The VIP Room(82)

“Seven eighty-five.”

“Room seven eighty-five moved to my penthouse. Ask Melissa to take care of putting them away.” He hung up and began tapping out a text. I stood there beside him, feeling a little foolish.

My skin still tingled, my * pulsed with need, and a glance in the shiny brass walls of the elevator told me it was obvious what we’d been doing. Dylan was completely fine, cool as can be, giving orders and rearranging my life to suit him—but wasn’t that what I’d agreed to?

I guess it was. If we were going to be together all weekend, it made sense to share a room.

He finished his text and put the phone away, saying nothing. I shifted in my heels, the heat between my legs suddenly cold, the damp uncomfortable. Dylan stood beside me, watching the numbers change above the elevator door.

For all the attention he gave me, I might as well have been alone. Awkward didn’t begin to cover it. Maybe I was making a mistake.

Not maybe. Definitely. I wasn’t exactly brimming over with fantastic choices where men were concerned. Looking at it that way, what was one more? At least Dylan could kiss, which was more than I could say for some of the other men I’d chosen. Still, he was pretty much a stranger, and I’d been crawling all over him in his office.

At the thought of my eagerness, I felt my cheeks heat again. Did any other woman Dylan dated blush at the thought of making out with him? I doubted it.

Then again, we weren’t really dating. When the wedding was over, I’d go back to my boring life, and I’d never see Dylan again. I might as well make the most of it.

I was so lost in my thoughts; I didn’t notice the elevator had stopped until the doors slid open. Dylan’s hand closed over my elbow, leading me into the main floor of the casino. I’d only arrived at the Delecta for the first time a few hours before, and I didn’t have my bearings. I thought the restaurant was directly opposite the elevators we’d used.

At first, that’s where Dylan led me. Then he veered abruptly to our right, pulling me down a long row of flashing slot machines, past a bar, behind a potted palm tree and halfway down a dim, carpeted hallway. He stopped exactly between two nondescript metal doors, completely out of sight of the busy casino floor.

What were we doing back here? My brain couldn’t catch up. Dylan’s long body pressed close, pinning me to the wall. His leg pushed between mine, spreading my thighs and sliding my skirt up my legs.

I opened my mouth to speak, and he covered it with his, his tongue sliding between my open lips, his breath hot on my skin. Just like that, the heat was back.

One hand found the hem of my dress, inching it upwards, reaching around to squeeze my ass before slipping between my legs, into my panties. At the graze of his fingertips along my still wet *, I moaned into his mouth.

“Shhh,” he said, breaking our kiss. “No camera here. Not if we don’t move. But you don’t want anyone to hear you, to come see us, do you?”

I moaned again. I didn’t. I really didn’t. Did I? No. Now that he’d said something, though, I thought I felt eyes out there, crawling over us. Watching. I shivered, partly from the thought of a stranger watching us kiss, seeing Dylan’s hand up my dress.

His hand was doing more than coasting along my fevered skin. He dipped two fingertips inside, soaking them in my aroused heat before pulling them back and circling my clit. More shivers. His touch was light, teasing me with pleasure, but it sent sparks of need through every cell. I ached to move, to moan and beg.

Dimly aware that we were only a few yards from the bustling floor of the casino, I did my best to stay still and silent. Tiny whimpers spilled from my lips.

“Shhh. This will have to be quick,” Dylan breathed into my ear. “I thought I could wait until after dinner, but I can’t. I want to see you come now.”

He pushed two long fingers deep into my wet * in one hard thrust, stretching me in a brilliant flare of pleasure. His two fingers were bigger than any cock I’d taken before. He would split me open when he finally got inside me. I’d felt him when we were kissing before. Sex with Dylan would be in a class by itself.

Just this, his fingers inside me, the heel of his palm grinding my clit as I thrust my hips against him, was the best sex I’d ever had and it wasn’t even sex.

The orgasm hit me in a rush, splintering through me as he muffled my moans with his mouth. He played with me, thrusting his fingers, circling his palm on my clit, drawing it out until my knees wobbled and my moans faded into panting breaths.

I’d never come that fast in my life. Granted, I’d been primed from our kiss in his office, but orgasm was never a guarantee for me, even when I was alone. Every muscle in my legs shook, and I was glad the wall was there to hold me up.

His hard cock pressed into my hip, reminding me that I’d been completely passive, allowing him to do as he pleased, but offering nothing back. Before I could think better of it, I sank to my knees, reaching for his belt.

Dylan’s fingers slipped from between my legs. He touched my face with his other hand. Maybe he wanted to stop me. I didn’t care. I knew I was supposed to let him lead, but I wanted to give him something back. I wanted his cock.

His fingers had been amazing. Fantastic. Better than I could have imagined. But I wanted to touch him. I wanted him in my mouth.

My fingers fumbled as I opened his belt. I ignored the whisper of my name above me, pushed away the faint sounds of the slot machines filtering down the hall. His hard length pressed against his zipper, waiting for me to release him.