It was kinky, like an animal leaving his mark, but God, it made her feel sexy. She’d certainly crossed several lines she’d drawn in the sand for herself, though he hadn’t spent the night yet. Vegas would be the first night they actually slept together.
After they boarded, he laid one hand on her ass to steer her to their seats. She’d worn her tightest jeans, and his hand molded to her flesh heated her through. He never missed an opportunity to touch her, but she had to admit, this one was particularly bold. What extra liberties would he take in Vegas?
He stowed their bags in the overhead bin, and once they were in the air, when the drinks were served, he ordered champagne for two. The glasses were plastic, and the champagne wasn’t the best, but it tickled her nose and made her giddy. She had never been on a trip with a man she wasn’t married to. This was somehow illicit and therefore all the more exciting.
Rand leaned in. “I have a goal to make sure we have sex at least six times and you have at least twice that many orgasms.”
His breath was sweet with champagne, and he set her pulse racing. She’d make him wild when she turned the tables on him with the scarves. Yet she did wonder how far he’d push her tonight. Sex in public. God, what if Vegas had orgy clubs? You see everything on TV, but who knew if any of it was true.
“Remember,” he said, tipping her chin to force her to meet his gaze. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. No one ever has to know what we do there.”
The hottest part of the flame was blue, and it was all blazing in his eyes.
Oh yeah, he was going to push her. Rachel wondered how far she would actually go for him.
EXCEPT FOR THE DOOR, THE ELEVATOR WAS A WALL OF MIRRORS ON
every side. Rachel couldn’t avoid seeing herself. Good God, she was practically naked, and Rand was taking her out like this into the Las Vegas nightlife.
The afternoon had been fun. He’d booked them into a hotel with a premium location on the Strip. After checking in and dropping their bags off in the room, they’d walked the crowded Las Vegas Boulevard. Rand set a brisk pace, wending through the throng with her hand tightly clasped in his. It was unusually windy, at least that’s what the concierge at the hotel had said, but it was fairly warm by San Francisco standards. They’d gambled a little in Monte Carlo, admired the butterflies in the Bellagio’s conservatory, sipped mochas outside a French café in Paris, taken a gondola ride along the Venetian’s Grand Canal. Then he’d made her ride the roller coaster at New York New York. Oh my God! She’d screamed her head off and enjoyed every moment.
Rachel couldn’t remember having that much fun since they’d taken the boys to Disneyland years ago. Come to think of it, Disneyland hadn’t been all that fun, because Nathan had gotten sunburned and Gary had been pissed because she’d forgotten the sunscreen.
Do not think of Gary
.
They’d had supper at the Rio’s seafood buffet. She was terrified of eating too much because Rand had yet to show her the
clothes he wanted her to wear. She didn’t want any bulges to show if he’d brought her something tight.
She needn’t have worried. He’d chosen a flirty black skirt that was short enough to be sexy, but not too short for a woman her age.
“You look fucking hot,” he murmured, holding her hand, looking at her in one of the elevator’s mirrored walls.
Thank God they were alone, because he made her actually look at herself as they descended the thirty floors. And really, it was a sight to behold. Rand stood slightly behind her, dressed all in black in stark contrast to his blond hair. He was mouthwatering in a button-down shirt and fitted slacks that were designed to hug and emphasize every delicious part of him. She felt petite beside him despite the shoes he’d bought her. She’d never had a pair like these—four-inch red spiked heels—not for Rachel the mother; these were for Rachel the hot, sexy lover he couldn’t get enough of.
“You can see my nipples,” she whispered, looking in the mirror, breathless, excited, nervous.
“Men will have to do a double take to notice.”
Which is exactly what he wanted them to do, she was sure. He’d bought the shoes to match the blouse, a lacy design of sheer red that didn’t effectively cover the strategic body parts beneath. It was the kind of garment meant to be worn over a camisole or at least with a bra. Rand had brought neither. Just the see-through red blouse. With every move, her bare flesh played peekaboo through the lace. If anyone looked closely, they would see her beaded nipples.
And what no one but she and Rand knew was that under the skirt, she was bare except for the black fishnet thigh-high stockings he’d bought for her.
