Sinful Desires Vol. 3 (7 page)

“For you,” he said as he stepped inside.

That seemed like a pretty obvious thing to say, but I wasn't going to argue. I stretched up to kiss his cheek and then went into the kitchen to find something big enough to hold all of the flowers.

“Next time, I'll make sure I get a vase too,” Brock said as he looked at the table where my other flowers were sitting in the only vases Rosa and I owned.

I came out with a water pitcher. “That might be a good idea.” I smiled. “They're beautiful. All of them. Thank you so much.”

“Well, I owed you a big apology. Astronomical, I believe was the word Julien used.”

“Julien?” I couldn't hide my surprise.

“Yeah, when we got back to the hotel the other night, he proceeded to lecture me for about twenty minutes about what an idiot I was and how, if I didn't fix things, I was going to fuck up the best thing that had ever happened to me.” Brock stuck his hands into his pants pockets and gave me a sheepish grin. “So, again, I'm sorry.”

I nodded as I fussed with the flowers until I was sure I could speak normally. Brock's additional apology, along with his repeating of what Julien had said had gotten me flustered.

“What's done is done,” I said. “Apology accepted.”

Brock beamed. “Great!” He held out his hand. “Let's go.”

“Go where?” I asked as I took his hand.

“It's a surprise.”

Considering Brock's last great idea, a surprise made me a little nervous. My face must have expressed every emotion I possessed because he laughed and held out his hand, saying, “Trust me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him in mock disbelief but didn't press the issue. If I'd truly forgiven him, I needed to try to trust him. This wouldn't work if I couldn't do that.

Several minutes later, a taxi dropped us off at the Venetian. As we walked toward Empirio D'Gondola, I may or may not have squealed. Whatever sound I made, Brock laughed and kissed the back of my hand.

“I'm guessing that means you like my surprise?” he asked.

I nodded. “I've always wanted to ride them, but never had the extra money.”

“Well, tonight, money is no object.” He paid for a private ride for just the two of us and helped me onto the gondola. I settled in against his side and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I didn't mind that it was almost too hot for the contact to be comfortable, I was too enthralled with the setting.

The gondolier started off and I stared at the Grand Canal Shoppes as we passed. The water was smooth and a much clearer blue than I'd expected. The buildings around us were all fabulous. I'd seen them from far away, but unlike some of the Vegas attractions, they maintained their beauty up close.

The trip was only a quarter of an hour, but I quickly decided it was the best date I'd ever been on. When we left, I leaned against Brock, my arm around his waist. I was right. I so desperately wanted to be right. He may have been that womanizing kind of guy in the past, but he didn't want to be that way anymore.

I hadn't realized we were heading somewhere specific until Brock stopped and we were in front of Lake Como at the Bellagio. He brushed back a few strands of hair that had come free and asked, “Have you seen the dancing fountains?”

I nodded. “A couple of times, it’s been awhile.”

“Well, you can actually see them over and over again without seeing the exact same thing twice.” Brock gestured towards the water as a Debussy piece began to play.

He fell silent then as we both listened and watched as the jets of water shot into the air. Debussy gave way to Andrew Lloyd Webber, then another classical piece that I thought might be Chopin began. The entire experience was lovely… the music, the majestic fountain, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand. We laughed and made small talk, completely at ease with each other.

I remembered how, when we'd gone on our first true date to Love Park, there had been these long periods of silence between us and how comfortable it had seemed. Perhaps that's what Brock needed, to get away from the fancy dining and all of the things that he'd become used to over the years. Keeping things simple seemed to transform him into the guy I cared about.

“This was a wonderful date,” I said as the third song faded.

Brock cleared his throat and looked down at me, his expression nervous. “I was hoping we could maybe go back to your place. I didn't get to see much of the apartment when I was there earlier.”

I raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he was hinting at and feeling my body respond. “The only rooms you missed were the bathroom and the two bedrooms.”

“Well, see, there's the most exciting part.” That charming smile was back, the one that had convinced me to give him a chance in the first place.

“My roommate's bedroom?” I teased.

