The group filtered out the Bellagio’s doors, piling into cars that would take them to the Flamingo where my assistant had booked their rooms. “Incredible job today, everyone!” I called, drunkenly shaking hands with the few who were paying attention. “Enjoy your evenings and I’ll see you all tomorrow evening for dinner.”
I checked my watch — only just barely past midnight. The night was still young on Vegas time.
A flash of chestnut hair and a tight black dress caught my eye. Olivia stepped through the revolving door behind the last three employees, her cheeks pink and her footsteps slightly uncoordinated. Her mouth parted and her eyes glossy, she locked gazes with a driver.
I moved before I’d even decided to.
Before she could grab his full attention, I caught her by the wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?” She blinked as I pulled her back to me, her balance tipping before she caught herself on my chest.
Her eyes searched mine for something, but whatever it was, she didn’t say. “The Flamingo,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I narrowed my gaze at her. Is she really this dense or is it just the alcohol? “You’re not going to the fucking Flamingo just yet,” I mumbled. Instinctually, I released her wrist, hoping that her stumble and my insistence didn’t come across as anything more than a helping hand to whoever from the office was watching us. I didn’t know what had gotten into me over the past week, but there was something about her, something that was so Goddamn tempting, that made me lose all sense when she looked at me. It had only amplified with her presence here, and even more when I’d let myself hold her upstairs.
And that fucking kiss.
I needed more, but suggesting she marry me for it was probably not the brightest idea or the best way to get what I wanted, even if it would kill two birds with one stone. I’d said it in the heat of the moment, my mind drunk on the idea of burying myself inside of her. I still was, but in the fresh air with the effects of too many drinks starting to wear off little by little, the error of my insistence was blinding.
I wasn’t even sure if she remembered what I’d said, but I wouldn’t have felt right without saying something. “I’m sorry about what I said upstairs. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
She shook her head and covered her lips, a little giggle breaking through. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone offer to marry me on the spot just to sleep with me,” she said. The blush across her cheeks spread further and deepened. She looked so small, so fucking bendable. “It’s okay. It was, uh, flattering, I think?”
I wondered if she’d think the positions I’d been imagining her in for days were flattering.
“So… if I’m not going to the Flamingo yet, then what am I doing?” She blinked, the alcohol still thick on her breath as she watched the last employee be driven away. I pulled her to me the moment they were out of eyeshot. “And don’t you dare say you.”
“We’re in Vegas, and the night is young,” I grinned. “I figured we could spend a little more time together out on the town.”
The wind kicked up, forcing her hair over one shoulder as she laughed. “You’re like… twice my age, grandpa. How are you awake enough to keep going?”
“I’m not nearly old enough to be your grandfather. Maybe your dad, at best.”
“My dad, huh?” she grinned, her tongue dragging along the edge of her top teeth as I pulled her toward the waiting car I’d ordered. “Should I call you daddy then?”
The idea of that was almost sobering enough to give me pause, but I hauled her into the backseat with me anyway. If she was going to be the death of me this evening, I’d go willingly with whatever she’d give me.
————
No loud parties. No clubs.
Those were her only requests if we were going to keep going into the night, and I was more than happy to oblige — so on the 64th floor of the Delano, out in the open air in their rooftop bar, we truly began our evening.
Overlooking the entirety of the strip, she leaned against the railing, her hair blowing over her shoulders in the warm, early-summer breeze. I almost regretted saying anything about the wardrobe malfunction in my email — at least then she might have worn something slightly more revealing, leaving me more skin to sink my teeth into.
“You’re different around them,” she said, her fingers ghosting across the back of my hand as she placed her empty glass in my grasp. The way she looked at me was maddening — it was as if she saw a million solutions to questions she desperately wanted answered. “I like this version of you more.”
“I have to keep some kind of professionalism around them,” I laughed.
“And not me?”
“I think we’ve established that I don’t feel a need to with you.”
Her blush spread again, and God, it was so fucking cute.
“I’ve already crossed lines with you that I absolutely shouldn’t have, even if it’s HR compliant,” I added. “I can talk to you like a human and not a robot dressed in a business suit.”
She bit her lip as I handed her the replacement drink. “Is it bad that I like that you crossed a line with me?” she asked, and instead of taking her drink from me, she grasped the straw with her fucking tongue and pulled it into her mouth, sucking at the strong cocktail. The little smirk she gave as she released the straw told me she knew exactly what she was doing. Tempting me.
