Zombie Lovin’
Zombies in Vegas Book 1
The Edge
by
Olivia Starke
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2012 by Olivia Starke
ISBN: 978-1-61333-252-8
Cover art by Fiona Jayde
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Look for us online at:
www.decadentpublishing.com
Also by Olivia Starke
The Edge Series
Her Moonlight Lover
Midnight Madness
1Night Stand Series
Familiar Desires
Coming Soon
Vegas is Dead, Baby
Living is Overrated
Dreaming in Blue
~DEDICATION~
As always, this is dedicated to my readers.
Some days it doesn’t pay to get out of bed, especially if you wake up with a corpse.
Her new companion had been the most watched man in the club, and Samantha Perry couldn’t help the sense of conquest when they stumbled into her hotel room. The room swayed and she had to clutch his shirt to stay on her feet.
“Watch out, baby.” His husky whisper brushed her ear, sending chills down her spine. “I think you’re a little drunk.”
She giggled. “You try walking in four-inch stilettos. I can barely manage these on the best of days.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough, but damn they’re sexy.”
Her hair clung around her shoulders, her blouse and jeans still damp. “How did I get so wet?” Her foggy memory offered no explanations.
“Such open ended questions you ask.” He captured her lips in a hot, distracting kiss. “So many answers I could give.”
He tugged the blouse over her head, pitched it aside, and placed his hands on her shoulders giving a gentle shove. She squealed, but luckily bounced, the bed breaking her fall.
She studied him, or tried to—her focus was a little off. “So what was it you were saying earlier, about the living dead something or other?”
Tugging her jeans off, he tossed them over his shoulder, drawing yet another giggle from Samantha. He gave her a lopsided grin. “You mean living while dead? We’ll have this discussion, but later.” He kissed her, his tongue pushing into her mouth, teasing her with short thrusts. “And I mean much, much later.”
He discarded his T-shirt and she focused on his smooth, well-developed pecs. She licked her lips and stroked a hand over her stomach then up to her breast, rubbing the peaked nipple through the satin of her bra. He watched with head tilted, his hand cupping the bulge beneath his fly.
“You have the body to drive a man crazy, all softness and curves.”
His voice vibrated through her, making her pussy ache. She moved her fingers down, slipped them beneath her G-string, and found her folds drenched. She slid within her slit and circled her clit, pushing the swirl of desire higher. Watching her with hungry eyes, he pulled his cock out and stroked up its length, rubbing the tip with his thumb, before sliding his hand back down. She squirmed, wanted him, needed every beautiful inch of his thick girth pounding inside her. She propped up on an elbow opening her thighs wider, rubbing her swollen clit faster, their gazes locked.
It was an unspoken contest, who could make who give in first, who could last the longest and not come. He jerked his hand down then back up, harder, taunting her. She rolled her nipple between her thumb and forefinger, shoving two fingers within her canal, imagining it was him thrusting deep inside her walls. She was ready to give and let him win the battle
She withdrew her fingers bringing them to her lips, licking her cream from her fingertips, while looking at him through her lashes. “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”
He moved fast and was over her, his cock pushing aside her panties. “Damn, you win.”
***
Samantha awoke to the cheery morning sun glaring through the open curtains, a dream hanging in bits and pieces in her memory. She was aroused, an uncomfortable telltale ache between her thighs. She tried to resurrect the dream, stealing a hand to her pussy and stroking her sensitized nether lips. A hot, naked guy with a nice big dick fucking me to oblivion…. Ugh. She squeezed her eyes shut and flung an arm across her face, a nagging headache ridding her of the hopes of a quick morning orgasm.
“Gawd, what did I drink last night?” She rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow, stiff muscles protesting movement. The pillowcase had the vague odor of chlorine, along with her tangled hair, and she crinkled her nose. With gentle fingertips, she palpated a lump just above her hairline and puzzled over it. Not finding a source in her fuzzy memory, she turned her attention to the present.
How late is it anyway? She plopped her head to the side, bringing her wrist eye level to check her watch. Her liquor addled brain took several moments to process what lay on the bed just beyond. Samantha gasped and scrambled backward, nearly falling off the mattress.
A naked man! Well, nude from the waist up at least—the lower half was covered by the thick polyester comforter, but she suspected if she peeked she’d see…. She lifted the edge and there it was in all its girthy amazingness—the cock of her dreams. Or at least the one she’d dreamed about last night. She dared to scan the hotel room. Men’s clothes strewn about, tangled with hers provided a screaming testament to those lost hours.
She clutched the comforter to her naked breasts. “Good grief, Samantha, what did you do?” Slapping a hand over her mouth, she glanced to her bed companion. He didn’t stir.
