Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series) (43 page)

“Baby,” he said, kissing me hard. I leaned against him, pushing my clean, wet body against his dirty one. He pressed himself up against me and I inhaled sharply, wanting him.

“Wait for me,” he said, looking at me with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Dry your hair while I take a shower. But don’t get your expectations up — we only have time for a quickie,” he said, devilishly.

“I’ll take what I can get,” I said, practically panting, watching him get into the shower.

He took the fastest shower ever while I dried my hair, and it was still too long. It’d been days since we’d been together, and my body physically craved him inside of me. He came up behind me at the vanity, a towel slung low around his waist, and he pressed himself against me and cupped my breasts. I heard the towel fall softly to the floor, and he put himself in between my legs.

“You’re wet,” he said, moving against me. I could see his reflection in the partially steamed-up mirror; looking at his defined pectoral muscles made my insides twist deliciously.
John.
I moved against him, my wetness covering his length, so that we moved against each other easily. My whole body was a jangle of nerves, a pang, wanting only one thing. He pulled my head back by the hair and licked and sucked my neck, all the while thrusting against me. I felt like I was going to explode already. But I needed him
in
me.

“Not here,” he said, and grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom.

It was dark out, now, and the whole city glittered beneath us. It was Vegas like I’d never seen it. I was removed from the heat, from the struggle of the everyday workers, from the smell of urine on the sidewalks. I couldn’t see the broken dreams from up here — just all that the city promised, beckoning with its electricity and opulence, like a mirage out here in the desert.

“Liberty,” John said. He laid back down on the bed, his penis erect and enormous. “Climb on top of me.”

I played with him, for a minute, rubbing him up against my clit, and then I slid down on him and took him in my mouth. I sucked on his length, moving up and down rhythmically, slowly, tantalizingly. “You’re going to make me come,” he said, as a warning. I ignored him and took all of him in my mouth then. His hips flexed and pressed into me, moaning, but then I sat up, breaking the rhythm.

“You
said
we only had time for a quickie,” I teased, and then straddled him. Little by little, I put him into me. It was excruciating, I wanted him so badly. And just when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I pressed all the way down on his exquisite length and we both cried out. He was all the way in me, and I could feel every rock hard, pulsing inch. I threw my head back and moaned. I started to ride him, slowly at first, feeling him writhe and moan beneath me, feeling the power I had over him. Feeling my power.

He grabbed my ass and moved me back and forth, grinding me against him. He lifted my hips up and thrust in and out of me until I started shaking. I threw my head back and moaned gutturally. I was so full of him, his cock felt so big this way, and I was riding him, and then he screamed my name, spasms wracking his body and mine, and I could feel him bursting inside me. I felt myself start to shatter. My body wrapped itself around him and convulsed in pleasure. Our orgasms shook the bed. I tried to think, tried to breathe, as the world fell to pieces and tried to rearrange itself again. The power of us together washed over me.

When my vision finally came back, I looked at the clock: it had taken all of three minutes for him to totally rock my world.

“You’re a pro,” I said, leaning down to kiss him. I slid off, shaky but definitely wanting more; I made myself move away from him. I had to: I had a flash in my mind of taking him in my mouth again, trying to get him hard again right away so I could ride him some more — there was still a pang between my legs, a desire and an excruciating emptiness, wanting him. If we’d had the time, I would have done it all night, every second of all night.

I wondered if I’d ever get enough.

He grabbed my ass and cupped it, lovingly, as I stood by the bed. “I love you so much,” he said, pulling me down to him. “I was so worried about you coming on assignment with us. But you’ve just been — I’m going to sound like you right now — so
awesome
. You amaze me.”

I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. The kiss was wetter, deeper, more full of longing than I’d intended; I made myself pull away. “I want you again,” I said, and I could hear the need in my voice; it was bordering on tears.

“Quickly,” John said, pulling me down next to him. He rolled on top of me and I could feel him spring to life against me. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed his ass and pulled him against me; I could feel his tip inside me, feeling my wetness, my need. I spread my legs and he flexed into me a little, but not enough. I squeezed his ass, and when he pulled his tip back out of me the next time, I parted my legs further and readied for him.

“I need you inside me,” I said, and when he went to enter me, I grabbed his ass and slammed him all the way up, to his hilt. “Oh my god,” I whimpered, because it was exactly what I wanted, but I was so full of him that it hurt, a wonderful hurt, a hurt that filled a yearning and I wanted to do again and again and again. “Fuck me,” I begged, and he slammed into me, over and over again, mercilessly, until all I could feel was his cock, him, taking me and taking me, pounding me, until I was mute, until I was breathless, until I was out of my mind.

I screamed his name again when I came, my body shaking with spasms. He collapsed on top of me afterwards, crushing me with his weight, and then we both started laughing.

“You are my addiction. I can’t get enough. We need to keep some serious space between each other,” John said. “I want you again. It’s unreal. And we have to eat. And go meet the guys in the lobby.”

“I know,” I said. “I just hope I don’t have to run or jump or do anything too athletic tonight. I’m shaking,” I said, and laughed.

Just then there was a knock at the door. John threw on one of the hotel robes and let in a waiter, delivering our room service, as I closed the door and hunted for something to wear. All I had were camouflage pants and a tight-fitting white tee-shirt; it wasn’t going to impress the girls, but at least I could blend into the trash in a dumpster if I needed to. I seriously hoped I didn’t need to.

