Welcome to Dunvegas

by Meankitty Publishing

  Chet swung her up into his arms and headed for the bedroom. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to be inside her. Now.

  He laid her on the bed and spread her legs, noting with pleasure the dark red of her curls. She was a natural redhead, which pleased him greatly. Chet bent over her, licking her straining nipples and sucking on her skin as she writhed beneath him.

  “I can’t wait, Sherry. It has to be fast this time.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t make me wait.”

  The dreamy expression on her face coupled with the elevated heat of her skin let him know she was more than ready, but he had to be sure. He didn’t want to start their life together by hurting her. Reaching down, he stroked his fingers through her curls, then tested her readiness. She was slick and wet, ready for him and writhing in pleasure as he pushed inside, just a short way.

  “I’m going to make this good for you, sweetheart. Tell me you want it.” He moved closer, lining himself up to stake his claim. She whimpered when he removed his fingers.

  “I want it. I want you. Please!”

  The last word was a sobbing cry as he pushed home within her.

  Sherry felt so full, so gloriously complete in a way she’d never felt before. Jeff hadn’t given her this much pleasure at his best, and Chet hadn’t even really started yet. True, there’d been little foreplay, but her blood was humming so hot, she didn’t need it. She’d never been this ready before. Not for anyone. And never this fast.

  “Yes,” he growled, his eyes glowing as he began to move. “You’re mine, Sherry. Say it!”

  A whimper left her lips as her excitement rose another notch. Any more and she was going to come right out of her skin. She’d never known such pleasure.

  “Yes! I’m yours. Yours!”

  His grunts became growls as he drove her higher. Sherry flew over the edge before she was even aware of how high he’d pushed her. He felt so right within her, as if that’s where he always should be. She cried out as she came, hard and fast.

  But Chet wasn’t done. Muscles rippling, he flipped her onto her stomach and lifted her up until she was on all fours. He entered from behind, pushing deep while the heat rose another notch. She’d never had multiple orgasms before, but Chet was pushing her higher, and for the first time in her life, it seemed like more than a possibility. She was panting with every thrust as he deepened his possession.

  “Now, Sherry. Now you become mine.” His breath tickled her ear as he covered her back with his hard body. A moment later, she felt his teeth grazing down her neck, spiking her excitement. When he bit into her shoulder, she screamed, coming so hard, she blacked out for a minute.

  When she came to, she was lying on her back with Chet leaning over her. One hand stroked her hair, while he gazed at her with loving concern. Slick wetness between her thighs told her he’d come just as hard as she had.

  “Are you okay?” His voice was gruff, a low growl that fired her senses.

  She nodded. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

  He grinned. “We have years to explore all the ways to make love, sweetheart, now that we’re together.”

  “You were really serious about that?” Hope filled her heart.

  “You doubted me?” His surprise was almost comical.

  Sherry reached up to stroke his stubbly cheek, giving him a soft smile. “I had a rough day.”

  He captured her hand and kissed it, nibbling on her fingers. “Tomorrow starts the rest of our lives together. I meant every word, Sherry, my love. I’ve been waiting for you and now that you’re here, I’ll never let you go.”

  “Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I don’t think I’ll ever want to go anywhere.”

  He growled and rolled so that he lay on top of her, letting her feel a little of his intimidating weight. “Good thing you said that, but I’m still going to have to punish you for doubting my sincerity.” The devilish smile in his eyes stilled any worries she might’ve had about a guy his size wanting to ‘punish’ her.”

  “Tomorrow,” he punctuated his words with nibbling kisses along her throat and down to the fresh marks on her shoulder, “you can wear the red leather number and I’ll paddle your pretty ass ‘til it matches. What do you think?”

  Her breath caught and her imagination took flame. “I think I’m going to like my punishment a little too much.”

  “That’s okay. I can always punish you for that later.” With a wink, he slid inside her and together they rocked the world until morning. Between love bites and shattering completions, he told her a fantastical story about being a werewolf and leading a pack of his kin. She didn’t believe a word of it, but late the next day, he proved it to her, then made love to her again. And again. And again.

