Vegas Miracle (3 page)

"Don’t want to wait," she insisted, pushing him down onto the chaise lounge, unzipping his shorts and pulling his long, lean cock free of its restraints.  Before he could protest, she was on her knees sucking the glistening purple head into her mouth, the salty essence of him filling her throat as she swallowed his length all the way down, one hand cupping his balls as they clenched and tightened.  His hands fisted in her hair, bringing a slight edge of pleasant pain to her consciousness.

His cock throbbed between her lips as she released him until just his swollen head was in her mouth.  Applying a small amount of suction, she used her hand up and down his long, elegant shaft, her whole body shuddering in anticipation of taking all of him inside her.  She lapped at the sensitive edge of his head as his hips bucked beneath her before she took all the way down again.

"Swallow me again. God, that was," he groaned as Grace did just that.  "Can I," he grunted with effort."I’m gonna...You’ve got me so close already."

Grace cupped his balls once more and moved up and down, swallowing his entire length before releasing him.  Her head swam with his scent and his flavor, and Grace loved knowing what she was doing to him.  Ryan gave one last shove and Grace moaned as her mouth filled with so much of his fluid it trickled down the corner of her mouth.  Drinking him down with such eagerness, Grace fought a moment of embarrassment when she released his spent shaft and she sat back on her heels, still kneeling between his legs, her hands gripping his thighs.

Ryan blew out a gust of air and cupped her face with both hands, leaning in, diving into her mouth once more.  She shared his essence back with him and never remembered feeling so connected with a man.  "Grace, that was, " he released her lips and grinned at her.

"Yeah, I know."  She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, a sudden burst of fear leaving her with the overwhelming desire to curl up in his lap and never leave.  It was scary, intoxicating and terrifying all in one breath.  Ryan zipped himself up and stood, taking her hand and pulling her into his arms.

"We still have a date, right?" His voice was low, nearly inaudible.

"Date?" She smiled into his chest, inhaling him in deep breaths, hoping to memorize the moment so she could relive it when he was out of her life.  Because that was inevitable, she knew it.  Yet right now, all she wanted was to have him inside her, for him to be with her in every possible way. If it didn't happen, her life simply would not be complete.

"Yeah, the one up at the house." He released her and put a possessive arm around her shoulders.  His next words made her scalp prickle.

"And the one I’m taking you on tomorrow," his lips touched her temple.  "Oh, and the one the next day."

Grace let out a breath.

"How do you know I’ll go on any more dates with you?"  She jabbed him in the side with her elbow.

"Something tells me we have a lot of dates in our future," he bumped her hip, knocking her aside a minute before grabbing her hand and dragging her up the steps behind him.  Grace observed his amazing plaid-covered ass once more, reflecting on the fact this time yesterday, she didn’t even know this man existed. Now, couldn’t imagine her life without him.

Chapter Three

Four Years Later

Ryan spun the thin platinum band around his left ring finger.  The plane was late and as it circled the small airport, he clamped down the urge to get up and pace.  For an expert frequent flier, he sure as hell wasn't a patient one.  This trip pissed him off anyway and he'd balked at the necessity of convincing some prima dona resort cook who managed to gain some publicity by winning a stupid Iron Chef reality TV show to come and open a restaurant.  The manager at the Aria had his heart set on this guy though, hence Ryan was dispatched to the South of France to fetch him.

Glancing down when the soft "ping" of his Skype indicator sounded on his laptop, Ryan shook his head at the latest missive from the big money investor for the Vegas resort.  It included a photo from the chef’s media kit. Jesus, a media kit?

"This guy is a former physical therapist or some shit who put himself through French cooking school giving massages."

Ryan glanced at the photo.  Long dark hair framed a noble, exotic face.

"Bet he gets his fair share of pussy, eh?"

Ryan grimaced.  What did that have to do with anything?

"You guys will get along great.  You can compare cocks man notes."

Ryan had to respond although he usually ignored this asshole.

"I bet I have more notches."

"I bet you do too.  Well, used to anyway.  This guy, Henri, he was married too, He has a kid but he's divorced."

Ryan sipped his drink and waited for the next missive.

