Vegas (2 page)

Chapter 2

Abby threaded through mid-morning traffic. Instead of turning into the parking garage of the Custer, she sailed past and out of town. Past the outskirts of the city, she drove past rolling fields and the Black Hills forest off into the distance. She wound her Camaro up a steep hill until she reached the last house at the end of the secluded lane. She got out and strode toward the log cabin’s front porch. She climbed the steps and entered the front door without knocking. She would have called out, but she didn’t want to risk disturbing the baby if she were napping. She turned the corner of the living room and found Sarah at the kitchen table, laptop open, and baby Hope asleep in a bassinet beside her. “Hey,” she whispered. Sarah smiled at her. Abby gave Hope’s single lock of brown hair a slight tousle as she passed by and slid into a seat next to her friend. “School stuff?” she asked, nodded at the computer.

“Yeah,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “Online classes are good, but I forgot what college was like.”

Abby smirked. “It’s a pain the ass, if I remember.”

Sarah groaned. “I’ve got an exam on Monday that I’ll have to drive to school for.”

“Is Tildy watching Hope then?”

Sarah nodded and blew out a harsh breath. Her sable hair fluttered out of her eyes. “Are you sure you want to hire me?”

Abby laughed. “Too late. The ink’s dry. I own your soul.”

Hope stirred beside them and opened her eyes. She smiled at Abby and giggled at the two woman. Sarah reached for her but Abby swooped in. “I’ve got her,” she said. She scooped the girl into her arms and settled her on her lap. Hope snatched a handful of Abby’s red hair and tugged.

“Hope! Sarah scolded.

Abby laughed. “It doesn’t hurt,” she assured her as she grinned at Hope and bounced her.

Between growing up in a Las Vegas hotel, working full time since she was a teenager and graduating college early, Abby hadn’t spent that much time with children, or any time at all really. She knew she liked them, had a vague feeling of warmth and comfort when she held Hope, but until she’d met Mark having kids had seemed like a nebulous, ill-formed plan that seemed like it might be a good idea, but without someone to share parenthood with, it was an idea that had remained mostly at the back of her mind.

Holding the baby now, she knew she was at least on the path to domestic bliss. Abby had a lot to learn about parenting, but Mark would make a great father. In a few years when the hotel was running at optimal capacity and the restaurant she and Sarah were starting was humming along, Abby thought she might be able to find a whipsmart Assistant manager to help her with her workload. Abby didn’t know how babies fit in around play collars and bondage ropes, but she’d never felt more confident that she and Mark could make it work. Mark had told her that he only demanded obedience in the bedroom, which had turned out to be more of a general philosophy than an actual statement of facts.

In truth Mark demanded her obedience in the bedroom, the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen, and once or twice on the weight bench in his ‘torture chamber’. What he’d meant was: her finances remained under her control, her hobbies were her own, and her career was all hers. In a few years when they started having kids, they’d have to actually restrict their playtime to the bedroom. Abby remembered fondly being strapped to Mark’s weight bench and vowed they’d have to work that in at least a few dozen more times before that room became a nursery.

“But executive chef…” Sarah interrupted.

“Is totally within your ability. Anyway, I’ll handle the numbers, you just build me a fabulous menu that’ll make us the best restaurant in town.”

“You promise there’s a light at the end of this tunnel?”

“Only if you promise desserts to die for. This is the hard part,” she said, gesturing to the computer. “The rest will be easy. Promise. And gee,” she said with a grin, “if only you had a great boss who would let you do most of that from home.”

“I love you.”

“Well, good because I need a favor.”

Sarah looked up from the laptop. “What?”

“I need something catered. Something special for Mark’s birthday. I booked the ballroom, just the two of us.”

Sarah brightened. “I can totally do that!”

Abby nodded. “I need a kickass ribeye,” she told Sarah, because it was Mark’s favorite. “And some sinfully decadent dessert,” she looked at Sarah with a sly grin, “that maybe we want to take back to the room with us.”

Sarah’s face flushed deep red, likely remembering the time she and Chris had taken their own dessert to the bedroom. On an alcohol soaked girl’s night out long ago Sarah had told them all about it, mortified the next day that she’d revealed so much. Abby laughed as she watched her friend turned red from embarrassment.