  And they lived happily ever after…Red and her big bad wolf.

  (Return to Table of Contents)

  Dunvegas: Alien Attack

  By Jody Wallace

  “If I were an alien who’d escaped Area 51, where would I go?” Miranda Mellons raised the binoculars to her sweaty face and inspected the military base from atop Tikaboo Peak, the closest legal vantage point to the Groom Lake facility. All she could see was a cluster of white warehouses encircled by the thin, tan lines of desert roads. Nothing else but twenty-six miles of sand, bushes, and mountain ranges. No signs of life, much less the military masses searching for alien life.

  But there’d been no mistaking the signal she’d picked up with her dad’s old radio less than twenty-four hours ago. Her father, an ex-military survivalist, had taught her well, and she knew what the coded message meant.

  Loose foo.

  An alien had escaped.

  It was the day they’d all been waiting for. She was determined to be the one to locate the ET, to prove herself to the other Dream Team members who humored her out of respect for her father’s memory.

  She had to decide on a plan of action. Others might be hiking up Tikaboo even now, at least the ones spry enough to handle the terrain. She’d beaten them here because she’d neglected to relay the message until she’d been en route. Hey, they’d pawned off the shit Nevada outpost job on her while they handled the exciting aspects of extraterrestrial hunting—anything besides monitoring a radio. She should benefit at least a little. After all, it was her father who’d started the Dream Team, a faction of ET hunters and conspiracy theorists that had spanned the globe since before the Internet.

  They’d all thought Area 51 was a dead zone. No way would the government hide anything or anyone here since it was so well known.

  They’d been wrong.

  What to do, what to do. Miranda buzzed with excitement, and also the several energy drinks she’d consumed on the trip. The others had more contacts than she did, more resources. But she had two things they didn’t have—the first and most relevant being proximity.

  Not that it was doing her any good. She didn’t see anything unusual. Didn’t smell anything. Didn’t hear anything. She’d been up Tikaboo enough to know what was usual, too.

  Her second ace in the hole hadn’t helped yet, either—her souped-up gamma wave scanner. The others had scanners, but not like hers. She didn’t plan to tell them about the modifications until she confirmed they worked. Unfortunately, the main unit was too heavy to carry up the mountain, and she hadn’t detected anything on the handheld.

  Hell, if she were an alien who’d escaped Area 51, the first thing she’d do would be blow the place. Barring that, she’d hightail it as fast as she could towards the closest human establishment where she could blend in. Might that be Rachel? No way. Only 100 people lived there and half of them were crazy. Alamo? Nope, still too small.

  Well, of course. By hook, teleportation, pick-up truck or crook, the alien would head for Las Vegas. Let the other Dreamers scour the desert around the ET Highway. Miranda was going straight to Sin City to extend the hand of human friendship to their stellar kin.

  ~*~

  What the heck was going on at Dunvegas? Miranda dragged her heavy luggag
e behind her through the parking garage, dodging a pile of horse crap. Horse crap? In Vegas? It was one thing for the garage to be full, but it was another for it to be full of such a freaky assortment of vehicles. Everything from Jeeps to chariots filled the spaces.

  Ahead of her, two winged women squealed and glittered as they raced to catch the elevator, one practically flying into the air in her haste. They noticed Miranda trudging behind them and held the doors.

  “Nice costumes,” Miranda said. With her interest in electronics and extraterrestrials, she’d never worried much about her appearance, but suddenly she felt conspicuous in her dusty hiking gear. She set the hard case of scanning equipment on its end and leaned the suitcase, also full of equipment, against the wall.

  “Oh, yah, sure,” one of the women said. She had a distinct Wisconsin accent and lavender wings. “Costumes.”

  “Is there a comic book show here?” Miranda asked. A small contingent of Dreamers routinely monitored anime and other conventions for evidence of alien life.

  “ParaPleasures,” the other woman cooed. She glanced at her companion and they both giggled. Again. “You’re not here for Pleasure, are you, hon?”

  “Business.” How sad that random costumed strangers could tell she, Miranda Mellons, had little or no pleasure in her life.

