Get Lucky (10 page)

In the kitchen, I hear the familiar squawk of a familiar pain-in-the-ass parrot. “Hey Peebles. Glad to hear you’re alive and kicking, you little bastard,” I whisper, draping lines of toilet paper over the rustic looking chandelier they’ve hung in the ceiling.

The bird continues to squawk and move in its cage. I head over and open the door, reaching inside. I can see a dark shape rustling around, and wince as something pecks me. Fucking animal.

“Here, Peebles. Here, you little feathery asshole,” I mutter, and I grab the bird. Peebles shrieks and whistles, but I pull him out, grinning down at him in the light from the streetlamps outside. Julia stumbles into the kitchen after me.

“Okay. I’m outta TP. I think we should hit the road.” She looks down at her feet. “Where are my shoes?”

“Outside,” I say, grabbing her up around the waist and kissing her. I’ve never felt so alive, with a beautiful woman in my arm and a parrot in my hand. Peebles reminds me of his shitty existence with another peck. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“
R
emember
, I’ve always kept my jacket buttoned like this,” I whisper to Nate as we walk into the hotel lobby.

The night guy at the reception desk gives us a surprised look. Well, I
am
barefoot with Nate’s jacket draped over my shoulders, plus hugging myself like I have a terrible stomach problem. Well, I got ninety-nine problems right now, and a bird smuggled in under my hookup’s jacket is the most pressing one.

Put
that
into the song, musical person.

“You look like you have a hernia,” he whispers back.

But for you, baby, it’ll be a sexy hernia.

“Look, we’re getting stares. Where do we go now?” I hiss. Nate keeps his hand on my back—and guides it a little lower to my ass. Instantly, heat floods my core, moving lower.

Fuck it. I’m into it. Let’s have sex on top of the parrot.

Fortunately, he’s a little more focused on business right now than I am.

“Follow me,” he says, and guides me past the front desk and the elevator bank, and out onto the casino floor. Even at whatever o’clock this is, there are still people on the slots and at the tables. Time works differently in a Vegas casino, same as in an Indian opium den, or watching that fourth
Transformers
movie. You’re never quite sure when you started, and you have a vague idea of when you’ll finish. For all you know, you’ve been here for years.

“Over here,” Nate says, hooking an arm around me and taking me through to a long, echoing corridor.

Ah, I know where we’re going. The hotel has a conservatory.

We emerge into a jungle-like glen, with palm trees and fake rock walls, and high above us, a domed glass ceiling to let in the sunlight. It’s Japanese cherry blossom season, and there’s a kind of teahouse overlooking a small, fake pond. Paper birds, made from bright pink and yellow paper, soar above us on strings. The air smells of magnolia and cherry blossom; bright bursts of hibiscus flare around us.

And boom: there are the birds.

There are cages of parrots, and some birds flying free around the room. I look up, agog. “I didn’t know this hotel had birds.”

That is my brilliant contribution to this conversation. Envy me, for I am a wordsmith.

“Maybe Peebles would like it here,” he says, as I unbutton my coat and pull out the squawking bird.

Damn. His wings are strong as shit. He flaps them, whacking me in the face a couple of times.
Fuck you, bird.

“I hate the name Peebles. Maybe change it to Francois. Or Millicent. Whatever, here you go, birdy!” I whisper, and toss him up into the air.

The parrot flaps his wings and soars up to whistle and click with all the other birds. Well, if I was a parrot, I’d rather live in a dense indoor tropical jungleland than a cage in someone’s Vegas subdivision.
Good luck, Peebles. You nasty little jerk.

“I think we should go back to my room,” Nate whispers in my ear.

My skin thrills a little at his touch, and he traces his hand down my arm. His breath is warm, the scent of alcohol and bad decisions potent like a delicious cologne. I can feel his muscled body pressed up against the line of my back, and it’s driving me wild. I have to see him naked.

“I think room we should back to, yes, go,” I respond, breathless. Hey, you try making sense while being incredibly horny at the same time.

We head back to the elevators and speed up to the top floor. With Nate’s arm in mine, holding me steady, I make it down the lushly carpeted hall and to his door. He fumbles with the key a minute, opens up, and flicks on the lights.

I enter the foyer and whistle, taking it all in. Damn.

“Who did you have to screw to get a penthouse?” I murmur, leaning against him as he kicks the door closed with his foot. Ahead of us, floor to ceiling windows offer a view of the Vegas Strip, lights shimmering, bursts of neon exploding in the distance.

