Kiss Me, Baby - Vegas, Baby

Epilogue

Zack

“Zack! I need to get this article posted!” Amelia halfheartedly pushed against my chest. I didn’t budge, keeping my mouth glued to her neck. She’d been working at my desk while I met with my managers. Now that I was done for the day, I’d returned to my office to collect my wife and go home. We had one stop to make, then we’d relieve Delia of babysitting duty.

She’d just looked too fucking tempting, sitting there staring at the computer with cute little glasses on her nose and her hair up in a messy thing on top of her head, exposing her slender neck. I’d walked over to stand behind her and couldn’t stop myself from tasting her sweetness.

“Go ahead and work,” I murmured as I slid my lips along her silky skin. “Don’t mind me. I’m just having an evening snack.”

Amelia moaned and tilted her head to the side so I had better access. “You’re distracting me,” she protested weakly.

My mouth watered for more, and I spun the chair around and braced my hands on the arms as I bent down and fused our mouths.

Thirty minutes later, I stuck my wife’s panties in my pocket and gave her pussy one last kiss before gently pushing her legs together. She was sprawled in the chair, panting and still shivering from the three orgasms I gave her. I couldn’t help the cocky grin that spread across my face at the sight of my woman looking freshly fucked and satisfied.

After smoothing her skirt back into place, I got to my feet and licked my lips, wondering if I needed another taste. Then I decided against it since it would keep Amelia from finishing her work and delay us from getting home. “I need to pop in at the arena and check in with Drew and Knox.”

Amelia’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me with confusion for a moment before the haze began to dissipate. “Good,” she sighed as she straightened in the high back leather chair. “No more distracting me?”

I laughed at her tone. “Are you asking me or telling me, beautiful?”

She cleared her throat and spoke with more conviction. “Go. I’ll be finished when you get back, and you can distract me some more after the kids are in bed.”

A wide smile stretched across my face, and I winked at her. “I’m going to be doing a fuck of a lot more than distracting you tonight.” I leaned down to give her a quick kiss, then started for the door. “I’ll be back soon, and I’m taking you home whether you are finished or not,” I warned. “You shouldn’t be working so hard in your condition anyway.”

It only took me ten minutes to get to the arena that was attached to both The Artemis and the Lennox. Drew and I had created a partnership years ago and built it between our hotels. It made for a larger, more spectacular space that would attract bigger names. We had most types of entertainment booked, and this weekend, we were hosting the finals for the MMA championship.

When I arrived, Knox and Drew were standing a few feet from the ring talking to Michael St. John, who was the favorite to win the championship. He looked pissed as fuck. “Saint,” I greeted as I walked up to the trio. “From the look on your face, I assume they’ve told you about the switch in opponents tonight.”

He nodded and cracked his knuckles ominously. He opened his mouth to respond when something caught his eye, and he suddenly spun toward the ring.

I followed his intense gaze to see a pretty, young girl in a tiny bikini stepping into the ring. She walked to the referee, who handed her a set of signs with numbers. She was obviously the new ring girl, and though she tried to look confident, it was clear she was nervous and out of her element.

Saint suddenly growled, “Oh, fuck no!” before charging to the ring and climbing inside. He wrenched off his silver robe, and when he reached the girl, he threw it over her. Then he threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold, climbed out of the ring, and marched back over to us. Saint set the girl down next to Knox and gave him a hard look. “Hold this for me.” Saint turned away, but the girl shouted, “Hey, wait! You can’t just pick me up, put me where you want me, and tell some strange guy”—she hitched her thumb toward Knox—“to hold me for you…while calling me a ‘this.’ I’m a woman, not a thing.”

Saint pivoted back around, and his gaze swept down her body, which was only partially covered by the silver robe, then back up to her face. “I’m well aware that you’re a woman,” he stated. Then his expression darkened with irritation. “The scraps of material you’re wearing that are supposed to pass for a bikini made it more than clear. I could see just about every inch of your delectable body, including your pebbled nipples pressing against the top.”