  Well, that would end as soon as she and her revolutionary scanner located the ET. She’d have the pleasure of the Dreamers’ respect. She’d have the pleasure of guiding first contact with the world outside the military. She’d be famous, no longer a joke to everyone outside the Dream Team, where she was a joke anyway.

  Imagine, being a joke among the people everyone else laughs at.

  The elevators opened into the back of Dunvegas’s huge casino, and she dragged herself and her suitcases through the glitzy hustle and bustle to the front desk. Apparently this ParaPleasures thing attracted an even weirder crowd than anime conventions, because everywhere she looked, Miranda saw features, appendages and skin tones not found in nature. Earth’s nature. The Dream Team had proof ETs looked as human as the next human, being their distant ancestors and all, so maybe not found in alien nature, either.

  “I called about a room,” she said to a harried man at the desk once he’d finished checking in a guy dressed all in black and wearing shades. And a cape.

  “Name?” He started tapping away at his computer keyboard and didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Miranda Mellons. M-E-L-L-O-N-S. I’ve stayed here before, and I have a DV Discount Card. Like a VIP card, only for Dunvegas.”

  “Yes, I know what the DV cards are.” The man tip-tapped some more.

  The Dreamers always stayed at Dunvegas. Its location was geographically compatible with their equipment, with less interference than the Excalibur, MGM Grand or Luxor, the other prime locations. The air conditioning was cranked to arctic, but they got affordable rates and two bucks off at the buffet. The owner, Mr. Fritz, was rumored to be a backer of their society.

  “Miss Mellons, I’m afraid we don’t have any rooms available.” The man glanced up, and Miranda was disconcerted to see the skin around his eyes and nose was as wrinkled as a raisin, even though he appeared to be young. Freaky. “The Luxor across the street would be happy to honor your DV card.”

  “When I called, I was told you had space.” She couldn’t conduct the field test of her new equipment at the Luxor! The pyramid would deflect the gamma waves and ruin everything.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the clerk repeated.

  Beside Miranda, a tall, good-looking man wearing a ratty black T-shirt barked something at another desk clerk about his room smelling of cat and demanded to be comped a suite on the executive level.

  The other clerk bobbed her head. “Of course, Mr. Lupin. We’ve several openings on the executive level. So sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Why did he get the helpful clerk? Miranda wondered.

  “It’s going to take a full moon for my nose to recover.” The man leaned on the counter and intimidated the small employee. “Putting cats on the wolf floor. Are you new at your job or did you not manifest until you were brain-dead?”

  Miranda glared at the hateful man. The poor girl he berated looked as transparent as wax paper. “It’s better than being an asshole,” Miranda muttered.

  Mr. Mean didn’t turn to her, but he muttered back. “I have excellent hearing, lady. Mind your own business.”

  Miranda dragged her attention back to her own clerk. More waspishly than she’d intended, she snapped, “I know you have rooms. He got one on the executive level and gave up one on another level.”

  “Madam, your DV card means we can only offer you accommodations on certain dates.”

  “Is there a problem here?” A tall woman with long fingernails and hair as golden as, well, gold strode from the far end of the desk and placed her hand on the clerk’s shoulder. She pinned Miranda in place with a sultry, heavy-lidded gaze.

  “No, Ms. Bast,” the clerk said. He appeared to shrink next to the statuesque woman. “Ms. Mellons has a DV card and it’s ParaPleasures this weekend. I’m not supposed to—”

  “I’d advise you to make an exception. Ms. Mellons is expected.” The woman smiled at Miranda and licked her lips. Her tongue was pale pink. “Mr. Fritz asked that we accommodate Ms. Mellons and any of her friends. Call him and ask if you like.”

  She winked at Miranda, as if they knew something nobody else did. Was this woman a Dream Teamer? Did she know about the loose foo? Ms. Bast gave a shimmy and stroked her hair behind her rather pointed ears.

  The clerk shrank some more. “A room on the wolf...ah, floor thirty just opened up.”

  “Will you be having it cleaned first?” Miranda lowered her voice. “That guy said it smelled like cat.”