RAND HADN’T BROUGHT PANTIES FOR HER. THE KNOWLEDGE GAVE
Rachel a sexy little rush. Standing at an angle beside her, he studied their reflection in the mirror as he raised a hand and lightly stroked her nipple with his palm. “There,” he murmured, his breath sweet against her ear, “if they look hard enough, a man will see those gorgeous nipples of yours.”
Rachel shivered in anticipation. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
He stepped back to survey her, arranging her hair to fall artfully over her shoulders. “I give you permission to return to the hotel room and change back into the shirt you had on.”
A T-shirt, nothing special; it simply made her feel sexy because of its tightness across her breasts. Did she want to wear that? Or could she handle something a little more risqué?
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
She wore dark red lipstick, making her lips plump and kissable. She wouldn’t spoil the look or the sexy red shoes with a T-shirt. “I’ll wear this.”
He laughed. “I knew you could be a naughty slut for me.”
She raised her brow and tipped her shoulder seductively. “Just watch out that I don’t choose someone over you.” She wasn’t going to let him do all the directing; she’d have her own fun, too, and keep him guessing.
He raised her hand to his lips as the door opened to a group of men, laughing loudly, shoving good-naturedly, and slightly worse for wear in the alcohol-consumption department. They let her step off the elevator first. There was a moment of complete silence, then one of them whispered, “Holy shit.” Another muttered, “I’d love to suck those titties.”
Rand winked at her, a gleam in his eye. It was starting. She felt a rush of power and turned. “Thank you, gentlemen.” Then, squeezing Rand’s arm and dropping her voice, she added, “Tonight it’s his turn.” She winked, just as Rand had. “But you boys can look for me tomorrow night. I’ll be around.” Looping her arm through Rand’s, she gave an exaggerated sway of her hips as she strolled away.
The elevator doors closed before any of the men even stepped inside.
“Tease,” Rand murmured.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Oh yeah.” As evidenced by the bulge in his slacks. The man had an impressive package, and while she displayed hers, he certainly garnered a few of his own double takes from the women as they left the elevator lobby. And from some of the men, too.
The casino was only slightly smoky, considering that smoking was allowed indoors, and alive with voices, laughter, the bells and whistles of the slot machines, even the electronic sound of coins dropping when someone cashed out. She still thought the old-fashioned arm you pulled and the clink of your winnings in the tray was more fun, but these days it was all push-button. She loved the penny slots, though, where you could throw in twenty
dollars and make it last two hours, which was about the same cost as a movie, popcorn, and a soda these days.
Rand led her down the center aisle, slowly heading to the front of the casino. “Let’s stroll,” he said. “I want to make sure everyone sees you.”
Despite the presence of the same kind of sweet, young, bikini-clad nymphets they’d seen that afternoon, Rachel was getting her own share of attention. The women stared to make sure they were actually seeing what they thought they were. The male gazes never made it to her face, fastening onto her nipples, eyes glazing over. It should have been degrading, yet it was Rand’s air of possession and his delight in the show that made her skin hot and her body wet.
She wasn’t Rachel Delaney, thirty-nine-year-old mother of two. She was sexy, seductive Rachel, ready for anything this hunky man had in mind. Vegas was a party town, and she could get away with being loose and wild.
“Men love to look at you. Do you like it?”
She tipped her head to lean lightly against his shoulder. “I never thought I’d love being ogled.” Because she’d never
been
ogled, and because everyone told you it was bad to be nothing more than a sex object. She was realizing that sometimes a woman
needed
to be a sex object.
Call her shallow, but it wasn’t the overweight drunk ones that gave her the glow. It was the occasional hot dark-haired young stud, or even the still-sexy gray-haired used-to-be stud.
Rand obviously loved displaying her. Would he actually try giving her to any of these men? She wouldn’t like that, but she loved his cocky, possessive smile.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they hit the marble lobby and he maneuvered them to the front doors. People were still checking in, even this late at night. Vegas certainly never slept.
“Patience,” he said. Outside, they queued for a cab. In less than five minutes, they were in the backseat. Rachel snuggled close, hanging on Rand’s arm like a besotted lover.
“Where to, sir?” the cabbie asked with a guttural German accent.
