Page 30 of The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

“Never,” I say, and shrug off my unbuttoned shirt. I pull out my wallet from my pants and toss it on the desk, making a mental note to remember where I left it. That’s where my condoms are.

“You’re so tall,” she says.

“You like it.”

“I really do.” She nods in appreciation, and I kick out the legs of the desk chair, strip my pants off, and sit.

I’m hard, straining at the ceiling, and Sophia looks at my cock like she’s hungry.

Fuck, I can barely wait to slide inside her.

I pull her toward me and she sits astride, so we’re facing each other.

“Now we’re the same height,” I say, cupping her face. “Almost.”

Her fingers thread into my hair and we kiss. I pull her closer still, so she slots against me, the lace of her underwear the only barrier between us. Her nipples scrape against my chest and her hips sway on my lap, grinding closer and closer, and it’s so fucking good, I can barely stand it.

Sophia’s right—being together feels freeing. In my previous relationships, I felt stifled and caged in, but I’m married to the woman on my lap and I’ve never felt so light and liberated.

She stills and pulls back. “Promise me one thing, Worth.”

“Anything.” Blood is pounding in my veins like it’s trying to set an Olympic record, my heart is clattering against my chest, and my dick is so hard I’m not sure I’ll survive putting the condom on.

“No lies. This might be over tomorrow or next week or never. We might stay together, raise kids, and grow old together. But no matter what happens, don’t ever lie to me.”

“I promise,” I say. “I’m going to take care of your heart, Sophia.” Gazing into her eyes, I realize they aren’t just blue, but have purple flecks that look like flowers unfurling under the sun’s heat. I know we’re not going to be over tomorrow. Or next week. The more I get to know this woman, the more I’m going to fall for her.

She takes my palm and presses it over her panties. They’re soaked through. It calms me to think she’s been waiting for this moment too, thinking about it, fantasizing about it.

I can’t do anything but grunt in appreciation. I want to feel that wetness on my tongue, around my dick, down my chin.

“They need to come off,” I hiss.

I’m dizzy with need for her. I want to fuck her so hard she won’t stand for a week, and I want to take my time, smoothing my hands over her body, placing chaste kisses to every dip and curve of her. I want it all.

I can’t remember ever wanting anyone or anything in the way that I want Sophia right now. So much of my life has been about avoiding disaster, I don’t think I’ve ever let myself get pulled in by someone this way. I want her to the exclusion of all else—and this tunnel vision means I’m not looking out for potential problems on the horizon. Right now, the world could burn for all I care.

She stands and shimmies off her underwear.

I hold out my hand. “I’ll take those,” I say.

“My underwear?”

I nod. I toss them on the desk. Then I clamp my hand around my cock and pull it up and over my crown. “Come sit,” I say.

She bites down on her lip and her mouth flushes red.

I shake my head slowly. “I’ll be gentle,” I say.

“You might break me in half.”

“I’ll go slow,” I say.

Her eyelids flutter, like she’s imagining what I might feel like filling her up. My heartbeat pounds in my ears:now, now, now.

I have to work backwards tonight. I need to fuck. I need to come. We both need that. Then I can lick and suck and bite and we can do it all over.

“Do you have a condom that will fit?” she asks, her expression genuinely worried.

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