"When are you gonna knock up that hot wife of yours anyway, Sully?"

Ryan rolled his eyes.  Nobody ever called him "Sully" except this blow hard.  As for "knocking up," well, he and Grace had an understanding about that.  No kids.  Ever.

"Not anytime soon.  I gotta go, plane's about to land."  He closed the chat window but not before he saw Grace’s icon appear in the corner.

"Hey."  He smiled at the thought of her.  Ryan never dreamed he’d be so lucky to find his perfect woman.  He repressed a shudder at the memory of how he very nearly screwed it up with his overwhelming need to take care of her. 

They’d been happy for the better part of the first year.  She kept her crappy apartment and insisted on staying there several nights a week.  While he respected her need for privacy, the more he was with her, the more he wanted her and not just her amazing body.  She could argue a college professor under the table on most any subject and was an incredible host for the various parties he threw for clients, either at his penthouse or off site.  The McGiver of Parties he called her given her ability to pull off a plated event for a hundred with three phone calls and a paper clip.

But, her stubborn insistence on never letting him pay for anything other than actual dates they went on started to rub him the wrong way.   And never having food in the house made him nuts.  Not that he expected her to stock his fridge and hers as well, he just kind of thought she might find his gourmet kitchen inviting enough to use.  But, Grace was an avowed non-cook and no amount of hinting or cajoling would change that.

Ryan recalled finding himself gazing at websites full of expensive platinum and diamond rings, which alarmed him. So, when the opportunity arose to travel to Prague to visit a potential new account, he packed himself up and sent her an email knowing damn good and well it wouldn't fly.

Short notice trip.  Prague. See you in a week or so.

He held out for three miserable days before calling.  Although Grace was nonchalant, he knew her well enough by now to know she was holding her temper.

"Ryan, what happened to my credit card balance?"

Sitting in an ornate, old world hotel in need of a serious face-lift nearly three thousand miles from her, Ryan could picture her pacing the floor as she spoke.  He ran a hand through his hair and confessed.

"I paid it."

"Why?"

"Because," He stopped.  What was her problem?  Any other woman on the planet would appreciate him erasing nearly ten thousand dollars worth of debt with the click of a button.   "I told you I wanted to help and…"

"How did you even know about it?"  Her voice was calm but Ryan knew better.

"Your laptop was open a few days ago, and it was on the screen and I, well, I just paid it alright? Jesus."

"I wish you hadn’t done that."

"In my defense, I told you debt wasn’t good for your credit score."

"You know what Ryan, just stop right there.  This isn’t about my credit score or the damn balance.  It’s about you trying to run my life."

"No, it isn't.  I just want to help.  It’s what I want to do for you, Grace.  Why won’t you let me?"

"Helping me and doing things I can do for myself are two different things.  Besides, you have no business on my computer."

"Look, I’ll be back in a few days."  Ryan remembered his next words distinctly.  "Maybe we just need some time apart.  I need some perspective."

"Fine. Goodbye, Ryan."

The hotel concierge found a Verizon dealer for Ryan the next day so he could replace the phone he’d smashed against the wall.

When he made it back to his condo, apologies on his lips, she was gone.  Every trace of her.  The messy bathroom clutter, her protein drink mix in the fridge. All of it was gone and Ryan fell into a funk at the thought that she was out of his life.  But, after a couple of bourbon’s worth of reflection he pulled open the desk drawer where he’d stashed a small blue box before he left.  The dazzle on the emerald and diamond ring hit him right in the optic nerve, too.  He loved her and he was going to prove it. 

No more fucking around.

Ryan called her agent, found out she was holed up in New York, with that tool of an editor who had a nasty little-boy crush on her, and dashed back to the airport in a matter of half an hour. 

****

"Hey," he answered back, his mind full of his wife’s beautiful eyes, her laugh, her body under his hands.  He shook the bad memories of his near miss with her away.    "Guess what; thinking about you just now made me hard."

"Pig."

"Maybe.  But all yours."

"I have a guess what, too..."

"That right?"

"Alice's pregnant."