We started to walk away, enjoying the easy banter before finally hailing a cab to take us back to my apartment. As we rode, Brock's hand settled on the nape of my neck, his fingers gently massaging the tense muscles there. I closed my eyes and let my head fall forward. Only biting my lip kept me from moaning.

“Your entire neck is knotted up,” Brock said as his strong fingers worked at the knots. It was; I could feel it and a long, drawn out moan drew a laugh from him. He kept rubbing and as the tension eased away, it was replaced by a heat that spread down through me. I'd been pretty sure we'd end up in bed from the moment I'd forgiven him. Then when he'd asked about coming back to the apartment, I was sure of it.

By the time the cab pulled up in front of the building, my panties were damp and I was writhing in my seat. Not that I was going to tell him that. He needed to work a bit for it.

The smell of roses greeted us as soon as we came inside. I kicked off my sandals and Brock took off his shoes. I didn't care about the ugly beige carpet, but it was always easier to get completely undressed without shoes.

“Should I bring rose petals to sprinkle on the bed?” Brock broke the silence, his eyes twinkling.

I rolled my eyes and took his hand. “Come on, we need to get this full tour over with.” I gestured with my free hand. “Kitchen slash dining room slash living room.” We headed down the hallway. “Bathroom, my room, and the one you're the most interested in, Rosa's room.”

I let out a yelp of surprise as Brock scooped me up in his arms and pushed open the door to my room.

“Wrong room,” I laughed. “I thought you wanted to see Rosa's room.”

He took two steps and dropped me onto my twin-sized bed. I looked up at him and, for the first time, wondered how we were both going to fit on the bed. Then his shirt was coming off and I didn't care if our feet hung off the end. I wanted him.

I scrambled out of my clothes as he finished undressing, tossing my panties and bra onto the floor while he watched. His eyes were dark with desire as he crawled onto the bed.

“I've been thinking about this all day. You, naked, spread out for me.” He leaned his body over mine, his cock hard and hot against my hip. He pressed his mouth against the side of my neck, lips and teeth worrying at the skin there until I knew he'd leave a mark. I'd need to make sure I covered it tomorrow before work. One hand held his balance as the other went to my breast. His fingers played with my nipple until it was a point and the skin was tingling. When he moved his head lower and took the hardened flesh into his mouth, I moaned.

I closed my eyes, giving myself over to the hot suction of his mouth. His hand slid over my ribcage and down between my legs. I cried out as he pushed one finger inside me and then another. I was wet, but still tight enough that it didn't move easily. After a few strokes, I began to move against his hand, wanting friction a little higher. Instead, he pushed himself up off of me.

“Condom?” he asked.

I blinked, trying to clear away some of the fog. I pointed toward the table next to my bed. He opened the top drawer, tore the wrapper and rolled the condom on without a word. It wasn't until he was spreading my legs apart and settling between them that he spoke.

“You're gorgeous like this, you know.” He bent his head and flicked his tongue over one nipple, then the other. “Nipples hard, face flushed.”

He reached between us and the head of his cock nudged against my entrance. I told my body to relax, but there was still a pinch of pain as he plunged inside. There hadn't been nearly enough foreplay and, as he continued to push forward, I slid my hand between us, my fingers finding my clit and beginning to rub. The familiar circular motion helped me relax and allowed my body to stretch to accommodate him.

“Your cunt is so tight.” He groan as he bottomed out. “Feels so good around my cock.”

Before I was ready, he started to move and I gasped, my free hand grabbing onto his arm. “Wait, wait.”

He made an impatient sound, but did as I asked. My fingers worked over my clit until I began to feel heat spreading through me and then I nodded. He drew back and then thrust forward, drawing a half-moan from me. Another half dozen strokes and he moved to his knees, his hands grasping my hips. This time, when he drove into me, I was open and ready. There was no pain, just the pleasurable rubbing of him against me, filling me, adding to the electric sensations coming from where my fingers were still playing over that swollen bundle of nerves. I'd gotten a later start and knew it would be a little while longer before I was at the edge, but I could already see Brock's climax approaching.

“Slow down,” I said. “I'm not there yet.”

His pace didn't lessen. He leaned over me, putting his hands on either side of my waist and the change in position pressed his pelvic bone against where my fingers had been moments before. My eyelids fluttered as my body flooded with pleasure. That was what I needed. Every time he surged forward, he hit that spot just right and sent a jolt through me.

