Vegas Knights (8 page)

It was understandable, considering they were in a tight formation of cars, mostly tourists, she assumed.
He's probably just on guard for bad drivers
. Kelly leaned into him, pushing herself against his stiff back. She slid her hands under his coat and up his rippled abs in a most suggestive manner, but he didn't react. If anything, he grew even more tense.
 

The hot air whizzing past her reeked of exhaust, grime and something more base, almost animal. They were moving slowly enough now to get a clear view of the people on the street. They walked in little clusters, mostly families, with a bawling pink kid invariably clinging to the shoulder of one parent while the other tried to keep two more sunburnt brats in check. It had to be 95 degrees out, yet they were all wandering around outside in Bermuda shorts and tank tops, showing off the burns they received the day before while doing the same thing.

But lurking behind the daytime tourists, she spotted a darker element. These seemed content to linger between buildings, in the shade, out of the light. She never saw more than two or three together at a time, and one usually moved off rather quickly after a short conversation and a quick handshake.
But they're not really shaking hands; they're making a transaction
.

As they inched forward, the cool of the morning gave way to the heat of noon. She felt like a turkey wrapped in a roasting bag. She pressed her helmet mic. "So where are we headed, anyway?"

Rick pointed to some buildings in the distance. "See the tall one? That's home."

Most people were happy to return home, but Rick's voice sounded anything but thrilled. In fact, his body language and tone were downright miserable.

Kelly wanted to lighten his mood, if she could. "Well, we'd better get there soon or my button will pop."

"Huh?"

"You know, like those turkeys where the little button pops out when they're done? Ha ha, stick a fork in me, I'm done. Get it?"
 

Rick's head bobbed almost imperceptibly in front of her.
Yeah, good one, Kell
. At least her helmet hid the scarlet color she'd turned at telling such a lame joke.

The rest of the ride was spent in tense silence, but she only had to endure another few minutes of slow going before traffic started moving enough to create a cooling breeze. Rick expertly negotiated the streets of the city, finally pulling up in front of a tall, modern building.
 

The doorman approached as Rick climbed off the bike. "Mr. Knight. So good to have you back, sir."

"Thanks, Peter. Listen, do you mind keeping an eye on the old girl for a few minutes? I'll be right back down after I get my guest settled."

Kelly pulled off her helmet, sure she'd misunderstood what he said.
Did he just say he was leaving again right away?

"Of course, Mr. Knight." Turning to Kelly, he added, "And if the lady requires anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask."

Rick pulled Kelly's purse from the saddlebag and briskly walked her through the glass doors, a warm hand on her back pressing her forward. Kelly was confused. Why were they moving so fast? She barely had a chance to gawk up at the height of the glass building, or take in any of the surroundings before a blast of refrigerated air smacked her in the face and they were on an express elevator shooting skyward. Her stomach fell at the speed of the elevator.

"Wow, what's up with this thing?" she asked a stoic Rick.

"It's an express," he explained while staring at the numbers flashing above the doors. "It skips the first twenty floors."

At that moment, the elevator slowed dramatically, forcing Kelly's stomach into her throat. It continued at the more sedate pace for a minute or so before stopping, and dinging open. "Home sweet home," Rick mumbled as he guided her into a tiny landing with one door on either side. Turning left, he punched a keypad and swung the oak-paneled door inward.
 

"
Après vous
." He swept arm toward the apartment in what would have been a funny gesture if his handsome face hadn't been wearing a grim expression. Lines she didn't remember seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Without a word, she moved carefully into the room, her gaze flying from one corner to the another, taking it all in. The place was immense, and beautifully decorated, but it felt cold, uninhabited.
 

Rick swept past her, talking as he walked, and disappeared into a room. "Listen, I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of having my assistant order you a selection of clothes."
 

