Vegas Miracle (15 page)

"What the hell," she muttered as the pain and nausea passed as quickly as they came.  Just what she needed.  Food poisoning in Vegas now that she was learning Ryan’s deepest secret and learning to enjoy him as well.

Grabbing a towel after turning the shower nozzles off, Grace wrapped herself up.  After deciding the unhealthy green tinge did nothing for her complexion, Grace used a brush to tame her long hair and took a step back into the suite, her now empty stomach crying out for something substantial like pancakes or scrambled eggs.

The sight in front of her made her stop dead and put a hand over her mouth.   Ryan was on his knees in front of Henri, his mouth on the young man’s erect cock, his hand under his balls.   Henri was sitting, leaning back on one arm, the other hand in Ryan’s thick hair.   Shoving his hips up, forcing his cock further inside Ryan’s mouth, he groaned low and loud.

"Oh God, now!" he yelled out.  Ryan pulled his mouth up off Henri’s cock and flipped him around.    Her husband shoved his cock inside the man’s ass hard, forcing him down onto the bed but not before Grace saw Henri come, the fluid spurting high up onto his stomach as Ryan entered him.

Grace gasped and had to touch her clit as she reacted to the near violence of Ryan’s action as he fucked Henri while the young man lay prone, collapsed down on the bed, his ass tilted up to take Ryan’s penetration.  Ryan shoved inside Henri fast and hard, the sight of his slick rod ramming in and out of Henri’s flesh nearly brought Grace to her knees.  At the last moment Ryan pulled out, gave his cock a couple of jerks and came all over Henri’s ass and back.

Ryan grunted, his body jerking forward with the effort of his orgasm before he collapsed onto Henri’s prone form.   Her entire body clenched at the sight and Grace had to sit in a chair to absorb what she’d just seen, and been massively turned on by as a result.  She watched as her husband rolled off Henri onto his back, and the young man positioned himself in the crook of Ryan’s arm, nestling in just like Grace liked to do.  Ryan leaned over and kissed the top of Henri’s head as he threw a dark skinned leg over Ryan’s torso, snuggling in even closer.  Something about this simple, tender gesture made Grace’s face redden and her breath catch in her throat.  They were so beautiful lying there together.  Tears leaked from her eye as she wrestled with the concept that her presence wasn’t required.  They didn’t seem aware of her at all in fact as she stood on the far side of the large room. When she tiptoed back to the closet to grab some jeans and tee shirt, tears blurred her vision.   Not sure why she was feeling so empty, Grace stumbled and dropped the shoe she was trying to slip on.

"Grace?"  Ryan called out.  "You there?"

"Yeah, I’m um, just gonna head downstairs.  Need some coffee.  I’m taking my computer so I can try and get some work done."  She wiped the tears from her face.  "Not feeling great so I won’t be good company. I’ll, ah, talk to you later, okay?"  Without waiting for an answer, she punched the button to open the waiting elevator and disappeared inside the small, square space.  The last look she caught was of Ryan, standing there in his naked glory running a hand over his face, worry in his eyes.

****

"That was okay, wasn’t it?"  Ryan laid down on the bed, his usual post-orgasmic stupor forming a cloud behind his eyes, forcing them shut. "I mean, I know I had a good time and I’m pretty sure she did too.”  He started to rise and head for the bathroom to clean up.

The next thing he knew, Ryan found himself on his hands and knees on the floor.  Looking up, he frowned into Henri’s angry eyes glaring at him from his perch where’d he’d just dumped Ryan off the bed.

"What the hell?" he turned around and sat on the plush rug beside the bed and ran a hand through his hair.  "What was that for?"

"You are such an ass, you know it?"

Ryan raised his eyebrows.  "At times."  He leaned back on his hands, unsure what he’d done this time.

Henri swung his bare feet around and faced Ryan, sitting above him, hands on his knees.  Ryan looked up at the ceiling, trying to focus.  His head pounded with the need for more sleep and something was niggling the back of his brain about Grace that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  Leveling his eyes at his lover, he spoke without thinking.

"She’s my wife.  I think I know her better than you do so back off."  Pushing himself up to stand, Ryan glared down at Henri who still sat without speaking.

"You don’t know shit," the young man declared.

"Really," Ryan crossed his arms over his chest.  "Then pray tell what deep insight into her are you gonna lay on me now, oh swami of the female psyche?"