“My client’s ex-wife,” he says. When my eyebrows shoot up, Nate chuckles. “My firm represents people with a lot to lose in divorce settlements. A particular owner of a huge amount of Vegas property was going through a rather messy divorce. Supermodel married him, cheated on him, and still thought she was entitled to half.” He shrugs. “He didn’t see it coming, poor idiot.”

“Well, I’m sure he married her for their compatibility and mutual love and respect,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I don’t get why some people think marriage is about collecting trophies.”

“I don’t disagree,” he says, while we walk into the living room. He kisses the back of my neck. “But he was pretty desperate. And I managed to buy her off with a fraction of what she was after.”

“No wonder you don’t think much of romance,” I sigh. He flips on a light in the living room. I do something of a double take. “Then again, with hotel rooms like these, I don’t think it bothers you much.”

The room is sunken, two carpeted steps down and you’re in a vast living area replete with soft white couches. The coffee table is polished black wood, the drapes by the windows deep violet silk.

“I get to stay for free,” Nate says, sliding an arm around my waist, cradling me against his body. He sounds a little proud. And hell, he probably should be. “The perks of being a corrupt, heartless lawyer.”

“Hey now.” I turn and shake a finger at him. “I never said you were corrupt.”

He laughs, that rich, melodious sound that slides down my skin and liquefies my panties. Nate presses me against his body. His mouth finds mine, the kiss scorching hot. The slight stubble on his face rasps against my cheek. I sigh, melting into his arms.

“You think we should get cleaned up?” he whispers in my ear.

Mmm, a nice hot shower. Just what I need.

Plus, I was bird-handling for a while. I should wash my hands.

“Lead the way.” I grin at him as we head into the bathroom, which is pretty much a marble palace all on its own. I blink in the soft mood lighting from the sconces on the wall. No fluorescents in this baby. Man, maybe going into divorce law is the way to enjoy the good things.

That’s a depressing thought.

Then Nate slides his hand under my shirt, and anything depressing gets shot out of a cannon and sent far, far away.

“Now, now. Why don’t you run the water?” I say, turning around and ghosting my lips against his mouth.

He growls low in his throat, an animal sound. I love it. He turns on the shower, and I admire the view as he pulls his shirt up over his head. Fucking in that closet was fun, but I didn’t get to enjoy the sensational sights now on display. His chest is rock-hard and muscled, with a distinct six-pack of abs that I’d like to explore. A line of dark hair leads into his boxers, and when he pulls those down . . . well. His ass is spectacularly sculpted.

Lucky me.

Heh. Getting lucky. Luck. Vegas.
If I wasn’t so tipsy, there’d be so many ways to spin that joke.

“Aren’t you afraid we’ll be interrupted?” I ask as I unclasp my bra. Then I unzip my skirt, and get into the shower.

Nate grins and follows me, a wicked light in his eyes. Wicked is my favorite kind of light. And my favorite musical.

Okay. No show tunes right now, Julia. There’s a time and a place for all things.

“Mike’s rarely in his room here. He wanted to be with Stacy. I think Tyler’s still out on the Strip somewhere. Probably horndogging it around town,” he says, kissing my bare shoulder. I groan as he joins me under the hot water, the glass stall steaming up around us.

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from your bachelor party,” I say, hitching my leg up around his waist. Already, I can feel his cock hardening, pushing against me. We kiss again, and Nate nibbles at my jaw, my neck.

“I think Mike and Stacy are having a better time just by themselves.” He grins down at me, and we kiss. I get lost in it, and he tightens his arms around my body. “They don’t have nearly as much fun apart as they do together.”

“That’s the kind of love everyone looks out for,” I say, my mouth wandering down his neck. I also circle my hand around his fully-erect cock. My fingers trail along its length, and I earn a hiss that melts into a moan.

“Maybe. But in a pinch, sex with a beautiful woman in a shower will do,” he growls against my mouth.

I grin, peppering kisses up his jawline, then down the other side of his neck. I go lower, lower until I’m on my knees in front of him, eye level with his shaft.

I wink up at him, and he gasps. “What are you doing?”

“One guess,” I say, and lick him. One of those nice, slow licks, introducing the head of his cock to my tongue and earning a sharp inhale. I pull back just enough to press a delicate kiss across his crown before I take him into my mouth, easing him in slowly.

Nate groans, and I grip his thighs, rock-hard and perfectly muscled. And I can’t help it—I groan, myself, the sound guttural and deep. I take him deep with a hard suck. My hand closes around the base of his cock, offering a consolatory squeeze, and my head begins to rock back and forth.

“Jesus, your mouth is fucking perfect,” he whispers, bracing one hand against the shower stall. “Keep going.”