Peeking around the door, Kelly saw him drop her bag on a decadently wide bed covered in silk pillows. He pressed a button on an elegant glass side table and the black-out curtains spanning the wall-sized windows slowly buzzed to life, drawing back and allowing the desert sun to brighten the room. Kelly's jaw dropped

He glanced at her as he passed, pointing toward one side of the room. "They're in the closet. Don't feel obligated to wear them. I just knew you wouldn't have anything."
 

Kelly was touched at the gesture, but also confused by his constant motion. It was strange that this man who had been content to sit all day without moving for the last several days now couldn't stand still for a moment. He moved around the penthouse with the ease of an owner but it seemed as if he couldn't wait to leave. She hoped it was only the apartment he was in a hurry to leave.

"I have to run to the office for awhile but I'd like to take you out to a nice dinner tonight at Genoa." He was gathering up papers from a locked desk and stuffing them into a well-worn leather messenger bag. "Say eight?"

He didn't wait for a reply before brushing past her once again, this time heading for the door. "Sorry I can't stay. I wrote the key code to the door down by the computer. Make yourself at home, help yourself to anything you want and be sure to call Peter downstairs if you need anything, okay?"

With a small wave, he slammed the door behind him and was gone.

"Bye," Kelly whispered to the empty room.

~ * ~ * ~

She stood in the middle of the enormous living room, dejected. She'd had the idea that they would spend the day together and get settled in before he rushed off to work. Now she was faced with spending the day alone in a city she didn't know.
 

Shaking herself, she resolved to not wallow in self-pity. Rick had made it clear that he would be busy once he got to Vegas, and if she'd fantasized that things would be different that that, she had no one to blame but herself. She could spend her time feeling sorry for herself, or she could look at this as a grand adventure.
 

"And feeling sorry for myself isn't nearly as much fun," she said with conviction.

She couldn't quite talk herself into being happy at the turn of events, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying to find the joy in this trip. And the first thing that would add a little happiness to her day was a nice long shower. She had an idea whatever was going to greet her in the bathroom would be of a magnitude that would make all other showers she'd ever experienced seem like lawn sprinklers.
 

Passing through the bedroom, she couldn't help but sneak a peek into the closet to see what kind of taste Rick — or, rather, his assistant — had. What she saw left her breathless. First, it wasn't a closet so much as a small room, one that was about the size of her bathroom back home. Both sides were lined with two rows, top and bottom, of clothes of all styles. Facing the door was a full-length row of dresses and what looked like designer evening gowns. Shelves between each row housed at least a dozen pairs of shoes, from running shoes to the most uncomfortable-but-exquisite-looking pair of silver Manolo Blahniks. Her fingers grazed the strap of one, tingling at the rhinestones that pocked its length.
 

 
Kelly pulled herself free from the gravitational pull of the closet.
But all the pretty clothes
, a voice inside her head whined. "No," she told the voice. "We're going to take a shower and go exploring."

The light from the bedroom windows allowed her to gauge the scale of the bathroom as she searched for the light switch, but when her hand passed over an almost invisible panel and the room blazed into brightness, she was dumbfounded. The master bath was almost as large as her entire apartment. Granite countertops were speckled with actual fossils. A 10-foot square shower was situated next to the biggest bathtub she’d ever seen. Heated towel racks lined one wall. Two toilets sat side-by-side behind a glass block partition. This stumped her until she realized with a smack to the forehead that the funny looking one with all the knobs must be a bidet. She’d never seen one up close.

She turned a circle in the middle of the room, taking it all in. Then she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirrors that lined one wall. Her blond hair hung in sweaty clumps around her face, which was streaked with dirt. Her leathers hugged her large frame. Curious, she turned her back to the mirror and craned over her shoulder to see what her ass looked like in them. "Ugh. No wonder he left in a hurry."

