six in the morning yet.

I flopped onto my back and threw my arm over my eyes. Even with my eyes open, I could still make out the ink that adorned my forearm. The lines and curves that swept across my skin were an intricate pattern of thick and thin, of dark and light, forming roses and letters and dates that mattered.

I pulled my arm away and sat up. The house was completely silent, the echoes of my creaking bedsprings the only sign of life.

My cock throbbed again, and a sleepy lust crept through my veins. There was only one way I was getting rid of this—something I didn’t want to do. Apparently, my body didn’t get that memo.

Groaning, I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. It still smelled like a woman—all flowery, powdery shit. It lingered in a heavy, almost sickly way, but the undertone was clear.

My bathroom smelled like fucking Perrie, and it didn’t help my hard-on at all.

I locked the door and started the shower. I needed to work this out of my system as quickly as I possibly could, even if it meant I would struggle to look her in the eye tomorrow.

I’d never been so fucking thankful for a day off in my life.

Steam filled the room as the shower got up to temperature. I stripped out of my underwear and kicked it into the laundry basket before stepping into the cubicle.

The water was almost scalding. Any other day I would have flinched away from it, but working so closely with Perrie in such dank places…I was thankful for it. I wanted it to burn away the memories of the hours we’d spent together over the past couple of days.

Wanted it to burn away the things I was thinking and feeling. This misplaced attraction, this unwanted desire. I wanted the water to strip it away until I couldn’t feel it any longer.

My cock bobbed as the water hit it. I hissed as it bounced off the tip of my erection, bowing my head so it hit my neck instead. I reached for the soap—that was my first attempt at ignoring the throbbing that pulsed through the length of my dick.

Closing my eyes, I soaped up my body.

It didn’t fucking help.

I was still hard.

Pressing my forearm against the shower wall, I bent right forward and rested my forehead against my arm. The shower water streamed down my back, and I muttered a curse.

I hadn’t been in this position since I was fifteen.

Why the fuck did it have to be now? Why the hell did she have to be the cause of it? Of all the women in the world…It was the one who was off limits who had my hand grasping the base of my cock so I could stroke the frustration out.