One of her hands left the rail to reach between her legs, and then mine, scoring her nails softly against my scrotum.

I bent over, biting her bare shoulder, my hands moving up her body, under her shirt to grip her bouncing br**sts as I finished myself off, one hand moving down to her cl*t and working it furiously until she followed me.

We didn’t leave that suite for two days.

It wasn’t until late on the second day, as we swam na**d in the pool, lingering at the edge, watching Sin City below us, that she told me how she’d gotten the room, though I’d asked her several times.

“I got caught counting cards here,” she finally explained.

I was a bit floored by that, though I shouldn’t have been.

All of the signs were there.

“It was my own fault. I know better than to try at the bigger casinos. They have people watching that know what to look for. Also, I let it go too far. I won thirty grand before they caught me, which was another mistake. I should have quit at the ten-k mark.”

“Holy shit,” I said, still processing the whole thing. I wasn’t sure why I was so shocked.

It was so Iris.

“I’m surprised they didn’t arrest you.”

“It’s not, strictly speaking, illegal. It usually just gets you banned from whatever property caught you, which they were nice enough not to do. But they did confiscate my winnings. And they put me up in here for three nights, though if I sit down at a table, I’ll be escorted out.”

I laughed. Only Iris.

But the more I thought about it, the more I didn’t find it funny. “Is this counting cards habit of yours the reason someone tried to have you killed?”

Now that she found funny. “I can see where you might connect those dots, but no, not at all. Like I said, my life is messy. Always has been.”

I moved behind her, watching the city over her shoulder. “You should just come home with me and stay there. Whatever it is you’re scared of, it wouldn’t follow you there. You’d be safe. All you have to do is stay.”

She sighed, her head falling back on my shoulder. “I’d like that.”

I bent to kiss her neck. “So you’ll do it? You’ll stay with me?”

She turned and started kissing me, her arms wrapping tight around my neck. She pulled back just long enough to murmur, “God willing, someday I will.”

We spent our last evening in the suite in bed, watching television, just like old farts.

The TV was tuned into a news station when I stepped out of the restroom. This was unusual, for Iris, but I saw that she was just switching past as I came into the room.

Something had caught my attention, though, and I asked her to switch it back as I moved to join her on the bed.

She did without a word, and my jaw clenched as I saw that it was as I’d suspected.

There was a picture in the top corner of the screen of a girl of twelve or thirteen, with black hair, sporting thick glasses and a studious look. It must have been an old picture, from maybe four or five years ago.

The newscaster was droning on about today being the one year anniversary of her death, due to a tragic car accident.

It made my chest tight.

“I knew her,” I told Iris, as I climbed into bed beside her.

“Oh yeah? The VP’s daughter?” she asked, sounding mildly curious.

“Yes. My mother was, or is, close friends with the vice president. I can’t claim the same, but we spent some time with her family, and I do remember the daughter. The sweetest girl. Very bright. So much potential. Such a tragedy.” I couldn’t keep the quaver from my voice. Her death still affected me, more than I cared to talk about, but I’d grown used to sharing things like this with Iris.

I glanced over at her.

She looked bored, playing with her nails, so I grabbed the remote and quickly switched the station, looking for one of her horrible shows.

“Is this a good one?” I asked her.

It was the Real Housewives of something or other, I could tell, since she’d watched this type of show before.

“Perfect,” said Iris.

Though she barely watched it.

She climbed over to my lap and started sucking me off within seconds.

I tried to press the TV power button, but dropped the remote when her throat began hugging the tip of my cock.

“Jesus,” I muttered, one hand gripping hard into her hair.

She was sucking like there was no tomorrow, and I was growing inside her mouth by the second.

I palmed her breast with a groan, then shifted down on the bed far enough to start inching her h*ps toward my face, yanking her panties down as I went.

She fisted my shaft and scored the nails of her other hand softly over my balls as I finally lifted her lower half by the h*ps until she was on top of me.

I went to town on her cl*t with my tongue and jammed two fingers into her, pinching her hard ni**les, squeezing them roughly, how I’d learned she liked it.

I came first, and she milked me dry while I did my best to make her follow in a hurry.

And she did, shuddering on top of me with her sweet little cries of ecstasy.

She rolled off me onto her back, and exhausted, I crawled on top, nuzzling into her br**sts, kissing my way up to her mouth, licking inside as I burrowed my spent c**k against her wet cunt.

I was emptied, done, but I wanted every part of me to touch every part of her. It was much more than the drive for sex. I knew that now.

It was a craving for intimacy that made this thing between us so unquenchable for me.