Nothing cures depression like tits in your face.

The stripper shakes her chest an inch from my nose. I grip my cash, wishing I could grip her instead. She tugs on the side of her g-string. My fingers drag over her mound when I tuck the bill into it. "Thank you," she says and slowly climbs off me. I hate to see her go but . . . you get it.

Vegas is always lit, but it's hard for me to stay present when my mind's going in circles about what's happening at home. I can't know anything for certain unless she tells me or I go find out for myself. It gave me more of a reason to leave my phone in the room and make the absolute most of this trip.

Ryan looks like a virgin at an orgy. His eyes are a mile wide, his face red as a beet. He stares at every girl who walks by and looks flustered each time one stops for him. I constantly find myself wondering if he saved himself for his wedding night.

I smack the back of my hand against his chest. "Bro! Loosen up, this is supposed to be your night!" I yell over the music.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! What's up with you?"

"Nothing! Well . . ." He stares at me for a moment too long, his face twisted up like someone told him his dog in middle school didn't actually run away. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" he asks.

I roll my eyes. "It's a strip club, not a brothel. Here," I hand him my cup, "drink this. It'll help."

He takes it with a nod. The first sip makes him grimace. A good sign.

Beside us, Brett is getting his life, blowing all his money, and getting us the attention of half the girls in the club. I'd take advantage of that if I wasn't counting down my last fifty dollars.

I throw back my beer and glance over at Teagan who is going up for the strippers the way she always does. She moves her little body to the beat, tossing cash onto a stripper's ass as she twerks in front of her. My tongue traces the rim of my bottle while I stare. The stripper turns around and climbs onto Tegan's lap, saying something that makes Teagan give that shut up and fuck me smile. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she slides one of her hands over Teagan's breast and gives it a squeeze. Girls always get to have more fun in here.

Teags puts a bill between her teeth, the fold down the middle brings the stripper's lips just an inch from hers when she takes it. The evil smirk on her face afterward makes me smile. She's wild.

It's fucking hot.

"Heath!" I look at Ritchie, who has two girls in his arms. "Come get a dance with me."

"Uh . . . Are you paying?"

He punches my arm. "Yes, cheap ass. Come on!"

. . .

The private room is quieter and calmer than the chaos of the main floor. The bouncer in the corner watches us like a hawk. It's uncomfortable, but it's not enough to keep my dick down.

"Do you think Ryan's a virgin?" Ritchie asks.

I laugh. "I have no fucking idea."

My girl grinds against my lap and leans back onto my shoulder. Her hands grip her tits and side between her legs. All the things I'd like to do.

"I think I'm gonna break up with Gigi."

"Huh?" That's random. I guess staring at someone else's ass might make you remember how little you want the one you're allowed to touch. "Why?"

"She's been on my case about this trip all month. She wouldn't even talk to me yesterday before we left."

Why does he think I care? Everyone has been praying for their toxic asses to break up for good. "That sucks."

"That's not even all of it."

I roll my eyes. My girl smirks when she sees. She climbs up and moves her hips over my lap, her pussy barely shielded by her shimmery thong. My little man reaches for it.

"She's done nothing but cry and bitch and cry for the last month. And now she got sick and is taking it all out on me."

"Sick?"

"Yeah, caught the flu or a stomach bug or something. Been asking me to hold her hair and shit. I don't wanna see that!"

A chill crawls over my skin. My mind creeps to places I don't want it to go. The reminder of what I've been pushing down sinks my mood into the floor. The familiar combination seems so obvious to me, but not to Ritchie.

"Could she be pregnant?" I ask him.

His face wrinkles with confusion. "What?"

"She's sick, upset, suddenly doesn't want you to leave . . . When was the last time she had her period?" I glance over and watch Ritchie stare off into space.

"Oh, fuck."

Drunk or not, he's a fucking idiot. "Maybe you should call her, bro."

"Yeah . . ." He lifts the girl from his lap and leaves the room.

The two women look annoyed while they watch him leave. The room suddenly feels more awkward than before.

"Um . . . I should probably go, too," I tell the one on my lap. "He paid you, right?"

She looks unamused when she turns around. "Yes, sweetheart. You'd be surprised how often your little conversation happens in here."

Yikes. I apologize for the both of us and awkwardly slink out of the room.

Back on the floor, Ritchie is crying to Brett in the booth. Ryan, confused out of his drunken mind, tugs at them, leading them away from the stage to the back of the room. Let them go. I have enough drama going on to want to be part of theirs.

Teags sits curled up in a booth alone, staring at something on her phone. I slide in next to her and fight my urge to wrap her up in my arms. Ritchie's shit really fucked with my head. I feel like I need a cuddle. A little hug at least. But I'll chew glass before I tell Teagan that.

"What's wrong with you?" she asks without looking at me.

