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Dylan hooked his hands around my thighs, spreading my legs fa rther apart as he devoured every inch of me. His wicked tongue had me unraveling within seconds, hurtling so hard and so fast toward the edge it was a miracle I could even concentrate.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. “Dylan, yourmouth. Fuck, I wanna come on your tongue.”
“Go ahead,” he said casually. “Plenty more where this came from.”
I stroked him from base to tip, pumping him steadily through my own completion. He spilled into my hand a few strokes later, our bodies tangled up together in a mess of arms and legs. I sighed contentedly, warmth radiating from my core out to the tips of my fingers and toes.
Dylan slapped my ass affectionately. “Go team.”
I laughed. “Are you awake now?”
“Most definitely.”
“Care to join me in the shower?” I asked as I hopped off the bed. “And then maybe we can check out the buffet downstairs. I hope it’s all you can eat because I’mstarving. We totally forgot to eat dinner last night.”
Dylan rolled out of bed, wrapping his arm around my waist as we headed towards the bathroom. “Totally worth it,” he mumbled against my skin. “Maybe we can check out the casino, too. I promised my little brother I’d make a bet for him. May as well go big or go home.”
I giggled. “We are in Vegas, after all.”
* * *
If I wasn’t so in love with investigative journalism, I might have seriously considered becoming a food critic. The buffet Dylan and I visited was out of this world. There was a little bit of everything. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, desserts. Sweet and savory, spicy and mild. The number of chocolate and cheese fountains was mind- blowing.
“We need to bring Cash and Red here when they’re done with their meeting,” I said around a mouthful of sweet and sour pork. Yes, it was technically only eight in the morning, but nobody seemed to bat an eye. Las Vegas was truly a wild and wonderful place. I couldn’t wait for the chance to get out and do some exploring.
Beside me, Dylan was helping himself to a simple cup of coffee. The poor guy still seemed very tired. I couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to caress his cheek.
“Stay with me, Dyl,” I teased. “I won’t have you passing out in my scrambled eggs. Isn’t that your second cup? How are you still tired?”
“I’m not tired,” he insisted. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Is it the whole last-minute coaching thing?”
He nodded. “After you three fell asleep, I stayed up until three doing research.”
“Research? For what?”
He shrugged. “I just want to make sure I’ve got all my bases covered. I know the sport, and I’m familiar with their strengths and weaknesses, but I don’t have any experience coaching them through a real match. I read interviews, advice articles… That sort of thing. I don’t want to let them down.”
I gave his hand a light squeeze. “I’m sure that won’t happen. It’s obvious how much Cash and Red trust you. They know you have their backs.”
Dylan tossed back the rest of his coffee. “I want to see them succeed more than anything.”
I poked my last strip of bacon around with the tip of my fork. “Can I ask you a question?”
He chuckled. “You always say that. You should know by now that all you have to do is ask.”
I grinned. “They told me you used to be into UFC, too.”
“Yeah, when we were younger. We all went to the same gym after school. Red and Cash went to the other high school, you know the one, on the east side of Sunville. But the gym was the one place where we could meet up without fail.”
“Why did you stop fighting? Was it a sports injury? Did you lose interest?”
Dylan shrugged. “I’m sure you’re aware of their struggles by now. Measly pay unless you hit it big time, shitty coaches, painful injuries. There was a time when I thought I could make a name for myself, become one of the biggest names in UFC history.”
“But?” I prodded.
“I got scared.”