"Like I’ve said before, women in general are a mystery. This one, however, is becoming clearer to me."

"We had the deep talk already.  I told her about my asshole father and my dead brother, hoping she’d get a handle on my difficulty with open communication.  What more can I do?"

"Jesus," Henri stood up and brushed past Ryan, grazing his shoulder.   "You think one ‘real conversation’ means all is well?  Damn it Ryan, the one thing I did learn being married for thirty minutes was that any woman worth marrying is worth communicating with. Constantly.  They need it.   You can’t just dump all that shit on her and expect her to just absorb it and move on."

Ryan stared at the man as he emerged from the bathroom and yanked on his jeans.

"So help me Ryan, this woman is worth the effort.  If you won’t make it, I will."

Ryan’s head spun.  Henri was right.  He’d left that next morning after the party, his gut in knots, and managed to finagle another trip just after the George Cinq week.  They’d sunk back into their normal conversational ruts: Her new book progress, her sister’s kids, and updates about her dad.  Ryan loved the normalcy of it all.  It soothed him and made him feel safe and stable.  But he hadn’t brought up Henri with her other than to explain who he was relative to Ryan’s business and he certainly hadn’t elaborated on the Liam story.  He couldn’t.  It ripped his guts out to even think about it, much less describe it to her.  He knew she needed more.

Ryan sighed and sat heavily in the chair Grace had vacated and watched as Henri slipped his feet into shoes.  When he remembered their last night, the night he'd finally told her his most traumatic family story, his face flushed in a combination of fear and dread.  He’d stopped her from using the diaphragm.  Her face had looked puzzled but he knew she was pleased.  Ryan knew he’d done it not out of any real change of heart on his part.  The thought of children he could fuck up still made him ill.  But Grace needed this so badly, she wanted to have their child. And Ryan wanted to make her happy.

His phone buzzed across the marble table.  Glancing at it, he noted the international number.

"Ryan Sullivan," he barked into the device, eyes apologizing to the angry man standing over him.

****

"But, you just got here," Grace insisted as the three of them shared coffee and pancakes in the Aria’s large suite.  She sat back and pouted as Henri patted her knee.

"C’mon my darling, you know he’s married to the job before either of us."

Ryan shot the man a murderous look.   Henri’s gaze remained neutral.  Grace pursed her lips.

"Look, I have to be back in Detroit.  I told Alice I’d stay with the girls for a long weekend so she and Trevor could get some time alone.  You know, sort of like what we're supposed to be doing?"

Ryan frowned.

"Stay here as long as you like."  Ryan stood, drained the last of his coffee and planted kisses first on Grace’s lips then Henri’s.  "I’ll make it up to both of you."

Henri turned to Grace and ran a dark hand down her face as she fought back tears.  He was very special to her already but her heart was still heavy at the thought of Ryan going away yet again.  Their opportunity to talk more about his childhood, for her to get a better handle of what made him so moody and angry, disappearing before her eyes once more.

"I have to stay here this month.  It’s high season.  People expect the ‘celebrity’ part of the ‘celebrity chef’ thing to actually be around a bit.  We’re booked solid the entire time.  I gotta be here to do my thing.  I’m sorry." Henri looked away.

Grace felt anger surge through her brain.  She stood so fast she sent the room service table flying.   Henri grabbed his coffee cup off it as it skittered past him, his face calm and expectant.  Ryan caught the table before it rammed into his legs, a look of surprise on his face.   Fork still clutched in hand, she leveled a murderous stare at her husband.

"Ryan Sullivan, you..." She felt her teeth grind together and the beginning of a stress headache forming behind her eyes.  "Just last night you told me you had... him!” She pointed to Henri, who merely raised his coffee cup in acknowledgment. “You two fuck me then you leave?  Are you serious?"  Her breath was coming in gasps, rage boiling in her like thunderstorm clouds.   She clamped down the urge to cry.  That would do no good now. He’d ignore it, throw presents at her, anything to keep from facing the fact of his extreme selfishness.

Henri sipped his coffee, eyeing her without speaking.  She glanced at him once, then stepped over to Ryan.  Something was making her head spin so she gripped the chair.  The worry in Ryan’s eyes just pissed her off more.

"Look, asshole, I don’t need your fake sympathy, your presents, your gracious bestowal of a high priced hotel suite.  God damn it Ryan, I need
you
.  How many times do I have to say it?"  Tears sprang to eyes but she wiped them away.

