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Memories of her fill my mind and I stir from a deep sleep.
I think of soft, smooth, silky skin covered with the scent of magnolia mixed with feminine mystique.
I had her perfect body molded against mine all night, and those beautiful breasts with dusty rose nipples were either bouncing in my face or in my mouth.
I devoured every inch of the beauty and, fuck, do I ever want her again.
The conscious thought makes my dick twitch and harden. My awareness returns and I reach across the bed for her. My eyes are still shut but the last time I did this she was right next to me.Ready for me.
My hands come away with nothing, so I open my eyes and turn onto my side findingnothing.
The only thing that greets me is the sight of rumpled sheets where she previously lay.
I sit up and look around the room. The clock on the wall says it’s one p.m. and from the quietness in the suite I can tell I'm alone. Nevertheless I still get off the bed, pull on my boxers, and look around for her.
Again I find nothing. Not even a trace of her.
She left.
Damn…
I lean against the door frame and gaze through the glass wall at the array of hotels and other buildings in my view.
I’m no stranger to one-night stands, so I’m well versed in the unwritten rules of leaving the morning after.
This is the moment where I’d usually be grateful the girl is gone and I’ve been saved from being a mega-asshole when I try to get rid of her.
Except… I’m not grateful, and I think this could have been the one time I wanted more. Even something small, like getting Venus’ real name.
I didn’t want her to leave.
Jesus… listen to me.
This isn’t my style and I didn’t come to Vegas to find a woman.
I don’t do relationships, or anything for more than a few days, so what was so different about this girl?
The answer comes the moment I ask myself the question.
It washer.
She didn’t know who I was and wanted to be with me because of me. Not because of my name, my power, or my prestige.
None of that existed for her.
Aside from that, there was something about her that parted the gateways to all my rules, but it was all for nothing because I don’t even know who she was.
Great job, Luc.
What kind of idiot am I? And I landed in my own trap.
I wanted the whole no-names thing, and I wanted her. I just never expected to wake up and continue wanting her.
When she tried to find out who I was I only withheld telling her because nice girls like her don’t usually go for guys like me—hockey jocks.
I felt that if she recognized my name and linked me to the billionaire playboy most people label me, she would have turned me down.
At the very least I kept something to remember her by.