Telling her what happened would ruin the night, so I lie. "I hate strip clubs."

"You don't seem like you do."

"They frustrate me."

"Sexually or otherwise?"

I prop my elbow onto the back of the booth, leaning my head onto my hand while I look at her. "Both."

With a sigh, she sets down her phone and lifts her arms to place them behind her head. The edge of her shirt lifts enough to show the arch of her lower back and the curve of the gift she disrespects by sitting on. When I look back up, her eyes trace me the way they do when she's about to read me for filth. "Everyone likes boobs, Heath. If you're mad you can't touch them, just say that."

With her body looking the way it is, the only thing I want to be touching is her. "You caught me."

I can tell she doesn't believe me, but I can't tell if she cares.

She drops an arm and tugs at the collar of my shirt. "Want to get out of here?" she asks.

"Yeah. I really do."

. . .

As worried as we were about getting caught on this trip, we've had zero problems. We left separately, but the guys were too busy making drunk suggestions to Ritchie at the bar to notice us. We made it back to the room and immediately, our clothes came off.

The room is dark, but the yellow glow from the city coming through the windows traces over her brown skin like a river of gold. Her head leans onto the back of the chair, her chest rising and falling with every circle of my tongue. The thankful brush of her hand over my hair and the shudder of her thigh in my grasp gets me high. Her warm, honey-sweet taste has me rock hard in my hand, but I want to savor every moment, every wet kiss, every pull of her little bud between my lips.

"Why are you so fucking good at this?" she breathes.

I smile against her. She only compliments me when I have her as fucked up as I am right now. After one more taste, I know I can't make it much longer. I dry my face with a kiss against her thigh, hip bone, and waist. Leaning up higher, I drag my tongue over her nipple before catching it between my lips. Her legs curl up against my sides and her hand wraps around me.

She nibbles her lips when she feels how hard I am. Half stroking me, half pulling me closer, her heavy eyes stare down at me with a look of desperation.

"Do you want me inside you?" I ask. With a little whimper, she nods. "Come sit on it," I tell her, pulling her hips from the chair.

She doesn't fight me. In a quick move, she stands and I sit. I lounge back and push my hips toward her. Looking at me over her shoulder, she places me against her and slowly sinks down onto my lap.

My eyes roll back when I feel her warmth stretch over me.

I hold her hips, guiding her into the angle we both want while she moves up and down. She cries out that beautiful sound, holding onto the arms of the chair for support while her body melts around mine. It's too much, the image of her, the sounds she makes. My blood rushes south, and my dick strains against her plush walls.

"Mmm, fuck," I say as quietly as I can manage, but all I want to do is thank everything in the universe for giving me this gift.

I move my hips forward, pushing myself deeper each time she sinks down. My head presses deep against her and her cry turns into a throaty moan. She likes that.

I keep going. The wet sounds every time I push deep make it impossible to hold on. Her cries quiet into a desperate humming, and I let myself go. A blinding rush flows through me. My head drops back against the chair, my soul feels like it leaves me with every shot into the condom. "Fu-uck."

I reach around and slide my hand between her thighs. Teagan's legs shake, and her pussy tightens around me. As I continue to spill, I thrust my hips up, stroking with everything I have left, circling my fingers against her until her body curls up with a wail.

I feel her body grip and release me. Her hand reaches down to hold mine in place, her fingers tracing mine to continue their circle, both of us shuddering with our orgasms.

The calm settles over me little by little. This feeling is better than being drunk, being high—better than both at the same time. Nothing melts my stress away like Teagan's pussy melting for me. Pussy in general, but Teagan's . . . Hers is hard to compete with.

I slide my hand down between her legs again. Feeling how slick she is everywhere, tracing her lips stretched around me.

She lets me slip from her, then leans back against my chest. Still sitting on my lap, her head drops onto my shoulder. Draped over me like this, the way the shadows trace the curved lines of her perfect body is a work of art. I wrap my arms around her waist, feeling her ribs heave under my palm with her breaths.

For the first time this week, I feel relieved. The gnaw of anxiety is replaced with the quiet hum of bliss.

As her breath calms, my filter fades. "I'm glad we did this."

She chuckles. "When are you not happy about getting laid?"

"No, I mean . . . The contract. Everything. I would have gone crazy this summer if we didn't decide to do this."

"Yeah, no." She sits up and looks back at me with a sneer. "Sharing a room is already pushing it. Keep killing my buzz with this reflective shit and I'll make your ass sleep on the floor." Her smirk displays the humor behind her words.

"My bad," I laugh, pushing her off my lap. I smack a hand against her ass when she walks away. "Round two?"

_____

What's wrong, Heath? Why are you a sad boy? 

Don't be sad. Get Glad! And toss me in one because I'm trash. Thanks for reading!