Ryan’s throat constricted.  Alice was Grace’s younger sister, married about three years.  The two girls were as thick as thieves.  Luckily, Ryan folded right into the tight knit group of Grace, her sister, Trevor, Alice’s attorney spouse, and their dad, Joe.  Alice was a darker version of her older sister and had a smart mouth but Ryan liked her.

"Is that good?"

It took a while to get an answer and Ryan rubbed his eyes, unable to sort through how this conversation could possibly end well.

"It's what they wanted."

"Good for them then."

"Ok, well, I just thought I’d tell you.  Have a great time."

"Wait! How did it go today?  How were Matt and Katie?"

"It was nerve wracking and I’m glad it’s over."

"I’m pretty sure I set the DVR to record it but you never know with those damn things."

"Yeah, well, let’s talk later, k? I have to go down and meet some reporters before dinner."

"I love you, Grace."

"I know."

He'd have given a million of his dollars to be with her right now but instead he clicked the laptop shut, tucked it into his bag and sat back for landing knowing the whole "no baby" thing would eventually make its way back to the floor for discussion.  But Ryan was bound and determined to not screw up some poor kid with his shitty parenting.  It just wasn't an option and Grace would have to deal with it.

Chapter Four

The sun baked the few bodies still lazing by the salt-water pool as Ryan strolled by headed for the cabana-encased lounge.  Admiring the various female forms scattered between him and his destination, Ryan caught a few eyes and nodded.  He was no slouch and has dressed carefully in hopes of blending in and not seeming like the obvious American in this group of sophisticated tourists.  His cream linen shorts and soft blue silk shirt fluttered in the breeze as he stepped into the gloom under the striped canvas tent.

He took a seat at the bar and glanced around, which was full at four p.m. in Nice.  The sun was at its hottest and the interior here pleasantly cool.

"Monsieur?"  The drop dead, model gorgeous woman standing behind the bar put a napkin in front of him.

"Ah, yeah.  I’ll take a glass of Mortimer if you have it."  It was his favorite French beer, a frothy lager made from peat smoked whiskey malt.  The woman raised an admiring eyebrow and pulled a tap to fill his glass which he raised to her before taking a sip.  "Cheers."

Noting her eyes as they flickered over his shoulders then to the subtle silver colored band on his left hand, he set the glass down and smiled at her.

"I was told Henri Christophe was here."

"Oui," she jerked her chin to a spot behind him.  Ryan turned his head and was struck by the sight of the man he’d been studying from photos bent over the shoulders of a famous movie star, his hands working her neck as she let out little yips of pleasure and pain.  Ryan reddened. 
Jesus, it sounded like the woman was having an orgasm.

He finished his beer, put enough Euros on the bar to satisfy any bartender and stood.  The dark skinned young man looked up as if sensing his presence and his face broke into a wide grin.  Ryan grinned back as he made his way over to him.  The movie star stood, took in Ryan’s tall, blond, athletic form then turned and planted a kiss on Henri’s full lips.

"Darling, so lucky," she glanced over at Ryan who waited, hands in pockets.

"Oh please, he’s here to hire me or something, make me move to the godforsaken American desert, I don’t know."  Henri patted the woman’s ass as she strolled away and Ryan caught the lilt of South American in the man’s speech. But before he could introduce himself, a small body launched itself out of the shadows and into Henri’s arms.  The young man laughed and planted kisses all over the little girl’s face.  The little-girl version of the man he’d come to hire clambered up and down her father’s torso and he flipped her around, upside down, then up onto his shoulders before kissing both of her knees and turning to Ryan.

"So sorry, I don’t see my darling Renee much.  She's about to leave me again, going to back her her
maman
, eh my love."  He pulled the girl down and set her on the floor where she promptly stared at Ryan then held out a small hand.

"I'm Renee Christophe.  Please to have meeting to you."

Henri patted her head.  Kids made him nervous, always had.

"Lovely, my dear. The English nanny has come in handy after all."

Ryan took her hand.

"I'm Ryan Sullivan.  I'm here to see if your Papa will open a restaurant for me."  He looked up and caught Henri’s eye.  The man’s dark chocolate stare was intense.  Ryan took a step back, uncomfortable with the sudden rush of blood that flooded his face.