Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 86510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Yes, definitely Vegas.
A topless server with fake tits that look like cereal bowls approaches me, smiling broadly. Her hair is bleached blond, and her face is round and pretty. “May I help you?”
“Absolutely. I’ll have fifteen-year Macallan, neat.”
“Come have a seat at the bar. I’ll get it for you.”
I nod and follow her.
There are only two open seats at the bar, one of which is right next to the man eating the woman.
I choose the other.
The server walks behind the bar and then holds out her hand. “I’m Lindy. I haven’t seen you here before.”
“That’s because I’ve never been here before. I’m a member at one of the sister clubs in New York City.”
“Oh. What brings you to Las Vegas?”
“Business.”
Lindy grabs a glass from under the bar. “Happy to have you. Would you like someone to show you around the club?”
“That’s all right. I’ll just look around myself. But thank you.”
“Never a problem.” She winks and smacks her lips. Then she pours my drink and slides it toward me. I take a fifty out of my wallet and hand it to her.
“Wow. Thank you.” She winks again and then turns her attention to another person at the bar.
I didn’t notice her at first, but the person at the bar is a woman. She’s dressed in an emerald-green minidress, fishnets, and platform slides.
She turns to look at me.
Her eyes are green, a striking similarity to her dress. Hair is dark brown.
“Good evening,” she says.
“Good evening.”
“I’m Aurora.” She holds out her hand.
“Ronan.” I take her hand.
She’s a beautiful woman—more classically beautiful than Mary even—but not so much as a spark passes between us.
Still, I came to get my mind off of Mary, and Aurora is indeed gorgeous. Totally my type, even more than Mary is.
“You look like Jamie Fraser,” she says.
“Right. The Outlander guy.” Good thing Mary enlightened me.
“Are you Scottish?”
“Half,” I say.
“What’s your other half?”
“French Creole.”
She giggles. “No way.”
“Way,” I say monotonically.
I feel like I’m back in college at a fucking frat party.
“I’m a mixture of Irish and Armenian with a little bit of Greek sprinkled in,” she says.
I nod. “Yeah, you do look that part. The green eyes of the Irish.”
“On my Armenian side, all their eyes are brown.” She bats her eyelids.
“Your eyes are striking,” I say.
“Yours are too. The color of the sky.”
“Thank you.” I watch her finish her drink. “Can I get you another?”
“I’d like that.”
I signal to Lindy. “Another for the lady, please.” Then I turn back to Aurora. “What are you drinking?”
“Old-fashioned. My drink of choice.”
I nod. “I like an old-fashioned. It reminds me of a sweet Sazerac.”
“What’s a Sazerac?”
“It’s a Creole cocktail made with rye whiskey. It’s delicious, but it can be harsh.”
Aurora motions to Lindy. “Instead of an old-fashioned, could I try a Sazerac?”
Lindy looks through her bottles and shakes her head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. We’re out of rye.”
“Bummer,” Aurora says.
“Just imagine your old-fashioned a little bit harsher, with floral undertones,” I say.
“Absolutely.” She gives me a dazzling smile.
“You live here in Las Vegas?” I ask.
“I do.”
“What are you doing here in the club? Are you looking for play?”
She smiles slyly. “Always.”
“It would be my pleasure if you would join me. Assuming you’re a submissive.”
She pouts her lips. “Can’t you tell?”
“I had a feeling, but it’s always best to ask.”
“You have Dominant written on your forehead in indelible ink, Jamie Fraser.”
Does she really think that will turn me on? For me to be compared to some fictional character because I happen to resemble him slightly?
I finish my drink, set the glass on the counter. I pull another bill out of my wallet and slide it over for Lindy.
Any other time, a comparison to a fictional character probably wouldn’t bother me. Why tonight?
Aurora is beautiful, elegant. And available.
And I’m suddenly no longer interested.
I’m not sure I ever was.
Fuck. I’m lying to myself.
I never was.
I’m interested in playing with only one woman, and she’s back in New York. That fact in itself isn’t unusual. Keira and I were exclusive in our play.
No. What’s unusual is that I find myself thinking of Mary during the day, during work, when we’re not together at the club. I want to protect her—and not just as a Dominant protects his submissive. Something about her has affected me on a visceral level. It’s why I invited her to New Orleans…and it’s why I can’t stop thinking about her now.
Mémé always wanted me to settle down, to have a family, but I resisted because I was determined never to put a child through what I went through. A child is a gift. He or she shouldn’t be something that a parent tosses aside for the sake of a career. I’m married to my career. I micromanage. How does a wife and child fit into that scenario?
Answer—they don’t.
I couldn’t give Keira what she wanted because I didn’t feel that way about her. But Mary? I’m feeling things so foreign, so unusual, that it’s making me reconsider my life’s path.