“Christ,” I breathed, watching her as those big eyes met mine innocently. I set her glass back down before she could insist on drinking far too quickly. “You say you’re a virgin but it doesn’t fucking look like it.”
“I’m not that innocent,” she laughed, one hand coming to rest against my chest. “I’ve watched porn. And movies exist.”
Movies and porn. Was that genuinely all she was working with?
I took her face back in my hand, desperate to feel her lip against my thumb again. If I did it again and we did nothing else, I could memorize the way it felt at the least and imagine it elsewhere instead.
“You’ve never done anything?” I asked, lightly brushing my thumb across her mouth, committing it to my mind over and over.
Her lips parted as she leaned into me. “I’ve had a few boyfriends. Held a guy’s dick in my hand once,” she laughed. “That’s about as far as that went.”
I studied her features, watching as they relaxed the more I held her, the more I touched her. The faint music and chatter from the other patrons, the sounds of traffic far below us, and my ever-growing proximity didn’t even seem to phase her anymore. “You didn’t want to go any further with them?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Exhaling shakily, I touched her lips with my thumb again, transfixed by her. So fucking smart, but so bold with some drinks in her. “Would you go further with me?” I asked. I regretted it the moment it left my lips — it shouldn’t have come out. It should have stayed neatly tucked away with all of my other thoughts of her.
She nodded. Not an ounce of hesitation.
“Do you understand what I want from you?” I rasped, my thumb just barely slipping past her lips. Her tongue pressed against it, warm and wet and fucking soft, and… I needed to calm down. I needed to not do this with her, but I couldn’t find it in me to stop.
She didn’t answer me — but the flutter of her lashes, the way she didn’t fight me in the slightest as I fisted the fabric at the small of her back, told me she was having the same thoughts as I was. That made it so much worse, so much harder. Blood rushed between my hipbones.
I turned her, pressing her back against the railing, crowding her. “I want you,” I said, the words coming out as a low growl as I dropped my head beside hers, my lips hovering beside her ear. “In whatever ways you’ll give me.”
The little noise she made sounded almost like a gulp, but I took it as a confirmation.
I pressed my lips to hers again, testing my luck. She didn’t flinch, didn’t panic, didn’t hesitate — she kissed me back just as eagerly. The heat of her breath, her hand on my chest, the way she lingered when I tried to take a quick breather… I didn’t want to stop.
HR policy strictly said that sex with employees who were not in an established, committed relationship already at the time of hire or married to one another was off limits. Her beliefs limited her to similar standings.
But neither had any stipulations on anything other than sex.
Throwing one cursory glance over my shoulder to ensure we were alone in our little corner of the rooftop, I decided to test both of our boundaries. A horrible decision, really, but I wanted her too much and she was right there, and if I waited a second longer, she’d need another gulp of her drink to pluck up the confidence to let me touch her.
Shielding her with my body, I kissed her again, this time letting my hands drift. She leaned into it, breaking from my lips only to give me a little gasp and my fingers went lower, and lower, and lower, down along the hem of her black dress. She kissed me demandingly as I lifted the fabric up along her thigh, up over her rear, and exposed what was beneath to only me.
I broke from the kiss, giving her just enough space between our lips to object if she wanted to, and glanced down where my hand rested against the top of her black, lacy underwear and the bare flesh of her thighs and hips. Fluttering lashes hid bright green eyes as I dragged my gaze back to her, and before I could even ask, she spoke.
“Touch me,” she breathed.
Fuck. We were screwed. “Spread your legs, Olivia,” I ordered.
One shaky leg split off from the other, her heel clicking against the concrete.
I shoved a knee between her thighs, locking them in place. Lips parted and pupils blown, she looked up at me as I slipped my fingers behind the lacy fabric and down, down…
She was soaked.
“Oh, fuck,” I swallowed, nudging the side of her face with the bridge of my nose. She smelled of lavender, like falling asleep, but I wanted to do anything but that with her. Her hand wrapped around the back of my neck, her fingers playing with my hair, and the moment I dived between her lips and found her clit, the sound she made nearly drove me to do far worse things.
