Page 61 of Vegas Heat

I touch my nuts, and then I stroke myself. “I can’t help it,” I say. “I’m fisting my cock now as I imagine your hot little mouth.”

“Mm,” she groans.

I hear a knock on the wall beside me. I guess Troy’s daughter’s back home. It takes me out of the moment for a beat, and Imove away from the wall and over to the desk chair just in case someone’s in the room next door.

“Take off your bra and touch your nipple,” I demand. “Pretend it’s my hands on your body.”

I hear some rustling through the line, and then a soft moan.

I love the sound of her moans. I love knowing that she can touch herself and imagine me doing it. I love that she can be so completely herself with me. I loveher. “Now finger yourself while I jerk off, and let me know how good it feels.”

“Oh, God, Cooper,” she moans. “I wish it was you. God, I wish you were here.”

“So do I, baby.” I fist my cock and squeeze the head before pumping the shaft. “So do I.” I pick up speed, listening to her soft sighs and moans as she does the same thing to herself, as we listen to each other move toward the brink of climax.

“Faster,” I say, and we both pick up the speed even more. “I’m close. Rub your clit for me.”

“Oh God!” she practically yells, the sound forcing my orgasm to wash over me way too soon. The white jets stream onto my hand as I think about her touching herself and picturing me.

I grunt through my climax as I listen for her moans through the line, and when we’re both finished and panting slightly, neither of us says anything for a few beats.

“Damn,” I eventually say, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I can’t wait to do that in person.”

“Neither can I. I need to go wash my hands. Are we still on for breakfast?”

“Absolutely. Let’s meet at Kings Diner at nine, okay?” she asks.

“I’ll see you then. Sweet dreams.”

“Same to you,” she says, and we end the call.

I sag back into the chair for a beat, but then I really do need to wash my hands.

The hangover that hits me in the morning is accompanied by slight regret, but I’m seeing Gabby for breakfast, and that’s enough of a motivator to get me out of bed.

Damn. I can’t drink like I used to.

I fumble my way over to the shower, and I feel a little better after breathing in the steam. If I don’t get a move on, I’m going to be late for breakfast.

I run a hand through my wet hair after my shower, grab a pair of athletic shorts and another Under Armour tee, and head down to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee before I run out the door to meet my girl.

When I get down to the kitchen, a young woman is bending down as she looks in the bottom drawer of the fridge, which I assume is the freezer. Her ass is sticking up in the air, and I assume this is Troy’s daughter. Out of respect for both my girlfriend who I’m meeting shortly and Troy, I glance away.

“Dad? Is that you?” she yells from its depths.

“No,” I say tentatively, my mouth dry from the hangover. “It’s your dad’s houseguest.”

She straightens and whirls around to look at the stranger in her kitchen, and when she does, she gasps as a hand moves to her chest. I suck in a sharp breath as a shot of disbelief darts through my chest.

My wide eyes meet her even wider eyes.

“What are you doing here?” we say at the exact same time.

“Oh good, you two have met,” Troy says as he saunters into the room. “Cooper, this is my daughter, Gabriella.”

Oh fuck.

This has to be some sort of joke…or some sort of nightmare.

It can’t be true.

Gabby is Troy’s daughter?

TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 2, FASTBALL.

---