The Vegas Virgin

A Cowboys4Angels Tale

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction, names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious manner.

Permission to use image of Tommy granted by Cowboys4Angels

Cowboys4Angels is a registered trademark

For more information contact:

Riverdale Avenue Books

5676 Riverdale Avenue

Riverdale, NY 10471.

www.riverdaleavebooks.com

Cover by Insatiable Fantasy Designs Inc.

Digital ISBN 9781626011854

First Edition May 2015

“Happy Birthday to me,” Dora Franklin toasted herself with a glass of champagne on the balcony of the Aria and gazed out at the bright lights of the Las Vegas strip. She tried to muster up any feeling other than boredom and came up blank. She had just turned 38 today. Only two more years to the big 4-0.

“It’s just a number,” she told the sultry night air.

But it was a number that she had thought she would reach with certain life experiences. Her lips twisted in wry amusement. Backpack across Europe? Check. Hike the Grand Canyon? Check. Skydive out of an airplane? Check. Not that she’d ever do that again. Dora shuddered, remembering the utter loss of control on her way down. She had barely managed to get her shaking fingers to pull the parachute cord. It was supposed to have gotten better then. But instead of free falling, she was free floating. Dora shook her head. She didn’t like to be at the whim of fate and the winds.

Leaning over the balcony, she let the Nevada air wash over her. She liked being up this high with her feet firmly on the ground. That was the story of her life, actually—feet firmly on the ground.

After she had graduated high school as valedictorian, she had powered through college with a B.S. in poli sci. Then got her J.D. at Harvard. It had helped that her grandparents invested wisely in the stock market and passed their portfolios on to her. But Dora hadn’t sat back on her degrees and her money. She worked damned hard to become one of the finest—and most expensive divorce attorneys in the United States. Dora had celebrity clients and her name alone was usually enough for an out of court settlement.

But that didn’t leave a lot of time for dating. And when it did, Dora was always disappointed. Either the guy was too dull, too vain, too stupid, or just too inept. No one was ever good enough for Dora. She drained her champagne flute and went back to the bottle of 1990 Methuselah for another glass. If she was being honest, she’d admit that the problem was probably more her than anyone else. Somewhere along these years, she had gotten picky and set in her ways. And as she got older, her shit meter was full. She didn’t have the time nor the patience for online dating or the bar scene. So she was staring down a mid-life crisis with the dubious title of world’s oldest virgin, unless dire measures were taken.

The knock on her door jarred her and she splashed some of the $1800 champagne on her wrist.

“Shit,” she said, licking the liquid off her arm.

That would be her dire measures.

Eyeballing herself in the mirror as she passed, she smoothed down the Stella McCartney silk dress. She tangled fingers through her hair and blew out a sigh.

“Now or never,” she told her reflection.

On the other side of the door stood Tommy, exactly as he appeared on the Cowboys4Angels website. Immediately, his chiseled jaw, raw sexuality and rippling muscles caught her attention. Tommy was dressed in a charcoal suit that molded to his muscled body. Five o’clock shadow dusted his cheeks and strong jaw. When he smiled, Dora’s throat went dry.

It’s just a date.

“Come in,” she said in a voice huskier than she was used to. “I just want to touch up my make-up before we go to the party.”

“You look beautiful just as you are,” he said.

He stood too close to her as she struggled to reapply her lipstick. The heat of his body behind her made her fingers shake. His eyes met hers knowingly in the mirror.

I can’t do this.
Her eyes said.

What have you got to lose?
His said back.

Her virginity. With a sigh, Dora straightened up and turned to go. “Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

As they rode down from her penthouse room to the lobby where the limo was waiting, Dora struggled to make conversation. But she was relieved that Tommy just held her hand and stroked his thumb across her knuckles. It was nice not to have to try so hard for a change. It was also nice not to walk into her own birthday party—that she had thrown herself—alone. This would be the one time she wouldn’t have to field any pitying looks or answer any stupid questions on whether she was seeing anyone.

Of course, if anyone recognized Tommy from the website there would be different conversation and gossip. Dora looked at Tommy leaning up against the wall of the elevator looking like sex on two legs.

Fuck it. Let ’em talk.

When they got outside, Tommy opened the door to the limo and helped her inside. Her birthday party was at a private club just off the strip in a mansion she had rented out for the occasion. After giving the driver the directions, Dora closed the privacy partition and settled back in her seat. She caught her breath at Tommy’s nearness. He smelled like an ocean breeze and naughty promises.

Nuzzling her ear, he whispered, “What would you like for your birthday?”

Dora took a deep breath in. It shuddered on the way out as he pressed little kisses along her ear and neck.

“I want to come,” she whispered, wondering if she said too much and now was going to get “the speech” about legalities. Hell, she could probably recite the law back to him. She had made sure she’d read up on it before calling the agency. All she was paying for was a date to her swanky party. Of course, what happens behind closed doors—or in this case, a limo with tinted windows—between two consenting adults was no one else’s business.

Tilting her face towards his, Tommy smiled. “I’m going to ruin your lipstick.”