“Oh my God,” she whimpered, her nails digging into my skin. “We’re in public—”
“You want me to stop, princess?” I offered her, breathing in her scent with every word spoken. My fingers slipped easily between her thighs, circling her clit, keeping my touch light enough that she wasn’t getting enough. I watched as her chest rose and fell erratically. Her back arched against the railing, her gaze flicking between my eyes and somewhere over my shoulder.
“No,” she rasped. “Please… don’t stop.”
I slipped a single digit just a little bit further back. It slid inside of her with ease.
Her warmth enveloped me, tight and hot and damp, and it was like a switch flipped. I fucking lost myself in her, pumping her, curling the end of my finger until she gasped against the side of my face, her panting turning to music. My cock throbbed, aching behind the prison wall that was my zipper, and I had to tell myself that I could handle not taking her right that instant. I could handle doing less than everything if I needed to.
Effortlessly, I slipped another finger in, using the base of my palm against her clit as my digits stretched her walls. “Damien,” she moaned, her head turning toward mine, each gasp coming quicker.
I kissed her again, quieting her. But it wasn’t impulsive this time — no, it was precise, hungry, and almost gluttonous as I devoured her, and she gave it right back. My fingers worked her, pumping in and out like I wanted to do with my hips, her body coming so easily undone beneath me. She was heaven, and she was Goddamn sin, and by the end of the evening, I was certain we’d be entirely consumed by the latter.
But I wanted more now. I wanted the entirety of her fucking body to myself, so much it felt like a roaring fire at my back pushing me ever forward.
Her walls tightened around my fingers, her frantic breathing only elevating. Replacing the base of my palm with my thumb, I swirled it like I had with my fingertips, giving her just an ounce of extra pressure on the bundle of nerves that drove her mad. The moment I felt her body stiffening beneath me, I held my pace and broke my lips from hers.
“Just imagine how much fucking better this would feel if it were my cock,” I rasped, my mind getting the better of me.
Those wild eyes met mine again, too many horrible thoughts floating behind them. I wanted to make more of those, wanted to plant the seeds and let them bloom over the time we had tonight. I wanted her. God, I wanted her, wanted what we couldn’t—no, shouldn’t—have.
“You want that, don’t you?” I smirked down at her, watching as her gaze flicked between my eyes and my lips, her mouth popping open as if she wanted to speak but quickly closing. “You want to be filled. Claimed. Dripping my fucking cum.”
Every word out of my mouth only made my resistance weaker and my desperation stronger, but with the way she was clenching around me, I could tell it made it so much better for her.
“Damien,” she gasped, one hand wrapping around my wrist and holding it in place. A silent request — don’t stop. “Please, I…”
“Come,” I ordered. “Show me just how much you want me to fuck you.”
Her mouth parted and her walls closed in as her body released, and before she could make a sound, I pressed my lips to hers. The kiss was sloppy and messy, but I didn’t fucking care, not when she was pooling her juices in the palm of my hand, not when her nails were digging so hard into me I thought they might break the skin.
I pulled her through her orgasm, dulling my movements, only stopping once I was positive she’d reached the point of sensitivity instead of pleasure. Her little sounds against my lips slowed, turning back into wanting moans instead of gasping breaths, but I wasn’t about to give her more than she needed. At least not yet.
Slipping my hand from her underwear, I broke my mouth from hers. I gave myself the chance to inspect the mess she’d made despite knowing what it would do to me. Strings of her dampness connected my fingers, crystal clear and viscous, and the blush that spread across her cheeks almost dragged my attention back to her.
She shimmied her hips and her dress fell back into place, her footing almost being lost. I held her up, and she hummed her approval of it.
“I’m going to ruin you,” I rasped, pressing a kiss against her cheek. I splayed my damp fingers across her jaw, holding her in place as I nipped at the skin of her neck, kissed it, sucked at it. I wanted to do the same between her legs. “Come back to my suite with me.”
“I think I need another drink,” she laughed.
————
Drunk and stumbling, we found ourselves at the top of the Mandalay Bay inside their scenic bar. We drank more, consumed more, keeping the buzz going and slipping a little bit further into drunken debauchery.
There was nowhere for us to hide. My only solution was renting a private balcony that was secluded enough to be fit for purpose in our haze, and as we slipped out the doors and pulled the blustering curtains closed, I didn’t have the patience to wait to touch her again.
But she was on me before I could even get the chance to pounce.