Vowing to never look in those mirrors again, Kelly pulled open every drawer and cabinet until she found the toiletries and towels. She was no longer overheated since the apartment was nicely air conditioned, but she was certainly looking forward to spending some time out of the leathers. She shrugged out of her jacket and pulled her t-shirt over her head. The cool air made her nipples pebble. Invigorated, she peeled the pants off, then rolled the soggy — and rather ripe — wicking bottoms down her curvy thighs.
 

She couldn't help glancing at the mirror again, but this time she didn't wince. Instead she turned this way, then that way, appraising herself. She was a big girl, and no amount of dieting would ever change that. At six feet, she towered over most women and many men, and her full figure only added to her resemblance to Xena, Warrior Princess. But unlike Xena, she was a good 15 pounds over her ideal weight — a weight that many women would probably consider obese — but her breasts were perky, she had nice, soft curves, and her round ass stood out proudly from her body. She ran her hands down her damp skin, thinking it was a body a man could get lost in. In point of fact, he had.

She could almost understand why Rick was attracted to her. Almost.

Skimming her hands up and across her breasts, she caressed the tight tips. Feeling sexy despite the layer of grit coating her skin, she cocked out a hip, thrust her chest up and out, and ran her hands up to her hair. She was going for a classic Brigitte Bardot pose but when her fingers became entangled in her sweaty locks and she got a whiff of her armpits, the illusion shattered. "Yuck! Time for the shower."

Stepping into the tiled stall, Kelly discovered four nozzles situated vertically on all three sides, with a large showerhead centered above each of the three sets. The control knobs and buttons were far from self-explanatory, but after a few minutes of fiddling — and a few unexpected blasts of cold water in very unwelcome places — she figured out what each one controlled and had the glass door steamed over in no time.

Standing under the spray of the main showerheads washed away the filth that the weak showers in the grimy motels couldn't touch. The apricot scrub she found in a drawer pinked her skin while the coconut butter conditioner filled the room with a tropical scent.
The only way this could get any better is if Rick walked in right now
, she thought. She even swiped the fog from the door in the hopes he would appear. But, of course, he didn't. He'd rushed to the office as soon as they'd arrived, leaving her to fend for herself.

Kelly shook the pitiful thoughts away and started playing with the knobs. The nozzles came to life, shooting steaming spray onto her. She discovered that another knob set them moving up and down the length her body, giving her a mini-massage. "Mmmm," she sighed. That felt great, especially after three long days on a motorcycle.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back into the spray, rinsing the conditioner from her long hair while the jets worked her muscles loose. The steam made it impossible to see where the jets were coming from, so when a random stream of water hit one of her nipples, she jumped. Instead of being painful, it had actually felt quite nice, so she moved back to the same spot and let it work its way up and down her breast. She sucked in her breath at the sensation of water pulsing against one of her most sensitive spots.
 

This got her wondering what that pulse would feel like on her
most
sensitive spot, so she twisted her hips around until water was pounding up and down between her legs. Surprised by the direct pressure, which was a little painful, she gasped and pulled away, easing herself back around until the stream was massaging just to the side of her nub. It felt almost like Rick's tongue against her, working up and down.

The thought of Rick lapping at her brought a groan to her lips. She could almost see the top of his head moving between her legs, could see her fingers tangling themselves in his thick, dark hair. Her hips bucked forward into the jet as she imagined his tongue slipping inside her, his hands moving coarsely along the rest of her body.
 

When she was with Rick, she felt warm and safe, just as she felt in this shower. The air was thick with steam, forcing her to take short breaths. When the jet of water made direct contact with her clit, she shouted in surprise and pleasure, and planted a hand on the wall to steady herself, hitting yet another button.

Several steaming jets shot up from the floor, one directly between her legs. She cried out again and was overcome by sensation. Her mind went blank as stream upon stream of water pelted and pulsed against her most tender parts. She did her best to brace herself as her legs spread apart as if they had a will of their own. Streams of water moved across her body randomly. The jet from the wall continued to massage the front of her throbbing pussy as two tightly spaced jets from the floor pounded her clit and, a little farther back, her tight opening.