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Her red nails dig into my skin as she presses her tits against my back. "I hate to ask, but are you really Joel Young?"
That answers that question.
I turn back to her with a smile. "No, I'm his sexi
er twin brother."
She giggles. "Joel Young doesn't have a twin brother."
"He can't admit anyone in the world is more beautiful than he is."
This time, she lets out a guffaw of a fake laugh. Those long, red nails rake over my skin. She arches her back to thrust her chest towards me.
It's the kind of gesture that usually calls my attention.
But there's a hollowness to it.
She doesn't want me. She wants Joel Young, celebrity playboy. Usually, I'm okay stepping into that role. But right now…
My head refuses to get in gear. My thoughts are drifting back to that look on Mom's face. She needed me to make a joke. She needed me to laugh that shit off, so she could laugh it off too.
But I couldn't.
For the first time in my entire fucking life, I couldn't laugh it off.
God dammit, I'm not in Vegas because I want to think.
"Nice to meet you, honey." I smile and pull away from the blonde.
She pouts, no doubt lamenting the loss of her I fucked a celebrity story, but I'm not about to stick around to kiss it better.
I get all the way to the other side of the dance floor before I see her.
Fuck, does she not belong here. Her black dress hugs her lush curves. It's sexy as hell, but it looks more business than pleasure. It looks like something she'd wear to meet with her boss.
If she didn't look so young and awkward, she'd look like a boss. She has that stiffness about her.
She shifts her weight between her long legs. Her milk chocolate hair is pulled into a tight bun. Thick, black glasses frame her brown eyes.
All I can think about is sliding those frames off her face.
Watching her hair spill over her cheeks and shoulders.
Pulling her panties to her knees, diving under that dress, and licking her until she's coming on my face.
She chews on her lip as she leans against the wall.
I'm not about to watch her have a bad time. Not when I'm here.
I couldn't fix my parents' marriage. I couldn't fix my mom's miserable mood.
But I can fix this woman's night.
I move close enough to introduce myself. "I'm Joel."
She looks up at me curiously. It's not where do I know him from? It's something else.
"You aren't starting with a line?" she asks.