What now? Temptation suggested she place a foot on the stranger’s backside and shove him onto the floor. Listening to caution instead, she slid out of bed, dragging the comforter along for protection. She reached a hand to his broad back. Gathering her courage, prepared to run, she jabbed him with a finger. He didn’t stir.
Samantha cleared her raw throat with emphasis. “Hey you, wake up.”
No sign of life.
Damn it. Anger overtaking nerves, she snatched the nearest article of clothing—a white T-shirt that had to belong to the mystery guest—and pulled it over her head. Its spicy, musky scent tickled at the recesses of her mind, making her tingle all over and her nipples harden. She might not remember last night or the strange man, but her nerve endings did. So did the tenderness in her pussy. Tapping a fingertip to her chin, she considered her options. Sneak out, kick him to the curb, or straddle his hips and ride him into the sunset—or sunrise in this case.
Redirecting her thoughts, she walked over and grabbed his shoulder giving it a firm, though not entirely confident, shake. This wasn’t her first one-nighter, though this was the first time it’d caused amnesia. His unnaturally cold skin made her stomach sink to her toes; something was wrong. Staring wide eyed, she backed away from the bed. His handsome
features remained rigid; high cheekbones, lips just the right fullness, pale thick brows over eyes she wondered over. They’re blue…her dream teased her, and she dug for more of it, before shaking her head. His chest didn’t rise and fall with the natural rhythm of breathing.
“There’s no way I spent the night with a dead man. This is the hangover from hell.” She looked around the room for her cell phone to call 911 then snatched her jeans from the floor, searching the pockets. Her fumbling fingers dropped the pants twice. It wasn’t there. A low buzz sounded from beneath the bed, and she nearly jumped from her skin. The noise continued and Samantha swallowed bitter fear, taking slow, baby steps toward the bed with its morbid occupant, eyes on the floor, trying to block out peripheral vision.
“What is the dead guy going to do, jump up and say boo?” She groped in the dark, dusty space, coming up in triumph with the tiny black lifeline. Holding it up, she pushed a button and the text lit up. She kept her back purposefully to the corpse.
How was the date? He looked hawt!
Samantha’s fingers worked furiously over the keypad. Who did I come to the hotel with?
Several seconds ticked by. She tapped a foot against the plush carpet. An eerie quiet hung in the air, not even the moans of neighbors getting freaky disturbed the morning. Unusual for her stays in Vegas. She shifted foot to foot, the hairs on her neck rising, her runaway imagination creating all sorts of zombie apocalypse scenarios.
“No more horror movies for you, Samantha,” she muttered.
What do u mean? It’s the guy from the club, I gotta go chica. Let’s talk l8tr.
As usual, her best friend, Ella provided little help.
“Good morning.”
The deep male voice shattered the silence. Terror stole her ability to scream. Spinning around, she got her feet entangled in the clothing on the floor and landed flat on her ass. She scrambled crab-style away from the huge bed. The corpse leaned on its elbow, staring with bright blue—and apparently alive—eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, Samantha.” Swinging his legs over the mattress, he stood in glorious male nakedness. She worked her mouth like a dying fish, trying to find her voice.
“Who are you?” The words squeaked out. God Samantha, focus on his face not his…. Her gaze snapped northward; her nerve endings fired at the warmth in his gaze, sending a heated shiver over her flesh.
“I’m Jake,” the stranger said. “I’m surprised you don’t remember me.”
“What the hell? I-I thought you were dead.”
His eyes darkened to sapphire. Keep your eyes north of the border, Samantha. Keep your cool. Her cheeks flamed, but she refused to appear awkward. At least that was the plan.
Jake’s smile broadened, flashing perfect white teeth. “Dead? Well, I see you remember something from last night.”
She blinked. “What are you talking about? I don’t remember anything.”
He crossed muscular arms over his smooth, tanned chest and cocked his head. God, his biceps were the size of her thighs, and she was a curvy girl. She licked her lips and waited for some sort of explanation.
His brows knit. “I guess you really don’t know, do you?”
“All I remember is going to a club with my friend, Ella, and drinking some crazy shots. Flaming Kisses? I believe they were, anyway. Now, I’m here with you. Granted, if we had wild sex, I do wish I could recall it.” The soreness between her thighs begged her to remember.
His eyes glittering, he gave her a smug smile. “Oh, it was wild. I can give you a do-over if you’d like.”
She considered his offer. Hell, he was hotness times ten and it’d be a shame to let perfectly good morning wood go to waste. But she shook her head with determination. “So how and where did we meet?”
He reached a hand out; she realized she still sat on the floor like an idiot. Eyeing his long, tapered fingers, she used her own power to rise instead, fearing he’d still be ice cold—or worse—she’d drag him to the floor and have her way with him before she got her answers.
