“Freedom?” I whisper, grateful everyone around us seems to be lost in their own conversations.
“Yes?” Her warm breath hits me square in the neck and sends a shiver through my body. My overly heated, too responsive body.
“Why are you on my lap?”
“Why are you keeping the popcorn from me?”
Realizing I’m still holding it up and out of her reach, I lower the tub, setting it between us. Freedom dives right in and doesn’t seem to care at all that she’s still sitting on my lap, practically straddling my erection and munching on popcorn like it’s no big deal. “Oh, you added extra butter salt, didn’t you?” she asks between bites. Usually, I’d be a little grossed out and a whole lot offended if a woman devoured her food, licking her fingers, and moaning in orgasmic food delight, but not this time. This time, I’m aroused. So fucking aroused, and the worst part is my mom is sitting right beside me.
I clear my throat, that fact like a cold bucket of water thrown on my head, and move Freedom off my lap. She doesn’t really say anything, or seem to notice for that matter, and continues licking the butter salt off her fingers and sipping her beer. No, not sipping. Ladies sip. Freedom devours. She consumes, and again, I don’t understand why that image kicks my libido into overdrive.
“So, you don’t like magic,” she says between bites. “Why not? Scared as a young, impressionable child?”
I take my own drink of beer, grimacing a little at the brand I’m not too fond of. “No, nothing like that. Magic is just an illusion. It’s not real.”
“But it’s real fun to watch, even if it’s as fake as Darci Montgomery’s tits.”
Her words register a split second before the beer in my mouth comes back out. Everyone turns to look at me as I try to wipe the wetness from my chin. Thank Christ no one was sitting in the seats in front of us yet, or they’d be wearing piss beer all over the backs of their heads. “Jesus, Freedom.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s true. She claimed she was away to some fancy spa for a long girls’ weekend, but we all know where she was. No one goes to the spa a B-cup and returns a D with pointy nipples. If that doesn’t scream surgically enhanced, I don’t know what does.”
“If you say so,” I mumble, refusing to think about Darci’s breasts. Instead, my mind slithers on over to another pair. Ones that are small, yet perky and would fit perfectly in my palm.
No, Samuel. We are not thinking about Freedom’s breasts.
Oh, yes, we are.
And they’re fucking fabulous.
I inwardly groan just as the stage goes dark. Everyone files into their seats and the show begins, the magician taking the stage. Freedom whistles—you know, one of those eardrum piercing loud noises that makes dogs howl—and claps her hands, spilling her beer. On my pantleg. There’s no time for me to grumble or even brush off the excessive liquid as Mr. Copperfield starts to perform.
Admittedly, his show is fascinating, even if it is all a complete pile of crap. The crowd is enthralled, especially Freedom. The bright lights of the stage seem to reflect in her eyes, lighting up her entire pretty face as much as her smile does. I find myself studying her profile, from her narrow chin to her high cheekbones. She’s wearing minimal makeup, as always, and has her hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She’s wearing at least four necklaces and twice as many bracelets, and on anyone else, it would probably look at little weird. But on Freedom, it looks…normal. Pretty. Sexy, even.
“Las Vegas is the birthplace of sin and love. Might I have one lovely couple come on stage and assist me with my next trick?” David says to the crowd, and just about every hand in the joint flies in the air. “Ahh, yes, you two. Come on up,” he adds, pointing down our row. I realize it’s my sister and future brother-in-law who are being escorted onto the stage for the next part of David’s show.
Freedom lets another whistle fly as our family cheers for Harper and Latham. He has her hand as he helps her navigate the stairs and step onto the stage. “Good evening. You are?”
“I’m Harper and this is my fiancé, Latham,” my sister practically beams at the famous magician.
“Fiancé, huh? You sure you want to marry this guy?” David asks, clearly teasing, but getting a huge rise from the audience.
“I do,” she giggles. Latham, on the other hand, pulls my sister into his side and seems to size up the man in front of him.
“When’s the big day?” Mr. Copperfield asks, as his assistant brings out the tools for his next bit.
“Tomorrow evening,” Latham announces proudly.
“Tomorrow, huh? Still plenty of time to change your mind,” David says, nudging my sister and giving her a wink. “You know, if say, Latham here…disappeared!”
The crowd goes wild at the concept of watching Latham disappear, while the look on his face isn’t so lighthearted. Latham looks a little concerned, in fact, and I admit, it matches my own feelings.
“Latham,” David starts, throwing his arm over Latham’s shoulder and guiding him toward the big box in the middle of the stage. “You’re going to go for a little…ride. But don’t worry, I’ll bring you back!”
The crowd explodes with excitement as Latham steps up to the large, white box in the middle of the stage. Before Latham even knows what’s happening, he’s being blindfolded by the assistant, and shoved inside the box, with lid ready to close. “Give your fiancée a kiss goodbye,” David announces with a laugh.
Then, the lid shuts and Harper is left on the stage with a big white box and a magician who’s about to make her fiancé vanish. “Harper, sweetheart, you’re going to do the honors. Are you ready? We’re going to count