“Okay,” she managed to get out before his lips touched hers.

He started out sweetly, cajoling her mouth to open wider. Then, Tommy deepened the kiss, making sure each sweep of his tongue and lips tasted every inch of her mouth. It was so opposite end of all the fumbling, wet mistakes that her dates in the past had tried to plant on her that for a moment Dora stopped breathing.

God, what would that feel like between her legs?

She turned into him, sliding her hands under his jacket to caress the muscled plane of his back. He felt hard and sturdy under her fingers. Tommy cupped her breast, thumbing her nipple in a circular motion. Dora almost pulled back then, losing her nerve. But she couldn’t bear to break off the kiss. The sweet torture of the friction on her nipple made her arch closer and to her disappointment his hand left her breast.

At her moan of frustration, he gave a short chuckle. His hand shot up her dress and grabbed a handful of her lace panties.

“What?” Dora wrenched her lips away and looked up at him in shock.

“You won’t be needing these.”

As the limo slowed down to park, Dora let Tommy slide her underwear off.

“They’re soaked through anyways.” He grinned and stuffed them in his pocket.

Dazed, Dora just blinked at him. Her nipples jutted out through the silk of her dress. She was wet and needy. She had half of a mind to tell the driver to take another lap around the strip. Tommy’s hand paused on the door handle as if he sensed her thoughts. Raising an eyebrow, he gave her a wicked grin.

“After you,” she said, losing her nerve. She paid him to be arm candy, not to give her a screaming orgasm. It would be enough that she would be the envy of her friends. It was time to show him off.

Tommy helped her out of the car, so she didn’t flash anyone. Dora felt like she was in the Twilight Zone as she saw some of her co-workers and a few clients hanging outside the mansion.
Could they tell she wasn’t wearing panties?

She greeted a few of them with air kisses, making sure to keep hugs at a distance because her nipples were still very sensitive. There was a group shout of “happy birthday” and more rowdy welcomes when they came into the house.

Tommy brought her a glass of champagne and they mingled. She had hired a jazz band and they were playing soft and sultry music that ramped up her libido even more. Tommy swayed in time to the saxophone, not bothering to hide his arousal as he rubbed against her ass.

Dora wasn’t sure she had ever been this turned on. Tommy kept his hand on her belly with enough pressure so she could feel the slide of his hardness.

“I think jazz is sex set to music,” he said.

She knew she’d never be able to hear it again without thinking of him and this moment. “I didn’t expect you to be a poet. You have a way with words.”

“Thanks.”

Something in his tone made her look back at him. He ducked his head and gave a shy smile. Some of the tension loosened in her gut. She took his hand and led him through the house, talking with people. Dora was happy to see everyone was having a good time and it felt good to see the thumbs up her friends were giving her behind his back.

“Oh crap,” Dora said, catching the eye of the district attorney. Donovan St. John was overdressed for a Vegas party, keeping up his budding Senator persona.

His glass was paused halfway to his mouth and he was staring at them both with disbelief.

“What?” Tommy leaned down and asked her.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t invite that asshole,” Dora said, giving the D.A. a prim smile and nod. She had enough of his “why don’t you represent real clients?” attitude when they met in the courtroom. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Want me to ask him to leave?” Tension rippled down Tommy’s big frame and a part of her was tempted to see the two handsome alpha males butt antlers over her.

“Nope,” she shook her head. No sense starting trouble where there wasn’t any. “I want to avoid him. I’ll see him soon enough around the court house.” Luckily, their paths didn’t cross too often. When they did, it was full of awkward silences and Dora could practically feel Donovan judging her. All she needed was for him to catch her with a male escort. Was he licensed to practice in Las Vegas? Dora racked her brain, but she didn’t think so. New York and California, definitely, like her. But not around here.

Tommy looked over his shoulder. “I think he likes you. He doesn’t look too happy to see you here with me.”

Dora shook her head. “That’s his usual look. Let’s forget about him.”

Looking around, Dora realized she dragged Tommy into one of the guest bedrooms. “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t mean…That is, we should…”

Tommy locked the door. “You won’t be missed for a few minutes.”

Dora gave a snort. “As long as the booze is flowing, I won’t be missed at all.”

She tried to say it carefree, but her voice cracked at the end.

“I think you sell yourself short,” Tommy said, backing her towards the bed. “But I want you to forget all that now. I want to give you your birthday present.”

The back of Dora’s knees hit the bed and she sank down. “I don’t want you to think that I expect sex.”

With a light touch, Tommy pushed her back and then hauled up her sundress. “It’s good to expect the unexpected.”

“Whoa!” she cried, as the cold air against her very heated private parts reminded her of her panty-less state.

Tommy knelt at the end of the bed, placing her knees over his shoulders. “Happy birthday,” he said, before diving in.

“Um.” Dora was an attorney. Words were her livelihood. She used them to persuade and cajole, to win great battles and to humble opponents. Speechless, she could only grip the bedcover as the scruff from Tommy’s cheek hit her inner thigh.