“Pad Thai and spring rolls,” John said, shoveling some of each into his mouth and heading into the bedroom to get dressed. “Have a proper plate,” he called, “and drink some more water. You didn’t have enough over today.”

“Yes, sir,” I called obediently. He stuck his head out of the bedroom.

“I love it when you say that,” he said.

“I know, I know,” I said, and rolled my eyes. I took a plate and I filled it with Pad Thai, which I’d never tried before, and multiple spring rolls, which looked like an appetizer and therefore must be delicious. I’d never met an appetizer I didn’t like, and although most of my favorites were fried, I found the fresh spring rolls delicious — especially when dipped in the peanut-like sauce that accompanied them. By the time John came back out, in jeans and a
Treasure Chest
tee-shirt, I’d eaten four of them, so there were only two left.

“I take it you enjoyed the spring rolls?” he asked dryly.

“Mmm-hmmm,” I mumbled, through a full mouth. “They’re freaking delicious. And have what’s left of the Pad Thai. I think I have a new favorite food.” I kept shoveling the delicious noodles into my mouth as John laughed.

“I’m getting my own entrees from now on,” he said, grabbing what was left and taking it protectively onto his lap.

“You should,” I said, unable to stop myself from shoveling my food. “By the way, nice shirt. Where’ve you been hiding that?” He was wearing a
Treasure Chest
tee-shirt, complete with the outline of a naked dancer straddling an actual treasure chest.

John looked at me and actually blushed. It may have been the first time I’d seen him turn red, and that was saying something. “I bought it the first night I met you,” he mumbled. “Actually, I had Matthew buy it. I was worried I’d never get to see you again, and I wanted something to remember you by.”

Now it was my turn to blush. “That’s so sweet,” I said. “I thought you were totally hot, but totally crazy when we first met. I didn’t know whether to run after you or run away from you.”

“You should have run. Towards me, of course,” he said and laughed.

“So why’re you wearing the shirt tonight?”

“When in Rome,” John said and shrugged. “But maybe I’ll act as security tonight.” He checked his watch. “We have five minutes to make it to the lobby.”

“I love our five minutes,” I said, finally setting down my cleaned plate. “I love our suite. I just wish we weren’t here to do what we’re here to do.” It came out as a whisper.

John set his plate aside and came and kneeled at my feet. “I wish that, too,” he said. “In a perfect world, there wouldn’t be any trouble like this. There wouldn’t be any Darius, or any Cruz, or any bad blood between people.” He cupped my face in his hands. “But we didn’t make the world, Liberty,” he said. I shivered —
isn’t that almost exactly what Catherine had said to me?
“We have to live in it as it is,” he said. “We have a job to do.”

He looked into my eyes. “I don’t know why things are the way they are. I just know what I see, and what I’ve learned.” His eyes searched mine. “Do you know that I mean it? Do you believe me when I say that if I never had to harm another person, I would be happy?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, looking at him carefully. “I believe you,” I said, softly, “but I also believe that you enjoy what you do. At least, a
part
of what you do. You’re so good at it,” I said. “And if you’re that good at something, you must at least enjoy it a little.”

He looked up at me and nodded slowly. “I do,” he said. “I don’t want you to hate me for it, but I do.”

“I know,” I said, and ran my hands through his luxurious, thick hair. “And as much as I want you to stop, part of what’s so attractive about you is that you know what you’re doing. That you’re good at it,” I said, hating myself, wishing it weren’t true. But it
was.
It was like the ultimate sign of a successful adulthood: John knew what he wanted, he’d chosen it, and he was the best at it. No one would stand in his way. When he made a decision, when he moved in a direction, people didn’t doubt him. They followed him. I thought of Matthew, briefly; I believed that Matthew would follow John to the ends of the earth. So would I , for that matter. I trusted him innately, I trusted his good judgment and his ability to analyze all sorts of people and situations. I knew his temper, and I saw how he was almost always able to hold it in check — and how he used it when he needed to.

He was made for this.

Who am I to ask him to leave it behind?
I wondered, not for the first time in twenty four hours.

You’re going to be his wife,
my inner voice said, sounding just as sure of herself — and as annoyed with me — as usual.
You need to get this shit figured out.

I couldn’t believe it when we got there. It was exactly the same: the tacky fluorescent, flickering sign with a Treasure Chest opening and closing; the parking lot that smelled like beer and piss; the one-story building that was white stucco, cheap, and looked exactly like what it was. A place to forget the truth about who you were, to pretend you were someone else — while at the same time, giving into your more basic instincts. Showing off. Wanting.
Wishing.
Maybe it was more about the wishing, for both the workers and the patrons, than it was about anything else.

It was Vegas, after all. Everybody had a dream in Vegas. Even if it was just to forget who you really were for a little while.

If Adriana, the queen stripper here, could have heard my thoughts she would have laughed.
It’s a business,
she’d said to me when she’d trained me.
Forget about any human emotion. These guys just want a break from normal. They just want to look at something beautiful, watch something they can’t see everyday. It’s naughty. It’s about spending money and not having to mow the lawn or put the kids to bed first before you can get someone to grind on you.