“The Bordello,” Rand answered.
The cabbie’s expression in the mirror said it all. Rachel saw both eyebrows go up, then he cocked his head and shot a smirk over his shoulder. The Bordello. It had to be something very interesting.
“What are you planning, honey bunch?” she asked in a coquettish voice, her lips almost against his cheek. She molded herself to his side and slid one foot up his leg until she crossed her knee over his.
“It’s a surprise, darling. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” Then he winked into the rearview mirror as if he were sharing a big secret with the cabdriver.
“I’ll take the backstreets to avoid the Strip traffic,” the cabbie offered.
“Perfect.” Then Rand ignored him, cuddling her closer. The show was already starting, and it was for their driver.
Rand undid another button on the see-through blouse and trailed a finger from her throat to her cleavage. “Very nice,” he said, his head down, inspecting her. He hitched her leg higher on his, and her skirt rode up to reveal more thigh. If he moved it just a little farther, their driver would see that she wasn’t wearing panties.
Stopped at a light, the cabbie adjusted the mirror down for a better view. Both she and Rand pretended not to notice. She held her breath, waiting for Rand’s next move, then said, “So tell me more about this bordello.”
The cab made the left turn as Rand caressed her thigh right up under the skirt, cupping her butt, squeezing her bare skin.
“It’s a couples’ club. Scantily clad waitresses, nude dancers, posh atmosphere.”
“Naked women doesn’t sound like a
couples’
club, honey bunch.” She pouted for him.
Removing his hand from beneath her skirt, he trailed along the outside of it, up the center buttons of the blouse, then rested his fingers along the underside of her breast, stroking her nipple with his thumb. She was sure the cabbie had seen far more explicit things, but to her, this was sexy and daring.
“Watching a bit of pole dancing and whispering dirty things in each other’s ears can whip up the erotic emotions, my dear.”
The cabbie nodded vigorously in agreement.
“It would be more helpful to me if the pole dancer was a man.” She pursed her lips, blew him a kiss. As Rand teased her through the blouse, Rachel decided it was only fair to tease him, too. She moved her leg, up, down, caressing him through his slacks. Something was definitely heating up down there. He paid her back by slipping right inside the blouse this time.
True to his word, the streets the cabdriver took were far less crowded. Rachel figured it gave them more time to play and him more time to watch.
“This is how it works,” Rand said, pinching her nipple.
Rachel moaned, loudly for the driver. “That’s definitely working, sweetie.”
“I’m talking about The Bordello. We watch the dancers, then I say I’d love to see you dip down like
that
, or I’d love for you to sit on my lap making
that
move.”
“Ah,” she said dramatically. “So we go elsewhere and act it all out.”
He smiled. “You’re starting to get the idea.”
“I certainly am. We’ll do a private pole dance later.”
The cabbie raised the rearview mirror to exchange a glance with Rand. “Something like that, my sweet,” Rand answered.
God. He didn’t expect her to pole dance for him in public, did he? The man had another thing coming, but she’d get into the rest of the game. Thank God this was all staying in Vegas.
Then, at last, they pulled up in front of an innocuous-looking building off the main Strip with small clothing boutiques and jewelry shops. The stores were open, but the sidewalks were far less crowded, and the patrons appeared to be dressed less casually than what you saw out on the main boulevard.
The cabbie double-parked, and Rand helped her out. Leaning into the window as he paid the man, they exchanged a few words and some manly laughter before the cab drove away. Rachel knew it was something rude. It was all part of the game.
A windowless establishment with a narrow brick facade and wooden, brass-handled door was sandwiched between a dress shop and a jewelry store. There were no identifying markings except a large
B
branded into the wood.
Rand knocked; the door opened. A burly man even taller than Rand looked them up and down. Rand handed him a business card, or it could have been a ticket. Bald, muscles bulging under his tuxedo, the man glanced at the card, handed it back, then held the door wide, flourishing a hand to indicate a set of stairs.
Rachel followed Rand in. She ascended the wide hardwood steps with one hand on the polished railing, the other through Rand’s arm, until they reached another door at the top, this one padded burgundy leather. Rand tugged the gold bellpull beside it.