cab?â
Vegas
7
I got out of bed carefully, so as not to wake Marie. The last thing I wanted was for my girlfriend to start questioning me about where I was going. It had taken four good orgasms and a sleeping pill in her wine, but sheâd finally fallen asleep. Being the boyfriend of a beautiful madam with an ultra-high sex drive was fun, but not an easy job. When it came to sex, Marie was more like a dude than any woman Iâd ever met. She wanted it when she wanted it, and that seemed to be all the time. Since Iâd been released from prison six months ago, weâd end up doing it two or three times a dayâfour, if Iâd let her. Now, donât get me wrong. I was flattered that she loved the dick, and the pussy was outstanding, but there were other motives behind her trying to drain every drop out of me. Marie wanted to have my baby, and getting pregnant had become her top priority. Not that I was putting up any stop signs. I loved the idea of having a kid too.
I slipped on a black wife beater, pants, and sneakers, along with a white button-down shirt that I kept open, before heading out of the hotel room toward the elevator. It was quarter to one, which meant I only had four and a half hours of darkness left to accomplish my real mission in Saint Martin. Iâd already spent two days more than I should have away from home. By now I was sure Sasha had given the old man the postcard Minister Farah had given to me. Pop hadnât blown up my phone or sent anyone down to stop me, so he must have approved of, or at least accepted, my plan of action.
I stepped off the elevator and was greeted by a very attractive, exotic-looking, short-haired sister behind the front desk. Iâd caught her sneaking a peek a few times when I was with Marie over the past few days. Now that Marie wasnât with me, there was no shame to this womanâs game. Her gaze followed me from my first step off the elevator, so I thought it only right that I returned the favor, locking eyes with her. By the time I reached the counter, the poor woman looked like she was about to melt.
âGood evening, Mr. Duncan. Youâre up rather late.â She spoke in the heavy Caribbean accent that made my blood hot. âCanât sleep?â
âIâve got a lot on my mind. Thought Iâd put the top down and take a drive along the coast. Itâs a full moon tonight.â
âIt is. Too bad I donât get off for another hour, or Iâd take that ride with you.â
I chuckled. âI donât think my companion upstairs would appreciate that.â
âHer name is not on the reservation. Yours is,â she said, her voice dripping with sensuality. âThe hotel management has made it very clear that youâre a VIP on the presidential level, so my job is to make sure you have the best experience this resort can offer. And Iâm very good at my job.â She gave me a smile that could have tempted an angel. No beating around the bush for this Caribbean chocolate drop.
âOh, I can only imagine. But Iâm good for right now.â
âOkay, then,â she said, not hiding her disappointment. âHow else can I help you tonight?â
âThere should be a package down here for me.â I handed her a luggage receipt.
She typed something into a computer then nodded. âYes. Just give me a moment to retrieve it.â As she turned and walked away, I couldnât help but follow her perfectly round ass as it went through the door. If I didnât have a woman like Marie upstairs, I would have loved to play in her playground.
A few minutes later, she returned with an oversized briefcase. âIs this what you were expecting?â
âThatâs it,â I said, taking the case from her. âThank you.â
âYouâre welcome. My name is Kimberly. If there is anything I can do to help, just call.â We both knew that she truly meant anything.
I
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley