Submitting in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 3)
“Sweet baby Jesus,” I murmur. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“You’re right, it’s much better to do them. You should sleep over again tonight and we’ll do a morning workout together before we hit the sauna.”
As hard as I’m trying not to get carried away, that suggestion causes my heart to do backflips. “I could probably do that,” I tell him. “I have to work tomorrow night, but you actually have one of my work outfits, so…”
“I do, don’t I? I forgot about that. Juanita cleaned and ironed it for you, but I don’t know where she put it. We’ll find out tomorrow. If you’re going to be here, I’ll make you fix our breakfast, give her the morning off. Maybe by lunch time, I’ll let you put clothes on.”
“Sounds good to me,” I tell him, leaning my head back against his shoulder as he brings the spray around to hit my breasts. He lets the spray hit each nipple for a few seconds, then moves around to the front of my body and pushes the spray down between my legs. “Oh, God,” I murmur, the spray hitting my pussy. At the same time, he bends his head and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking, and then nipping.
Pressure builds from within. He releases that breast, switches to the other, and moves his hand between my legs, caressing me with two fingers. The spray moves to my thigh for a moment while he fondles me, and I breathe a sigh—of relief or disappointment, I’m not entirely sure.
Popping off my nipple, he pulls me into the shelter of his chest and murmurs, “You like that?”
“Yes,” I manage, a little breathless.
“Good,” he says, aiming the head between my legs again. “Spread your legs wider.”
I do, then I shudder as the spray hits my clit at a different angle. He only keeps it there for a moment, then he slides it back and sprays lower before bringing it right back to my clit. I’m whimpering in under a minute, clinging to him in under two, and crying out into his shoulder as I come just a cluster of seconds later.
Rafe kisses my forehead, hangs the attachment back on the wall, and turns the rain shower back on. I’m glowing. I’ve never had so many orgasms in the space of 12 hours before and I feel incredibly relaxed. Rafe locks his strong arms around me from behind and tugs me back against him, and my bliss is complete.
“Now, bend over and put your hands against the wall so I can fuck that pussy one more time before we leave.”
I do not hesitate to obey.
It’s a chilly day, I’m wearing yesterday’s outfit, and I couldn’t be any happier.
On the way over, I asked Rafe if I should say—or not say—anything specific to Laurel abou
t what happened between us last night.
Rafe shrugged his shoulders and said, “Doesn’t matter.”
I tried not to dissect those four syllables—his tone, the relatively impassive look on his face, his relaxed grip on the steering wheel—but I couldn’t help it; obviously I did all that anyway, and filed my findings away in a nifty file to think about again later when I don’t have him right here with me.
My immediate takeaway is that Rafe doesn’t seem to regret anything that happened last night, and since he already invited me to spend the night again tonight… well, I don’t know, but I’m going to let myself be happy. Thrilled. Ecstatic. Even if I actually get coal today, it will be the best Christmas of my life.
We’re late, though. I realized we would be when we got out of the shower and it was already 8 o’clock. I sent Laurel a text and apologized, telling her they should go ahead and start without us. Judging by how many presents were under the tree and the ages of their babies, unwrapping will take a while.
As we approach the front door, Rafe’s hand settles at the small of my back. It’s a signal for me to stop, I think, since I’m in my usual single mode, barging ahead and doing my own thing. Rafe likes to be in charge.
He smiles faintly and moves in front of me, but he doesn’t knock. This time, he just opens the door. Since they knew we were on our way, the door is unlocked.
“Lock it behind you,” Sin barks from the living room, as soon as we step inside.
“I’m on it,” Rafe assures him, closing the door and kicking each lock into place. I know Sin’s kind of paranoid about his locks, but considering what happened to his first wife and daughter, I can’t blame the poor guy.
Rafe kicks off his brown Oxfords and I glance down at them. They’re a touch more casual, a touch more rugged than the shoes he usually wears. I love being with him on his casual days.
Today he wears a burgundy sweater and black slacks, but every time I look at him, I envision him naked. I envision him the way he looked this morning when I was sitting on the edge of his bed and he sauntered in wearing nothing more than a white towel. On top of the casual intimacy of that perfect moment, he had this little smile on his face that set my heart on a journey I’m not sure it’ll ever come back from. Poor heart. Bon voyage!
Rafe chuckles at me and I realize I’m just standing here mooning at him instead of walking up the stairs to join everyone else in the Christmas morning festivities. I force my feet to move, turning around and heading up the steps, feeling a faint heat on my cheeks. I hope I’m not actually blushing, but I think I am.
About half the presents are still under the tree. Carly and Sin are on the floor with Skylar, while Vince and Laurel sit on the couch. Nicholas is snuggled up in Laurel’s arms, and Skylar is slowly opening a rectangular package.
Laurel looks up and flashes us both smiles as we come in. “Merry Christmas!”
I lean down and hug her, smiling at baby Nicholas. “Merry Christmas. How is the most handsome boy in the world enjoying his first Christmas?”