you've relived imminent death in your own head a hundred times from that mission, making a mockery of it's all you've got left.
It's all I can do to keep my sanity together. The brain clings to humor like a desperate fucking lounge girl – or at least if it's a mind as twisted as mine.
Her eyes pop out when she sees the hotel. We've got a prime spot, courtesy of daddy's family fortune. She reaches across from the passenger seat and squeezes my arm, digging her nails in. It shouldn't feel so natural to have her there, but hell if it doesn't.
“Look at this place! Please tell me I've got a window view?”
I smile and nod. “Yup. Your old man wanted to give my mom the finest, for some reason I'll never understand, and we've got his reservation. Oh, and that shit about separate rooms? I lied. We'll be sharing the same suite.”
Her lips twitch and she goes bright red. I pop the door and put my hand on her ass, pushing her inside, leading her through the place we'll be staying for the next week. One good look around, and she forgets all about chewing me out.
The room is built for sex. It's full of sleek edges, polished curves, and about a thousand reflective surfaces. It's meant for beautiful people to watch themselves fucking from every angle, and we fit the bill a hundred times better than our parents.
We'll put it to better use than Bruce and Evie too. The only question is whether I'm going to blister my ego and haul her into bed, or find some faceless Vegas chick to fuck when she's not looking.
Sneaking around with another woman won't be easy when we're sharing a suite, even though it's as big as a luxury apartment, with at least two or three distinct rooms and its own kitchen.
It's also rough when the only hot, wet cunt I want to sink my dick into is Delia's, own her virgin silk, find out how hot she looks when she's wearing a sheen of sweat, about to come for the third time as I slam my balls against her ass.
Fuck. I wait for her to wash up and try to kill my hard-on, staring out across the city. It's a gorgeous view. The place promises to light up like a maze of palaces and wonders at night, everything I've seen in Baghdad, but better because there's no traces cutting through the air or violent explosions here.
Standing out on the balcony isn't doing shit for taming my dick. Several long, sexy looking deck chairs sit waiting for us, and I'm forced to see myself pulling her onto my lap, naked and wet and wanting in the sultry Vegas night.
When she comes out of the bathroom, she's fuming, a delayed reaction to the single room we'll have to share. I wonder if she's been coaching herself in the mirror, working up the courage to lay into me, and I laugh.
“This is so wrong. I just can't fucking believe dad didn't think to book an extra room. Ugh.” She stamps her little foot as I hand her a key card for the room. “Roommates.”
“For the last time, babe, I'm not gonna watch you shower or whatever. I'll turn my back like a good boy when you're changing.”
Yeah, right. She shoots me a dirty look and purses her lip. Some of that fire in my balls goes straight to my fingers, and I want to wipe that bratty look off her face by slapping the shit out of her ass.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Maybe Kirkuk did more damage than I ever thought. There's got to be some wires crossed in my head if I'm hot to tan my own stepsister's ass, and then plow her 'til she can't walk.
“Cut your old man some slack. Dealing with Evie's shit isn't easy. Doesn't take much to lose track of a million things when she gets under your skin – trust me.”
Her eyes widen in a sympathetic look. That shuts her up, but I pop the door and head inside, looking for a distraction before she tries to get all touchy-feely.
She decides to let it go, turning her attention to the room instead, taking another long, wonder struck walk around it like we're visiting the goddamned Taj Mahal.
“Oh my God. Look!” she yells at me from out on the
It's all I can do to keep my sanity together. The brain clings to humor like a desperate fucking lounge girl – or at least if it's a mind as twisted as mine.
Her eyes pop out when she sees the hotel. We've got a prime spot, courtesy of daddy's family fortune. She reaches across from the passenger seat and squeezes my arm, digging her nails in. It shouldn't feel so natural to have her there, but hell if it doesn't.
“Look at this place! Please tell me I've got a window view?”
I smile and nod. “Yup. Your old man wanted to give my mom the finest, for some reason I'll never understand, and we've got his reservation. Oh, and that shit about separate rooms? I lied. We'll be sharing the same suite.”
Her lips twitch and she goes bright red. I pop the door and put my hand on her ass, pushing her inside, leading her through the place we'll be staying for the next week. One good look around, and she forgets all about chewing me out.
The room is built for sex. It's full of sleek edges, polished curves, and about a thousand reflective surfaces. It's meant for beautiful people to watch themselves fucking from every angle, and we fit the bill a hundred times better than our parents.
We'll put it to better use than Bruce and Evie too. The only question is whether I'm going to blister my ego and haul her into bed, or find some faceless Vegas chick to fuck when she's not looking.
Sneaking around with another woman won't be easy when we're sharing a suite, even though it's as big as a luxury apartment, with at least two or three distinct rooms and its own kitchen.
It's also rough when the only hot, wet cunt I want to sink my dick into is Delia's, own her virgin silk, find out how hot she looks when she's wearing a sheen of sweat, about to come for the third time as I slam my balls against her ass.
Fuck. I wait for her to wash up and try to kill my hard-on, staring out across the city. It's a gorgeous view. The place promises to light up like a maze of palaces and wonders at night, everything I've seen in Baghdad, but better because there's no traces cutting through the air or violent explosions here.
Standing out on the balcony isn't doing shit for taming my dick. Several long, sexy looking deck chairs sit waiting for us, and I'm forced to see myself pulling her onto my lap, naked and wet and wanting in the sultry Vegas night.
When she comes out of the bathroom, she's fuming, a delayed reaction to the single room we'll have to share. I wonder if she's been coaching herself in the mirror, working up the courage to lay into me, and I laugh.
“This is so wrong. I just can't fucking believe dad didn't think to book an extra room. Ugh.” She stamps her little foot as I hand her a key card for the room. “Roommates.”
“For the last time, babe, I'm not gonna watch you shower or whatever. I'll turn my back like a good boy when you're changing.”
Yeah, right. She shoots me a dirty look and purses her lip. Some of that fire in my balls goes straight to my fingers, and I want to wipe that bratty look off her face by slapping the shit out of her ass.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Maybe Kirkuk did more damage than I ever thought. There's got to be some wires crossed in my head if I'm hot to tan my own stepsister's ass, and then plow her 'til she can't walk.
“Cut your old man some slack. Dealing with Evie's shit isn't easy. Doesn't take much to lose track of a million things when she gets under your skin – trust me.”
Her eyes widen in a sympathetic look. That shuts her up, but I pop the door and head inside, looking for a distraction before she tries to get all touchy-feely.
She decides to let it go, turning her attention to the room instead, taking another long, wonder struck walk around it like we're visiting the goddamned Taj Mahal.
“Oh my God. Look!” she yells at me from out on the
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