Page 87 of Rock Me

"You always have a choice, Emmie."

I smile at the nickname. I've always hated nicknames, but I like it coming from him. Like I exist to him in a different form than I do to the rest of the world.

I sigh again. "I'm so happy," I tell him. And the smile grows wider.

"Me too. I didn't think I could be this happy."

"We're a couple of happy mush-heads."

"Well, you're a happy mush-head, I'm a smoldering pile of happy muscle and manliness."

I poke him gently in the chest and he lets out a little yelp.

"Ow!"

"Oh, yes, very manly."

"You have strong fingers! Those uke strumming fingers. I used to have fingers like that."

I grin and reach for his hand and drop a soft kiss to the fingertips. "They'll be strong again. I'll be sure to give them lots of practice."

His smile changes to a look of want and he lowers his head to mine, kissing me, gently at first, and then it builds, and builds and builds, his hands are in my hair, mine around his neck. I want him. My body feels like it needs to be devoured by him, taken, possessed.

I nibble on his lip and he lets out a low growl, his mouth moving to trace along my neck. I throw my head back, exposing his tongue to more skin and he dips it into the valley between my breasts.

And then he stops.

Dropping small gentle kisses back up my décolleté to my mouth, he then pulls away, kissing the top of my head.

I wonder what made him stop, but I don’t ask.

I face the window again, the sight of the tower overwhelming me. I don't know if I'll ever get used to seeing it.

We stare out into the strip for a few minutes, the music from the fountain drifting up to us, like orphaned notes scattering in the desert winds, the fountains shooting a canon of water droplets high up into the air with only some returning to the pool, the rest catching on a whoosh of air and disappearing into the night, cooling on the upturned faces of the spectators.

Then it's over, the crowd dissipates, and it's just us once more.

"So, what do you want to do now?"

Have you fuck me. My mind answers. But my mouth keeps it between us.

I thought he'd want to.

I've given him every sign that I want to. That I want him.

"Um, what do you want to do?" I ask him, my voice suddenly shy and quiet.

"Well, you can't come to Vegas and not gain 10 pounds. I'm pretty sure that's illegal. Shall we hit the buffet? The Bellagio's is one of my favorites. Or we could go to Wicked Spoon or one of the newer ones. But if you like desserts, which I know you do, we're just a few hundred steps away."

He takes my hand and spin me around and for a moment, just a moment, I let the magic of the moment consume me. I twirl, my dress ballooning around me, and I laugh as the lights of the Eiffel Tower reflect in his eyes.

And I want to be nowhere else but right here.