“I’m never drinking again,” Sarah grumbled.

Abby passed up the Custer for the second time that day. This time she turned the corner and parallel parked four blocks away on a tree-lined avenue. She straightened her blazer, tugged at the collar of her silk blouse, and ducked under the awning of a jewelry store that Daisy had told her about a few weeks ago. She pressed the buzzer and waited for the store’s receptionist to visually assess her. A longer buzz sounded in reply and she grasped the handle of the door and pulled. She stepped into the air-conditioning store as the heavy security door. The receptionist smiled and greeted her warmly. Abby returned the nod.

“May I help you?” asked another, older woman as she moved away from the front desk and out to meet Abby. Her shrewd eyes took in Abby’s pressed linen suit and Jimmy Choos. Abby swore the woman almost nodded appreciatively. As she got even closer, the woman’s eyes sparkled as she caught sight of Abby’s vintage necklace. The snakeskin chain was gold, a small jeweled flower made of rubies and diamonds sat nestled in the hollow of Abby’s throat.

“On, my! What a beautiful piece!” she said, indicating the necklace.

Abby absentmindedly touch the metal that had been warmed by her skin. “Thank you,” she replied. “It was a gift. And I’d like to get something in return for him.”

The saleswoman nodded and swept her arm toward a glass display case behind her. “Of course. What did you have in mind, dear? Perhaps cuff links or a watch. We have some beautiful Piagets or-”

Abby smiled as she tried to picture Mark wearing cuff links or a designer watch. The man had good taste when he shopped for her, but he kept his own appearance low-key. She shook her head. “Oh, no,” she told the woman. “I need something more personal.”

“Personal? An engraved-”

“Wedding band,” Abby finished. “A man’s wedding band. And yes, I’ll need it engraved.”

The woman’s eyes flitted to Abby’s left hand and she frowned. She was probably attempting to gauge Abby’s budget based on her engagement ring, but she came up befuddled after realizing Abby wasn’t wearing one.

“That’s next on the list,” Abby assured her.

The woman pressed her lips together obviously hiding a frown. Abby got the impression that she didn’t quite know what to make of a woman who put the cart before the horse, so-to-speak. Perhaps she thought the younger generation had no understanding of the proper order of things. Whatever the saleswoman thought, the hint that Abby would at some point be needing a second ring to accompany the first appeared to be all the encouragement she needed to try and close the sale.

“A wedding ring,” she declared. “Yes.” She led Abby to a different display case. “And if I may inquire, when is the happy occasion?” She was no doubt wondering if both commissions could be collected anytime soon.

“I don’t know,” Abby said peering into the case. “He hasn’t said yes yet.”

The woman’s eyes few wide as she stared at Abby. “Right. And…” She seemed to be searching for just the right response. She settled on, “Budget?” She winced as though asking the question so directly was painful to her, but given that conversation up to this point had so completely derailed the woman, Abby didn’t blame her.

“No budget,” she replied. “But it has to be perfect.”

“Oh, absolutely!” she agreed, enthusiastically now that she found herself on more familiar ground and with a fat commission looming large. “Diamonds?” she suggested. “Channel set?”

Abby shook her head. Mark wouldn’t care for stones. “No,” she said. “Nothing flashy.”

The salesclerk’s hopes appeared to be a little dashed as the corners of her mouth slid down, but she soldiered on. “What kind of man is he? Refined, elegant?” she asked no doubt looking at Abby and trying to guess who a woman in a pressed linen suit would be dating.

“Ex-military,” Abby told her. “He’s a mechanic now.”

Abby suppressed a grin as she watched the woman desperately trying to sort out the puzzle that was Mark and Abby’s relationship.

Keep trying, lady
, Abby thought.
I’ve been trying for months and I don’t have it all figured out yet.
Abby may not have had their relationship completely figured out, but she knew she wanted it forever. Her eyes settled on a band on the top shelf of the glass case. “I’d like to see that one.”