I taste him very slowly, exploring his every thick, throbbing inch. He tastes wonderful, salt and steel. My tongue swirls and explores, lapping around him, caressing his cockhead every time I pull away. I’m not sure what he likes more, so I give it all to him. A long suck and then a lick of my tongue. A hard pull and a squeeze of my hand. Nate’s groans grow louder and more frequent, his body lined with tension, and I’m kinda addicted to him being at my mercy.

“Julia,” he whispers, his voice throaty.

“Mmm,” I respond. I squeeze the base of his shaft again, then suck him all the way, deeper than before, as deep as I can go. I feel him brush the back of my throat and instinctively swallow, reveling in his hitching breath, the slight tremble in his legs. It’s not a position I can hold long, but I take my time when I draw him out again, my lips pulling on every inch of his delicious skin. When only the tip of him remains in my mouth, I compress my lips around it, and give it a good, long lick.

That’s when Nate tries to move, to take control of the situation. I put one hand to his hip, and he stills. He’s mine to play with and torment right now. And, judging by the ragged sound of his breathing, he couldn’t be happier about it.

I move faster, my other hand taking its place again at the base of his cock, pumping and squeezing up and down in tandem with pulls of my mouth. For a moment, it’s that—my head bobbing, his taste everywhere, his skin feverish under my fingers, his legs beginning to tremble as I take his cock again and again and again. Then I change my pace, slowing, languid, giving my tongue time to swirl and savor. Every time I edge back, I pay special attention to his cockhead, not too much pressure—just enough to have him
really
moan.

“Fuck yes,” he gasps.

Then I switch again, sucking harder, faster, and stroking what part of him I can’t take into my mouth at this pace.

Nate groans again, his voice getting raspier. “I can’t hold on much longer.” He grips my hair, his hips thrusting, his cock pistoning in and out of my mouth. I let him this time, savoring his urgency, the raw need in his voice, the way his balls nearly brush my chin every time he drives himself in. He’s tense all over, and I know it’s about to burst.

His breaths cadence the air, his body’s tremors intensifying. I know he wants deeper, wants the back of my throat again, and I want that, too. But his need sends white hot sparks through my body, and I realize for the first time how wet I am. That part of the ache I feel is due to the pulsing between my legs. I slip a hand down my stomach and cup my heated pussy, my fingers rolling over my clit as my mouth strides to keep up with the thrusts of his cock. I jolt, and it feels so good I caress myself again.

When Nate sees what I am doing, the animal look in his magnetic eyes grows even wilder. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he rasps.

Oh, I think I do.

I slide my tongue along his length again, dragging my fingers down my wet slit as I do, until the head of his cock is again at my throat, and I work my muscles around him. He trembles and murmurs—or cries—my name, so I do it again. And again, and again, and
fucking yes
again. I can taste how close he is, feel how badly he needs it, and damn, I need it, too. I can’t remember the last time I wanted to give myself over to a man like this, feel him swell on my tongue, hear him call my name in a desperate voice as I drive him onward to the edge, leave him hanging, then onward and onward until . . . .

“Fuck,” Nate groans, throwing his head back. I take him in a final time until he reaches the back of my throat, and I swallow and I swallow and I swallow, and he explodes, fast and hot, spilling himself in a nosedive of control.

A moment later I pull back, releasing him, and wipe off the sides of my mouth. Like a lady, dammit. I stand and smile at him.

Nate is pressed back against the marble wall, his eyes half lidded.

“I think I did all right,” I muse, appreciating the sight of my handiwork.

“Better than all right,” he murmurs, and pulls me to him, kissing me hungrily. His hands trail over my breasts, my nipples peaking beneath his attention. “I think you deserve a reward,” he breathes before kissing me again.

He palms my breasts just long enough to thumb my nipples before snaking an arm around me, holding me against him. He slides his other hand between my legs, which are now trembling, and picks up where I left off, strumming my clit, gently at first but gaining urgency. I gasp and buck in his arms.

“Easy, baby. I want to listen to you come,” he whispers in my ear, rubbing the wet seam of my pussy before poising a finger at my opening. He nips my lower lip, presses down on my clit with his thumb, then slowly eases his finger into me.

I keen and groan. Nate watches me, his eyes alight with desire. He gasps as I groan, biting my bottom lip as his attentions spark a feeling in me.

God, how can I already be on the edge? This man’s a magician.

Hard to believe that a few hours ago I thought he was cold. He’s passionate, domineering, everything I’d want in a hero in one of my books. But he’s with me tonight, here and in the flesh. After Drew, I thought I’d never experience anything like it again. Hell, I thought I’d never experience it, period. This kind of lust, all-consuming, furious, passionate, I’ve never had anything like it.