Her mouth met mine, flooding my senses with lavender and the lingering taste of the limoncello shot she’d downed moments ago. She kissed me as if she needed it, and I met her fervor, lifting her dress with one hand and gripping her by the back of her neck with the other.
Hooking one finger on the string of her underwear, I slipped them down her thighs, breaking from her lips momentarily to tug them off from her heeled feet. I tossed them off the ledge of the balcony, and to my utter surprise, she didn’t even notice.
I pushed her down onto the couch, the lower half of her dress gathering around her hips.
I sank to my fucking knees in front of her.
The taste I’d had back at the Delano wasn’t enough. But I was content to torture myself just a little bit longer as long as I was staying between her thighs.
“Have you had someone’s mouth on you before?” I asked her, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh.
“No. But I think I like you down there.” The smile that crept across her cheeks did little to hide the growing blush that coated almost the entirety of her face. Any hints of hesitation had been abandoned back at the Delano, and she was being bold now. “What do you think my desk mate would say if you were like this beneath—”
“Touch yourself,” I demanded, sinking my teeth into the soft, fleshy bit of her inner thigh to shut her up before she could say something ridiculous.
She blinked down at me, her mouth open in a perfect little O. “What?”
Grasping her hand with mine, I placed it on top of her mound. “Show me how much better I am at touching you than you are, and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
She hesitated. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol that impaired her, making her processing time slower, or if she didn’t want to. But a second later, her red-painted nails were touching her clit, her head dipping back into the cushions as if no one was watching.
But I was. God, I was.
I kissed up her thigh, salivating as her fingers moved. One knee hooked over my shoulder, she dipped two fingers inside of herself. My cock strained painfully against my slacks in response. Every passing second that I wasn’t burying myself in her was torture, and my reluctance to go beyond what was allowed for us was waning.
Frustrated, drunk, and so horny I was losing my mind, I shoved her hand away and replaced it with my mouth.
Olivia gasped, her hand diving into my hair and grasping at the strands. I devoured her, claimed her with my tongue, abusing my straining erection further. Sliding three fingers inside without a single bit of resistance, I knew damn well she’d pleasured herself with things larger than my digits before. There wasn’t a hymen in sight. Fucking hell. I drank every drop she leaked, savoring the decadent taste of her as if she were water and I was dying of thirst.
“Damien,” she mewled. Neither of us cared anymore about the sounds she made, and although the balcony we’d rented was fairly secluded, nothing was stopping her moans from carrying to others above and below us. “Fuck, oh my God—”
Her release came quicker this time, flooding my mouth, clenching around my fingers before relinquishing them. I took every fucking bit she gave me, dragged it out, overstimulated her with my tongue just to hear her cries a little longer.
When the intensity had calmed and my lips and chin were drenched in a mixture of saliva and her, I rested my head on her thigh, my fingers still buried inside of her. “I can’t lie, Liv,” I laughed. “Marriage is sounding better and better by the minute.”
I didn’t care how desperate I sounded anymore, couldn’t give a shit if she thought less of me for it. Not when I wanted her this badly, not when I was this drunk that I would stoop to any level for some wicked angel from my dreams.
She giggled as I slipped my fingers from her. “You’d hate being married to me,” she grinned. “I’d want this all the time.”
I sighed dramatically, pulling another laugh from her. “That would be the opposite of a problem.”
I pulled myself up off the cement balcony, leaning down over her to kiss her, to let her taste herself on my tongue. Her hand drifted over the front of my slacks, stopping as she felt the rigidity beneath them, and slowly but surely, her fingers closed in around the straining stitches. She gripped me with a vice.
“Fuck, Liv, I need you,” I groaned, the squeezing only amplifying my problem.
She grinned against my lips. “I need another drink.”
————
We were well past the point of no return when my watch read what I could barely make out as half past two in the morning. I was teetering on drunken blackout territory, and from the slurring of her speech and the difficulty she had keeping herself upright, so was Olivia.
Nothing and no one mattered anymore apart from her and the ways I could touch her. I had no idea how we got to this point — we’d gone from playful banter to desperation in the span of hours.
The flickering light of the surprisingly clean bathroom lit her fully bare body stunningly as she leaned against the wall for support. Even through the bleariness of my eyes, she still looked unreal, like I could split her in two and she would thank me for it. I was only halfway sure we were at a bar in the Bellagio, but if someone had told me we’d flown to Paris and I’d lost my memory of the hours it would take to get there, I probably would have believed them.