Just as I'd started to feel the pressure inside me building, Brock's hips jerked against me and he let out a sound that was half-way between a groan and a grunt. He slumped over me for a moment and I looked up at him, surprised. My pussy throbbed as he slid out of me and rolled onto his back. My entire body was tense with build-up, my teeth gritted with frustration.

Brock tipped his head to look at me. “Damn that was good.”

My eyebrows went up. Was he serious? I wasn't stupid enough to think that every encounter was going to be good, but he hadn't even made an effort to make sure I got off.

“Did you come?” he asked, almost as an afterthought. When I didn't say anything, he gave me a sheepish smile. “I'd like to watch you finish.”

If my body hadn't been screaming for release, I might've told him to go to hell, and as it was I was seriously considering it. Instead, I leaned back, closed my eyes and slid my hand down between my legs. It didn't take much, just a few minutes of attention and my muscles tightened.

With my climax came physical pleasure, but there was something missing. Even though I'd had sex with Brock and he was still right there, I felt the same way I did after masturbating alone. I opened my eyes and saw Brock watching me.

“That was fucking hot.” He ran his finger down my arm. “You want me to stay? Give me an hour and I'll be ready for another round.”

I sat up and shook my head, suddenly annoyed. “I have to work tomorrow. Double shift.” That much was true, but it wasn't the real reason I didn't want him to stay. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” Brock said. He stood and began gathering his clothes. “So that means I'll see you Friday?”

I nodded and stood as well. I smiled up at him and he leaned down to kiss me. It was a good, thorough kiss, leaving my knees trembling. His hand cupped my face and he was looking at me so tenderly.

“Text me on your breaks?” Brock asked as he tucked hair behind my ear.

“I will.”

I walked him to the door where he gave me another kiss, another one that nearly melted my knees. Where was this man ten minutes ago? The one kissing me so passionately, so thoroughly, taking his time?

After he left, I headed for the shower to think about what had happened. I didn't exactly have a lot of experience with guys and I knew from my experience with my ex-boyfriend that it wasn't exactly uncommon for the guy to orgasm before the girl, but at least Luc had been concerned about whether or not I'd come. I'd lied to him, not wanting him to feel bad that he'd never been able to make me climax, but considering how attentive Brock had been before, I honestly thought he'd take care of me with his fingers or mouth, especially considering how little foreplay I'd gotten.

He said he'd been thinking about me all day, I reasoned as I stepped under the hot spray. Maybe he'd been embarrassed that he'd come so quickly, or maybe he'd really just wanted to watch me do it myself? I sighed, once again at war with myself and the feelings I had toward this man. Could I really judge him based on one lukewarm sexual encounter? Was that really a good reason to be annoyed with him?

I frowned as I squirted some floral-scented shampoo into my hand and then began to work it through my hair. No, I decided, that wasn't why I was annoyed. Sex with Luc had been mediocre at best, but it hadn't really affected how I'd felt about him. It was that feeling I'd had just after I'd come tonight, I realized. That lack of connection. I liked Brock, but there hadn't been any of that spark between us. What I didn't know was if it had been that way before and I just hadn't noticed because at least then, the sex had been good. Was it possible that we hadn't truly connected any of the other times we'd slept together and I’d only been fooling myself?

I rinsed my hair and then reached for my conditioner. The question was, did a connection like that really matter? Reed and I had a connection from the first moment we'd touched. A lot of good that had done us. At least with Brock, I knew who he really was, and the connection would come with time. When like turned into love, we'd have I; I was sure of it, but for that to happen, things couldn't keep going the way they were now. Something had to change.

Chapter 9

I
didn't really have the money to spend on fancy food, but I managed to find room in my budget to make a lasagna from my mom's recipe. A loaf of Italian bread and a bottle of cheap wine, and I was going to be eating Ramen noodles for a while. Still, it meant I could have Brock and Julien over for a home-cooked meal on their last night in Vegas, and I was looking forward to it. I owed Julien a thank you for sticking up for me after the strip club incident, and I wanted to make sure Brock knew I wasn't angry about how things had ended up the other night.