CHAPTER 27 Miller Banks
How the Hell am I Supposed to Pay Attention
We take an Uber back to the hotel with the garments in hand. Asher had a button-down black shirt and gray slacks for me to borrow. Admittedly, the pants are a little tight around my thighs, but so long as I don’t try to bust a move on the dance floor, it should be fine.
I’m not sure what Desi lent Sophie since it’s in a garment bag, but I have a feeling it’ll be hot as fuck on Sophie no matter what it is.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep my paws to myself when I just want to get her naked, but we do have show tickets in an hour, so we don’t have a ton of time to kill.
We get back to our hotel, and she locks herself in the bathroom with her makeup bag and a curling iron as I change clothes.
I’m ready in about twenty-three seconds while she takes over half an hour to get ready.
When she steps out of the bathroom, it was well worth the wait.
She’s wearing a black and gold metallic long-sleeve short dress with a deep V-neck down the front that’s cut so low I’m going to have my eyes on her tits all night to see whether they’re spilling out of her dress or not.
She has black heels on that give her five inches of height, and she’s still a couple inches shorter than me, but fuck if I don’t want those legs wrapped around me with those heels on while I slam into her.
Her makeup is dark and edgy for a night out, and her hair is pulled back into a dramatic ponytail with long curls cascading down.
How the hell am I supposed to keep it in my pants when she looks like that?
Fuck, man.
“Wow, Soph,” I breathe, finally able to make my mouth work.
“You look gorgeous.” I want to walk across the room and pull her into my arms, but I’m not sure we’re there.
We’re fucking, and we’re getting married, but the act of pulling her into my arms while I drool over how beautiful she is feels more intimate than the level we’re at.
It makes no sense.
She shakes her head back and forth, playfully swinging her ponytail behind her, and she winks at me. “You look pretty handsome yourself, Mr. Banks.”
I glance at my watch. “You ready? And can you walk in those shoes?”
She laughs. “Get me enough vodka, and my feet will numb to any feeling.”
We head down the hallway, and she links her arm through mine to hold onto me for balance. I smell her fresh, fruity, summer garden scent just as I feel her tit brush against my arm, and my already hard cock takes notice as an ache pings through my entire system.
I press the button to call the elevator, and she doesn’t move from my side where she’s still clutching my arm.
I lean down and press a kiss to her temple because I need my mouth somewhere on her, and she glances up at me.
She catches my lips with hers, and my chest seems to light up with anticipation for this night.
It’s like we’re on a date. It’s like we leapt over a few levels of dating straight toward the aisle, and I’m so goddamn confused about where we are and what we are while I’m trying to just live in the moment and get the fuck out of my head.
I’m not a get out of my head kind of guy, though.
I’m analytical, and so I’ll analyze the fuck out of any situation.
It’s one of the things I share in common with my half-brother Spencer.
Well, that and the fact that I’m an adult who enjoys building Lego sets, though I have nowhere near the collection Spencer and Grace do, and I tend to donate my sets after I build them.
We arrive at the theater where our show is, and we swing by the bar first. The lady asked for vodka to numb her feet, and she orders a Moscow mule. I get a Jack and Coke, and then we head inside the theater.
We’re seated on the second level right in the middle of a row, and as the theater lights go down, I reach over and set a hand on Sophie’s thigh. She shivers as she leans into me a little, and I glance over at her.
“Are you cold?”
“A little chilly,” she admits, and she holds up the ice-cold drink in her hand. I take it and set it in the cup holder, and then I set my hand back on her thigh—just a little higher this time, and I try to cover more of her exposed leg with my hand to give her warmth.
She wraps her arms around my arm and pulls it into her chest, and I feel her tits brush against me again. I chug down my Jack and Coke. I can’t sit beside her with all this heat flying between us and not fucking do something about it.
It’s dark up on our level. Nobody would see if I slipped my hand beneath her dress…would they ?
Nobody’s watching us. All eyes are focused ahead on the stage as the show begins. It’s one of the Cirque du Soleil shows, a contemporary visual arts circus with dancing and acrobatics, and it’s somehow also sexy as we watch a woman pining for her man through the art of dance.
But how the hell am I supposed to pay attention when all I can focus on is how Sophie smells beside me?
How she feels against my arm as she clutches it to her chest?
How much I want to rip that hot-as-fuck dress from her body, pull her on top of my dick, and fuck her until neither one of us can see straight?
I inch my palm up a little more along her thigh, and I glance over at her. She’s watching the show intently. I should be, too.
There will be time later for the things I want to do to her.
She glances over at me and offers a warm smile, and I let out a small breath.
Later, Banks. Pull yourself together .
I manage to sit through the show without moving my hand, but it’s all I can think about. It’s a pure obsession with the woman beside me, and I know how dangerous this is.
But I can’t stop how I feel. I’m finally getting to act on the way I’ve felt about her, and it’s overwhelming.
The show comes to an end, and everyone around us moves to a standing ovation. I don’t want to get up. Getting up means I’m breaking the connection my palm has with her thigh and her arms have around mine, and I’m not ready to give that up.
When I look over at her, she lets go of my arm and instead sets her hand on my jaw. She leans toward me and presses a soft kiss to my lips, and it’s the reassurance I need that this is real.
Somehow, it’s real.
She pulls back and offers me a small smile, and then we both stand and clap for the performance. People start to file out of our row, and we follow suit. She’s right behind me, close enough that I can feel her heat, and I like having her so close.
