VERY Short Romantic Story: Vegas


The sun was driving through the window of the hotel room and straight into my brain.  Turning away, I saw the dark head beside me in bed and stilled instantly. 

Who the fuck was this?

Struggling to remember the night before, I managed random snapshots of dancing, drinking, and sex.  Extremely hot sex.  Sex I’d never experienced in thirty-four years.  Sex my ex-husband would have sold his soul to deliver. 

Name.  What is his fucking name?

I got nothing and felt panic rising as the object of my confusion stirred.  Bright blue eyes stared at me, a smug grin framing perfect white teeth.  “Good morning,” the sex god said with a deep voice that provoked muscle memory between my legs instantly.  Holy shit.

What to say?  “Er…” I managed and it caused dimples – fucking dimples – to pop in his cheeks as his grin got bigger.

“Don’t remember my name, do you?”  I closed my eyes in mortification and shook my head once.  “What do you remember, Lena?”  Fuck, he knew my name and what I remembered, well, I felt the heat blaze over my face.  He rolled toward me on his side and the vision of male beauty that greeted me struck me dumb.  Dumber than the excessive alcohol had obviously made me.  “Ah.  So you do remember the hours of sex.  Excellent.”

“Oh my god, did I pay you?”

One blink followed by a long silence.  “You think I’m a male whore?”

The nervous…alright hysterical titter that left my lips was something I’d never heard from myself.  “Look at you.  What the hell would you be doing in bed with me?”  Just thinking about that made me tighten my fingers around the sheet that covered me.  Sudden realization struck, “You were drunk, too.  Right?”  Beer goggles totally explained it.

His face tensed and he lifted up on his elbow.  Reaching out, he snatched the sheet from my numb fingers and met my gaze directly.  His palm stroked over my upper body and I cringed at what he was seeing in harsh daylight.  I worked from home, ate erratically, and hadn’t seriously worked out since college.  I was considered chunky by my mom, society, and my ex. 

When he spoke, his voice was almost hard and he never looked away from me.  “I don’t drink.  I don’t usually hook up with random women.  I saw you drinking alone and you spilled your life story.  A story I’d like to hear more of.  Especially since you have Marilyn Monroe curves, Lena.  You are beautiful, lush, and currently making me hard.”  Moving, he settled between my thighs and added in a whisper, “I’m here for a restaurant convention, I live in Phoenix, and I’m unmarried as well as sane.  My name is Kevin Judd.  Allow me to introduce myself…again.”

As he rocked his hips forward I realized two things.  He was hung like a horse and I was wearing a gold band on my left hand that hadn’t been there the night before.  “Nice to meet you, Kevin.  I’m Lena Davis…Judd?”  He smiled and both of us stopped talking.

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