Her short frame barely reached my shoulders as I stumbled closer. My jacket abandoned on the floor, my shirt unbuttoned and hanging off my shoulders — for the life of me, I couldn’t remember how we’d gotten to this point. Everything was blurring together.
I took her breast into my mouth, lashed against her nipple with my tongue. Her perfect fucking moans filled the small room, and I didn’t care how loud she was anymore, not when my rings and fingers were burying inside of her and her entire body was mine. The idea of someone intruding didn’t even phase me — I’d let them watch if I could have her.
A moment later and my belt was unbuckled, my slacks unzipped, and my cock was wrapped in her painted fingers. It was as if I’d lost the time in between.
“Shit,” I groaned, burying my face in the hair at the top of her head. When had I left her breast? She rode my fingers as I thrust into her hand, her release coming too quick, too easy, too messy. I couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but want her. “I need to fuck you, princess.”
“You need to fuck me?” she giggled, her fingers tightening around my cock. Her hand looked so small wrapped around it, her digits not even meeting. Her words were slurred and slow, lilting as if she were humming them. “Is this… not… enough?”
“Not with you.” Gliding my fingers up the back of her neck, I wrapped my hand in her hair, pulling it taut until her head dropped far enough back against the wall that she was forced to look directly up at me. She winced from the pain, her hips moving against my still hand to counteract it. “This can’t be enough with you. Neither of us are fucking satisfied, are we?”
“I’m not…” She hiccuped, interrupting herself. Her laughter filled the room for a fleeting second. “I’m not having sex until I’m—”
“Marry me.” The words didn’t phase me. The idea didn’t, either, not this time. I’d regretted it the first time, but what I’d spoken earlier should have been taken at face value. I’d go this low to take her. I’d do it to make HR happy, to make her happy. It sounded like a brilliant idea now. “Marry me, please. Please, Olivia. Fucking marry me.”
“Don’t say that,” she drawled, her head lolling before I tightened my grip again. “You don’t mean it.”
“I do,” I snarled, my hips stuttering as I teetered on the edge. “There’s a chapel on every fucking street corner.”
Her lips parted as she studied me, her eyes almost going cross-eyed as I brought my lips to hers briefly. “If you come, will you still want that?” she asked, a shit-eating grin lashing out across her lips.
“Yes.” My voice hoarse and my body sweating, I knew it wouldn’t be enough to stop the need.
She met my thrusts with every stroke of her hand, gripping me, dragging me up and over the edge. I leaked across her stomach, cum dripping between us and onto the tile, and it didn’t even cross my mind to back down.
I still wanted more.
“Marry me,” I rasped, once more for good measure. “Let me show you how much better this can be.”
Heavy lidded eyes met mine and I released my grasp on her hair, letting her mull the words over. Reality should have crashed into me the moment she spoke. “Okay.”
But dear fucking God, I was making the best decision of my life.
————
The neon lights and the very slight come down from blackout territory to just maddeningly drunk weren’t enough to wake either of us up. We were in this fully, cackling as we stumbled down the street at three in the morning, convinced that this was the best thing we had ever thought to do. She practiced her “I do” over and over in silly voices, and I parroted them back at her, committing the one she liked most to memory. It was gone within seconds, though.
Her heels clutched in her hand, I carried her into the late-night chapel.
We signed the paperwork.
We handed over our IDs.
We shared a toast of a champagne flute filled with beer, and I shoved a short veil into her messed-up hair. I stood beside a man in a full-white Elvis costume as she clumsily walked barefoot down the aisle.
I slid my platinum pinky ring onto her left ring finger. I let her do the same for me with mine.
We said I do.
“You may now kiss the little mama,” Elvis said, and I fucking did.
I kissed her the way I had the first time back at the restaurant, raw and desperate, and clung to her as I tipped her the way a groom is meant to tip his bride.
We posed for photographs for all of two minutes.
We took the gifted Prosecco that Elvis handed us.
“We’ll need this for our wedding night,” I told her, and the biggest, brightest smile flashed across her cheeks.
Fuck her room at the Flamingo. She was coming back with me to the Bellagio, and I would have the best Goddamn night of my life with my wife.