Scratch that. I love it.
We move out into the aisle, and she grabs my hand. I’m not sure if it’s because she wants to be physically close to me, too, or if it’s so we don’t lose each other in the crowd. Either way, I’m not complaining.
We make it out into the lobby, and it’s a mass of people all moving toward the exit. And that’s when I hear my name beside me. “Are you Miller Banks?”
I glance over to see a man close to my age, and I nod as I reach out a hand to give him one of those universal bro-shakes. “Nice to meet you.”
He grins. “I’m a huge fan of you and your brother. I’ve been following your career since the college days. I played for the U of A,” he says, naming the university in Tucson that was the biggest rival of the university we attended in Tempe.
“Ah, bitter rivals. Were you there when we were at ASU?”
He nods. “Jason Dale,” he says, giving me his name. “I was a senior when you two were freshmen. I was a linebacker, and I got a good tackle in on you once. But you were so goddamn fast, I had a hard time bringing you down. Congrats on all your success, man. You both deserve it.”
The name isn’t familiar, but I don’t remember the name of every opponent I faced once over my entire career. “I appreciate that. Are you still in Arizona?”
He shakes his head. “Chicago now, and I don’t play anymore. But I’ve enjoyed watching you two. This is my wife, Carly,” he says, slinging his arm around her as we continue our slow crawl toward the exit.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, nodding at Carly. I wrap my arm around Sophie and introduce her next. “My fiancée, Sophie.”
“Hey, would you two want to grab a drink?” he asks.
I feel bad declining, but honestly I don’t know this guy, and I don’t owe him anything.
Besides, I’m on the lookout for a dark hallway or bathroom or somewhere that I can take my fiancée for a little one-on-one private time.
“I wish we could, but we have plans,” I say, and he nods.
“Of course, man. It was great meeting you,” he says.
“You too.” We split up at that point as we head out a different set of doors than they do, and I continue to hold onto Sophie as I glance around the casino. “You mentioned a club. You ready?”
“Let’s do it,” she says, and I get the feeling she’s not talking about going to a club but that we’re on the same page about finding a dark hallway.
As it turns out, the club is the perfect place.
Sort of.
It’s dark in here, the flashing lights contained mainly to the dance floor. Since money talks, we wind up in a private corner booth with tall walls. Our drinks arrive quickly, and we toast to the night and guzzle a bit before I lean over and press my lips to Sophie’s neck.
“Mm,” she moans. The sound is soft and eaten by the loud music, but I still hear it, and it sends a shot of need straight to my cock.
I trail my lips up her neck until my mouth is on hers, and suddenly we’re making out in the dark corner booth at a club.
I slide my hand up her thigh, and nobody will see since a tablecloth drapes over our table on the other side.
I move up her thigh toward her hip in search of panties I can rip from her body, but I can’t find the fabric.
I move my hand lower and between her legs, forcing her legs to fall open a little, and all I feel there is skin. That’s when I pull back from our kiss, and my eyes meet hers .
“Are you…not wearing panties?” I ask, my voice hoarse and low.
A gleam lights up her eyes as she snags her bottom lip between her teeth. “Haven’t been all night, and I kept wondering when you’d make that discovery.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, and my mouth falls back to hers as my fingers move down. I slide one finger into her, and she squeaks into my mouth. I shove that finger in again and again, grateful for the darkness, grateful for a little alcohol, grateful that I’m here with her.
She reaches over and runs her hand along the outside of my pants, and I shove my hard cock at her, the need for release tearing through me as we do this private act in a public space.
This isn’t me. I’ve never been the guy who fingers a girl in a dark booth in the corner of a club, but I’ve also never been with someone who ignites my passion the way Sophie does.
She drops her head to my shoulder, and she kisses the side of my neck as I hear her whispered pleas. “Oh God, Miller, yes, yes! I’m coming!”
Jesus. Her needy voice is low in my ear as she rubs my cock, and I feel her sweet pussy drenching my hand is too much. It’s overwhelming in the best way, and I do everything I can to hold off the inevitable, but it’s impossible.
As I feel her pussy clench tightly around my finger and she comes on my hand, I lean down to kiss her, and then I give into the feel of her hand on the outside of my pants, rubbing me the way she is. I pull back and drop my head to lightly bite her shoulder as I start to come.
I growl near her ear as I rasp, “Fuck, Soph, you’re making me come so hard for you. I only wish I was inside you right now.”
She pulls back, surprised and definitely a little dazed as she rubs harder along my cock, and I close my eyes and lean my head back on the booth as I give in to the sheer perfection of having this woman’s hands on me in any way I can get them.
“God, I want that again, too,” she murmurs near my ear as my body starts to slip into the warm tingling that comes with the euphoric feeling after a climax.
I sit up and open my eyes, and I lick the finger I just had inside her as her eyes zero in on what I’m doing.
“Did you just…?” she asks.
I nod and lean in toward her. “And it was fantastic.” I hold my finger up. “Want to try?”
She shakes her head. “No, but why is seeing you do it making me need sex with you immediately?”
I grab my whiskey. “Give me ten to fifteen minutes.”
She lets out a small chuckle. “What is it about you that I can’t get enough of?”
“My charm?”
“That and the cock,” she says.
God, I love her.
Is this perfection? Because it feels an awful lot like it.