  Ms. Bast’s eyes narrowed, flashing as green as a fluorescent T-shirt. “What have you got against cats?” she asked, her voice a purr of anger.

  Miranda stepped back. “Nothing. Really. I like cats, but if the room smells like pee, I’d rather not sleep in it.”

  The jerky man who’d complained about the room butted in on the conversation. “I doubt someone with your nose could detect the stench. Though unfortunately it’s all over the hotel. Cat. Wonder why?”

  “Misssster Lupin,” Ms. Bast said, her voice an odd hiss, “did you not enjoy the little treat I put on the pillow?”

  “You’re the one who put that there? You crazy bitch!” Lupin threw his head back and howled. Miranda thought it was a laugh. The clerk beside Ms. Bast deflated further, his face actually seeming to become more wrinkled. His head barely reached the top of the desk now.

  “You’re confusing me with your mother,” Ms. Bast said. She rubbed the heel of her hand across her lips and then her ear, again smoothing back her shiny hair. “Oh, Martin, quit shrinking. Nobody’s going to get in a catfight. I swear, goblins make terrible coworkers.”

  Jeez, the clerk wasn’t attractive, but calling him a goblin was nasty. Ms. Bast was a piece of work herself, what with the lip licking and winking and rudeness. What had been on Lupin’s pillow? Cat turds? Miranda hoped it would be gone when she got to the room. She didn’t have time for hotel politics; she had sensitive equipment to set up and an ET to find.

  The clerk’s wrinkled face turned red and he swelled back to his full height. He accepted Miranda’s credit card without another word.

  “That time of the month, huh?” Lupin asked Ms. Bast. He loomed too close to Miranda for comfort, invading her personal space and bumping her precious equipment case.

  “Better me than you, Rover,” the blonde retorted.

  Both of them laughed. Miranda took a deep breath and said, “Sir, you’re touching my stuff.”

  “So?” He eyed Miranda up and down in a way that made her wonder what the hell he was thinking. How could a man in an ancient Pink Floyd shirt look like he owned the world?

  “You’re safe unless he lifts a leg,” Ms. Bast advised.

  Lupin scowled.

 
; “You’re really a jerk,” Miranda added. Men like Lupin bugged the crap out of her. Aggressive buttholes who thought they could push others around because they were bigger. Or had more money. Or whatever made them think they were so hot. She’d run into her fill of them in tech school amidst the other gizmo nerds like her. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

  “You think?” The man leaned forward and took a deep whiff of her hair. “Wow. Very nice. Too bad you don’t belong here. You need to leave, little girl.”

  This close, Miranda could see his eyes were a very light blue and the pupils had dilated. His cheekbones and nose were prominent, angular, with tanned skin, and his hair was an unusual shade of iron grey. His lower jaw dropped open slightly, and he smiled, revealing somewhat pointed teeth.

  “Excuse me,” she said, jabbing an elbow into his middle. He barely budged, but his smile widened. “You’re making me very uncomfortable. Ms. Bast, can you please call hotel security?”

  “Lupin, back off,” Ms. Bast said. “Don’t make me call PMS on your ass. Mr. Fritz has his reasons for including a DV this weekend. Maybe if you’d read your email instead of leading with your nose, you’d realize what they were. This is Miranda Mellons, bonehead.”

  Like she was somebody important. Unless...she was? Because of the Dream Team?

  “Mellllllllons,” the man drawled, making it sound like a dirty word. “Hard to believe, but oh so convenient.”

  If he was making a crack about her small chest, she might have to shoot him in the head with her taser. Miranda felt an angry blush color her face and neck, hard to hide when one was as fair-skinned as she was.

  Ms. Bast seemed to sense Miranda’s irritation and said to Lupin, “Go to your executive suite like a good dog and check your mail.”

  “I’ll see you around, Miranda Mellons.” Lupin backed away from Miranda, his gaze never leaving her. She tensed, her stomach fluttering. Her taser was packed with her equipment, and it wouldn’t be kosher to use it in a crowded lobby, anyway. When he finally disappeared into the casino, she turned back to Ms. Bast and the hotel clerk.