"Grace, honey, I," before she knew what was happening she slapped him, hard.  Her hand stung, but she did it again.  She gasped as his face reddened.  Neither of them moved. Then her grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips.

"God, honey, I'm sorry.  I have to though, it’s," She yanked her stinging palm from his lips.

"Don’t honey me.  Just leave.  Like you always do."  She whirled on Henri who sat, legs crossed, a small smile playing over his dark face.  "And you, you go on and be the celebrity.  It’s what I’m sure you’re best at—being the center of all the fucking attention.  Gah!"

Ignoring the nausea rising in her gut, she threw up her hands and pulled her suitcase from the closet.

"I’m going home today."

"Do whatever you want," Ryan called from the front door.  "I’ll call you from the air."

Grace ignored him, blinded by tears of frustration as she threw her clothes back into the suitcase while Henri watched, worry creasing his forehead.  The solid snick of the elevator doors closing behind her husband sounded like a death knell to Grace.   She sank to the floor, leaning on the bed, letting sobs rack her body.

"No!"  She shouted when Henri tried to comfort her.  "Go.  Just leave me alone."  She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door in his face.

Chapter Thirteen

Two and a half weeks later...

"I’ll be in by seven."
  Ryan set aside his phone hoping Grace and Henri got his text.  He wondered if they were even interested in seeing him.  He'd effectively ignored them both for the better part of three weeks.  The South American project was in shambles.  Graft and corruption riddled the Sao Paulo landscape and contractors and sub contractors were all in cahoots to screw the investors via bribery demands that seemed to come nonstop.  Ryan got things back on track and hired a local to supervise promising him an astounding bonus if the project came in on time and under budget.

His throat was tight as he rode the limo in from the airport, the familiar outlines of the Aria, a second home to him now, rising into view.  The lobby was full as Ryan strode through, not stopping to chat with anyone as staff members scattered out of his way, familiar with the stormy look on his face that signaled ass chewing's if he was interrupted.  His penthouse suite was completely dark when the elevator doors parted.  Anger and disappointment surged in Ryan’s gut.  They weren’t even here.

The swish of a match being lit to his left and the sizzle of a large candlewick startled him.  He smiled.

"Welcome home, Ryan," Grace’s voice was near his other ear, the sound of her pouring relief over his soul.  He let her take his hand.  "We have something for you."

Henri followed and put the candle on the bedside table as Grace put her lips over Ryan’s and he melted into her, moaning at the simple touch, more relieved than he wanted to admit that they were even talking to him, much less kissing him.  He felt Henri’s lips on his neck, his hands unbuttoning his shirt.  Keeping his lips on Grace's, he let Henri undress him, pulling off his shoes, socks, and unbuckling his belt and slipping his trousers down and off.

Suppressing a small thrill of panic, he muttered against Grace’s lips.

"What’s all this?"

"Shhh," she whispered.  "No talking."

Ryan felt his always-in-control self, balk and he shifted as he sensed Grace settle between his legs.  His cock was painfully stiff.  He’d not gone without sex for nearly three weeks in a long time, having had either Grace or Henri nearby.  But he'd even denied himself masturbation while he was gone this time.  Part of him too exhausted by the end of each sweltering, frustrating day in Brazil to consider it, the other part punishing himself for leaving them so soon after they'd discovered each other that night in Vegas.

He’d resisted his usual impulse to buy things, to shower them both with ridiculous and expensive gifts.  It was time he owned up and got real.  Just like they’d both said.   Open up, let himself feel, really feel, risk getting hurt.   He was at risk of losing them both if he didn’t.  The time he’d spent alone in the Brazilian hotel room staring at the ceiling, drinking beer, trying to come to terms with his shortcomings had brought on a serious bought of self-awareness.  It was, in a word, terrifying.  But he was willing to go there, if the people he loved required it of him.  He was eager to share, but was already feeling overwhelmed by their greeting.

He felt himself flex and get even harder as Grace swallowed him.  Then Henri was at his side using his fingers to press against the base of Ryan’s cock.  Someone cradled his balls. Someone else pressed into his perineum, sending a coil of desire springing through his brain.  But wait, this was wrong, he was supposed to be the giver here. Ryan mumbled as he felt the tip of his cock touch the back of Grace’s throat again.  Lips lapped at his erect nipple and Ryan fought against the thought that it was all too much.  He shouldn’t be giving in like this.