“You were pretty wasted by the time I got to the club. But I’m ashamed to say I was, too.” He flashed another pearly smile, and her pussy responded. She squeezed her thighs together; no doubt about it, her vibrator would need new batteries when she got home from her trip. Hell, she’d wear it out and have to buy a brand new one.
“We ended up taking a cab here.”
Made sense, but she had the strange feeling there was much more to the story.
Another concern popped forefront in her mind. “Oh crap, did we use a condom?” She looked around, hoping to see a discarded foil wrapper. A flash of memory popped into her mind—on my knees, his fingers tangled in my hair as I took his glans to the back of my throat.
“No, what’s the point?”
She gaped, snapped back to the present. “W-what do you mean what’s the point? What about diseases? I’m on the pill, and no offense or anything, but…but….”
He lifted a hand to silence her. “Samantha, there’s something I should tell you. Diseases aren’t an issue when you’re dead.”
Slack jawed once more, she stared into his serious face. “Come again?”
“I’m dead,” he stated with no hint of humor.
Seconds stretched between them, before she formed a reply. “No…crazy perhaps, but you’re very much alive.” She nodded her head to emphasize her point. Her gaze cast down his body. Mistake. Shit, he’s hung like a sex god. She found his jeans and pitched the pair in his direction. He gave in and tugged them up his long legs, leaving the top button undone—to torture her, she was sure. Her eyes focused on the happy trail leading from his navel, past that open button to….
Nibbling her bottom lip, she clasped her hands, rocking back on her heels. Hot or not, crazy guys did not make for good bedfellows in her experience. “Well, Jake, it’s time for you to go. I have a flight in a few hours.”
He frowned. “I’d really like to see you again.”
Like hell, gorgeous, crazy guy. “I don’t really have time for dating right now.”
“Is it because I’m dead?” He took a step toward her.
Oh wow. “Um, no, not at all. I mean I’m sure you can’t help that you’re….” She waved a hand up and down, unable to finish the statement.
“Actually, it is my fault that I’m dead. I took a dare to run naked through a hayfield fifty years ago. I got stung by a bee and went into anaphylactic shock.” He chuckled. “Never knew I was allergic, and back then in rural Kansas there was no hope for me.”
She took a step toward the hotel room door. Is crazy an STD? “Oh, well, what a terrible accident. Most unfortunate.” Another step, damn her phone still lay on the floor where she’d last used it. There was a padded room somewhere with Jake written all over it.
He mirrored her steps. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Look, I can prove it.” His hand snaked out, but she countered and dodged. Her back came up against the doorframe of the bathroom. His fingers circled her wrist; she did her best to wrench away, but he held firm.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Samantha,” he pleaded. “Please calm down.” He pulled her clenched fist to his pectoral muscle and held it there.
“Let me go.” Anxiety mounted, exit strategies tumbling over one another and her libido kicked into overdrive at the idea of how easily he could shove her against the wall and fuck her senseless.
“Just open your hand and feel for my heartbeat.” His lips curved into a soft smile while he pried at her fingers with sensual strength. She glared at him, placing her palm across the cool skin, humoring the psycho. There was no resounding thud beneath his ribcage.
She shook her head, “What the…?”
She lifted her free hand, placing it over his other pec. After a few moments her fingers found the strong column of his neck, pressing his jugular vein.
Logical reasons escaped her. “This is insane. How is it possible?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“Now that you know I’m telling the truth, can I see you again?”
A six foot tall, sexy, blue-eyed Adonis—of course she should say yes, but the word stuck in her throat. He reached out, stroking a stray strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Endearing, but dating a dead guy would be complicated, and complications were things she liked to avoid.
“I really do wish you could remember last night. It was special to me.” He held up his hand when she screwed her face. “And no, I’m not just saying that. You’re a pretty special girl.” His honest Midwestern appeal tugged at her jaded West Coast heart.
Before she could mount an argument, his lips found hers. They were confident, yet begged her to make the next move. Her body responded, taking the decision from her. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He grasped her by the waist, pulling her tight to his pelvis. Their lips and tongue began a sensual dance and before she knew it, the backs of her thighs bumped into the mattress. Déjà vu struck when he pushed her hips back, her butt landing on the bed. He dropped to his knees, burying his face at the junction of her thighs. She gasped as his tongue stroked the trimmed thatch of hair nestled above her pussy.
“You loved this last night; you were so wet for me.” His mouth covered her slit and she arched into his face.
“Oh, Jake.” She writhed, his tongue searching deeper into her folds. How could she not remember this? Her fingers wound through the soft strands of his blond hair while he circled his head, lips pressed against her clit.
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