Filthy Vows (Filthy Vows #1)(28)

“Never boring,” Easton reminded me as he helped me off the hood of the limo.

I smiled in response, then was pelted from the side as Chelsea tackled me in a perfume and beer-drenched hug.





Our suite was two master bedrooms. To avoid a Chelsea/Aaron sleeping arrangement, we’d put Chelsea and I in the left master, Aaron and Easton in the right. Between the two bedrooms was a sunken living room that boasted a sectional sofa, pool table, and fireplace. Our balcony overlooked the Strip and ran from one bedroom to the other. We didn’t, much to Chelsea’s chagrin, have a pool, though the website had shown one on the preview images when we’d booked the reservation.

I stepped into the suite and pulled off my shoes, feeling as if we’d been gone a week. Dropping my heels and my purse, I made it to the fridge and snatched a bottled water, trying not to think of its price as I broke the seal and chugged the water.

“I’m taking a shower,” Chelsea announced. “Dibs on the right side of the bed.”

“Let me run in there and use the bathroom really quick.” I set down the water and headed to the lavish bath that was open to our room. Sitting on the toilet, I looked longingly at the deep soaker tub. Tomorrow I’d have to take an hour and enjoy that. Maybe when they headed down to the casino again.

“I’m so freakin’ exhausted.” Chelsea walked past me and stared in the mirror, examining her ruined updo. “Good lord, no wonder that cop turned me down. How long has my hair been like this?”

I wiped, then flushed the toilet. “Not until jail.”

“Good.” She wrestled her hand behind her back, struggling for the top clasp. “Can you undo this? I swear, next time I get a wedding dress, it’s going to have a side zipper for easy access.”

I quickly washed my hands at the sink, then went to work on the back of her dress, my fingers popping each of the fabric-wrapped buttons out of their closures. Getting to the bottom, I tugged on her zipper and laughed when I saw the nude granny panties she had on under the dress. “I can’t believe you’re wearing those.”

“They’re my chastity belt,” she informed me, working the sleeves of the dress off. “To keep me from slutting it up. I wanted the focus to be on Aaron.”

“Yeah, I’m not quite sure you accomplished that goal,” I said dryly.

“Did he seem like he was thinking about Becca?” She winked at me.

I thought of that moment in the limo, the way he’d dropped his head back and sunk into the seat. In that private moment, yes. But for the most part, she was right. Her antics, and the city in general, had kept us all entertained.

“I’m going to tell E goodnight.” I gave her a hug. “Don’t snore too loudly tonight.”

I left her grumbling and climbing out of her dress. Heading back to the kitchen, I closed the bedroom door behind me and caught Easton coming in from the hall. “Any luck?”

He lifted a small white shopping bag. “Concierge had some floss. Toothpaste too.” He dropped the bag on the counter and glanced around the empty living room. “Everyone in bed?”

I watched one of his eyebrows cock and anticipated the suggestive grin, even before it spread over his lips. “I think they’re taking showers. At least, I know Chelsea is.”

He reached over and flipped the light switch by the door, the living room darkening. “How long do you think we have?”

I circled the pool table, coming around to his side of it and hoisting myself up and over its low edge. “Long enough.” I reclined back, my elbows resting on the felt. “Ever fucked on a pool table, Mr. North?” The chandelier above the table was lit, a spotlight illuminating me, and I preened in its glow, opening my knees up to him.

He stopped before me and took his time unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the clasp. “You know I have.”

I did. His fraternity house’s chapter room had held a beer-spattered version, much crappier than this one. Before it made it to the dumpster, he’d screwed a fraternity brother’s mom on it during Parent’s Weekend. “I’d like the full Easton North billiard experience,” I said softly, aware of our lack of privacy. “Assuming you can keep my voice down.”

“Don’t ask for something you don’t want.” He lifted his belt. “Open up, my filthy wife.”

I didn’t understand what he was referring to until his belt was at my mouth, the leather pushing flat against my tongue, my teeth digging into its edges. He cinched the belt tightly around my head and met my eyes. “Can you breathe?”

I nodded and tried to speak, my words muffled, the loss of speech strangely arousing. He leaned forward and put his mouth close to my ear. “Are you sure you want the full Easton North experience?”

I nodded and reached my foot out, rubbing it along the crotch of his slacks.

“Do you want me to fuck you like I fucked her?”

My affirmative cry was eaten by the leather, so I nodded again. Under the ball of my foot, his cock stiffened.

“It’ll be harder than you like.” He pulled at the spaghetti straps of my top, pulling the stretchy fabric down over my strapless bra. “I treated her like a whore and she loved it.” He bent forward, his five o’clock shadow scraping against my shoulder, and undid my bra, tossing it to the side. He grabbed one of my exposed breasts, and his eyes met mine. “Nod if you understand.”