The woman unlocked the case, slid the glass to the side, and plucked out the dark gray box housing the gold ring. She handed it over and Abby took it out of the box and held it in fingers. It was polished gold on the inside but the outside was hammered. As she twirled it in her fingers, she realized that it reminded her of Mark, polished and shiny but with so many angles that you never knew which direction he’d head next. It looked rough but smooth, beautiful but masculine, everything Mark was when she thought about him.

“It’s a treasure,” said the saleswoman as Abby rubbed the pad of her finger along the outside. Abby assumed that meant it was designer and expensive, neither of which mattered to her.

“I’ll take it,” she nearly whispered. When she looked up the woman was smiling at her. “And I’ll need it engraved,” Abby reminded her.

The woman reached for a small pad and pen. “And the inscription?”

“Love, Honor, Obey.”

The woman’s smile widened. “Well,” she said. “It’s so nice to see young people with such traditional values.”

Chapter 3

Abby sat at her desk going over expense reports when there was a knock on her office door.

“It’s open,” she called.

Susan, one of The Custer’s full-time front desk receptionists, stepped in with a flat, cardboard box tucked under her arm. “Delivery,” Susan told her. “Addressed to you.”

The brunette looked puzzled. Abby understood why. She never received personal correspondence at work. This break from the norm had the woman’s interest piqued.

“Thanks, Susan,” Abby replied, standing to take it from her.

“Is it for your private party? Because Lucas says the champagne you specially ordered will be on tomorrow’s delivery truck.” She handed Abby a yellow post-it note confirming the message from The Custer’s head bartender. This no doubt confused Susan further because The Custer already offered champagne service to its more distinguished guests. Though not too long ago, before Abby had… bought… the historic hotel, “champagne service” had meant something far different.

Abby was certain that the slightly older woman didn’t suspect her of any particularly shady business dealings, but Susan was always keenly aware of anything out of the ordinary. Just to dispel any concerns, and because she was so excited, Abby picked up the silver letter opener on her desk and laid the package down. She slit the tape and opened it.

Several yards of lace tumbled from the box as Abby gently lifted it out. Susan gasped. “Venetian lace,” Abby told her. “It’s a tablecloth. And, yes, it’s for the party I booked in the ballroom.”

It was beautiful, more intricate and exquisite than it had even appeared in the catalog she’d ordered it from.

“It’s gorgeous!” Susan proclaimed. “God, you must be celebrating something really important.”

Abby simply nodded. She wanted their dinner to be perfect. She normally didn’t splurge on big-ticket items, especially not Venetian lace tablecloths, but afterward she could use it at the house for a formal place setting in their own dining room if they ever needed it. It was really just one more small way she’d transform Mark’s home into
their
home. So far Mark had been one hundred percent supportive of Abby adding her own personal touch to the place. She’d picked a few pieces of furniture and had hung several of her favorite photos of the Nevada desert. She carefully folded the fabric and gently placed it back in the box. As she was re-placing the lid, the phone began to ring. Susan excused herself as Abby rounded the corner of her desk and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Pet.”

Abby’s pussy instinctively contracted as if begging for the smooth, beautiful cock that belonged to that smooth, beautiful voice.

“Sir,” she whispered, already breathless. She was keenly aware of the plug in her ass as she waited. Mark only called her ‘pet’ during playtime and in the ensuing months since they’d started dating, as if that was even the right word, just hearing it on his lips meant dark and fascinating things were going to happen. The man had more tricks up his sleeve than Houdini. All of them were sexual and nearly all of them ended with Abby having an earth-shattering orgasm. Then again, sometimes the orgasm was the foreplay.

“We have plans tonight,” he informed her.

Abby licked her lips nervously. Sometimes the plan for Friday night was simply hanging out at Maria’s. Sometimes, however, Tex wanted to stay home and play. She could guess which he had in mind.

“And tomorrow,” he said surprising her. “So pack an overnight bag.”

Abby listened as he told her to go home and shower and put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “Be comfortable,” he said.

She sighed in relief. She didn’t know what Mark had in mind, but if he wanted her comfortable then that was a good sign. It meant nothing too scary or nerve wracking.

“You don’t have to pack your play collar,” he said, surprising her yet again as well as disappointing her a bit too, honestly. “But pet?”