Page 55 of Vegas Daddies

I try to kick free, but it’s useless. My legs don’t feel like my own.

“Get the fuck off me!”

Nothing. Not even an evil cackle.

Just silence.

Tears blur my vision.I catch a hazy strip of red metal, and one polished shoe that quickly moves out of eyeshot. My pulse drums the same quick rhythm as a tachycardia patients’, and I feel faint, like they’ve stuck a needle inside of me and are draining my body of oxygen.

Consciousness fades, rendering me hopeless as they throw me into the back of a car. Squinting up, I catch a slither of light. Two sets of eyes stare down at me, their faces both protected by the balaclavas. Ugh. If only I could find the energy to lunge forward, perform a surprise attack and tear the stupid masks from their faces to expose them to daylight—something they don’t seem too familiar with as nighttime attackers.

“Please.” My voice is tiny and sounds foreign. “Don’t.”

They continue staring.

“What do you want?”

Like I don’t already know. My father’s head on a spike is what they’re fucking after.

Maybe even mine too.

My breath runs away from me. Panic tears through my heart and sends it into overdrive. My lungs feel short of oxygen. Is this what a panic attack feels like?

“Please,” I beg one final time, my voice barely audible.

A gloved hand pulls the top of the trunk down.

And everything goes black.

14

LIFESAVER

I revmy Harley and curl around a bend at top speed. Wind whistles in my ears, and my beautiful bike sings my second favorite tune—itwasnumber one before Alice entered my life and took first place.

I could listen to her moans all day. Shove my AirPods in and stroke my dick all night thinking about her. God save my dick if my Harley and Alice ever join to perform a double act. That symphony would go down in history. Better than anything Beethoven composed.

God, did I mention putting together a video at some point while we’re fucking her? A semi grows in my pants at the thought. Don’t get me wrong, married and bonded to her for life gives me a lifetime’s worth of enjoyment with the woman…but a lifetime doesn’t feel like enough. I need two lifetimes. Three. I need to be buried in her pussy or mouth at all times—her hands if the other two are unavailable. Watching her body writhe with pleasure needs to be one of my five a day. We can save the video for times when we’re not able to see one another…which could quite possibly happen soon.

Enter Peter.

Half a fucking million people live in Las Vegas, and I’ll wager one quarter of those, at least, are fathers. Why Peter? Vegas is home to many dads, yet luck would have it that he happens to be the father of theonewoman I crave more than water.

I enter the highway into the city and cruise, overtaking cars until we’re filed into one single lane to prepare for ongoing roadwork.

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath as the road veers away. A diversion sign instructs me to turn off. I suppose I don’t have a great deal of choice in the matter, given that the road ahead is blocked.

I reduce my speed by more than half as I enter down a side alley that seems about as wide as a truck. A cruising ride into the city is what I needed—not this crap.

I came from the clubhouse where Match, Brander, and a few others were hanging out. Alto got his hands on some King of Denmark cigar, and I got bored watching them all pass the thing around, each taking turns to suck on the end like they were passing around some incredible cock. Fucking Alice as soon as her father left the room was bad form, so I think they needed a distraction.

And so did I.

That’s why I hopped on the bike.

Spotting an obstruction ahead, I slow my bike and squint. A car collision, perhaps? That’s no surprise. It seems strange that traffic management chose to divert vehicles downthisroad when other wider options were available nearby. Granted, it’s a quieter highway, the North Strip doesn’t accumulate as muchtraffic as roads like the Spaghetti Bowl, but still, choosing a different road could’ve prevented this very horrific-looking…

Nota collision.

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