“Coffee,” she moaned, her raspy voice barely recognizable to her own ears.
Her lump of a boyfriend didn’t stir as she dragged her sore ass out of bed and snagged the robe. She was pretty sure the three of them had fucked again…and again…and again…all through the night. Though after joining them on the balcony, and losing count of the shots she’d tossed back, the evening was a sloppy mess in her brain. Tight muscles fought her movement as she staggered to the coffee pot. Filling a cup, she brought the strong hot brew to her lips and savored the pungent flavor.
She needed fresh air. Forcing her legs to comply, she walked to the balcony door, only to get the bajeezus scared out of her when she opened it. Eric rested against the railing, smoking a fat cigar, watching the sun rise over the Strip. He grinned when she lurched through the doorway.
“Good morning, sleep well?” he asked.
She caught her reflection in his aviator sunglasses. She’d been ridden hard and put away wet, no doubt about it. He looked perfectly put together, without even a wrinkle in his suit.
“I’m not sure. I don’t remember going to bed.”
His lip turned up at the corner, sending heat sizzling straight to her pussy, though that’s not why the world spun beneath her feet. She grabbed the metal rail and guzzled more coffee, fighting off the last of the buzz from the night before. He took a big puff, the sweet smell of tobacco drifting around her.
She wrinkled her nose. “Those things will kill you.”
“We’re all dyin’ from the moment we’re born; it’s a matter of how fast we get there.”
Birds chirped and the wind whistled around the building as she considered his words.
“So why are you in Vegas?” she asked. Something didn’t seem right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“I’m here for a conference.” His eyes focused on her, making her nipples pucker beneath the robe. He waved toward the room. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll wake your boyfriend?”
“No, Gabe sleeps like the dead.”
He chuckled. “Interesting choice of words.”
Unease hit her again, stirring around in her belly with the coffee.
He reached out and stroked a strand of hair from her cheek, distracting her from the misplaced feeling. Her knees knocked as she creamed. Surely, her body couldn’t take anymore fucking, even if it thought otherwise. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, kissing the side of her neck. She closed her eyes; desire flared hot between her legs.
“Wait here.” He went into the hotel room. She kept her eyes shut and her fingers curled around the deck rail, fearing if she let go she’d crumple to the ground. He re-emerged and she knew what he wanted before he even touched her. Approaching from behind her, he lifted her robe and slid his sheathed cock between her thighs, placing a hand on her lower back and bending her over the rail.
Sex in public was kink at its best, at least for her, and she whimpered when he slid within her sopping wet hole. His palm slipped into her robe, cupping a breast, avoiding the overly tender tip. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled her ears, as she spread wider, taking him deeper. Orgasm took her in a rush and she swallowed her scream. He grunted, shoving into her one last time, spilling his cum.
“You’re just as good one-on-one,” he said huskily, running a hand over her back.
She opened her eyes, staring at a dark, rusty stain on the cement below.
“Even all by myself I rock,” she teased, straightening and turning around.
His eyebrow quirked up as he tossed the used condom into a waste bin inside the door and zipped up. “I’d watch that show all night.”
The hangover slapped her over the face again and she swayed on her feet. He grabbed her elbow.
“I can’t party like I use to,” she said fighting down nausea. Her joints crackled as she shifted foot to foot.
“I hear you. Once upon a time I greeted each sunrise with champagne and cocaine.”
Her mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds. “Uh, wait, drugs? Really?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “It was the thing to do at that point in time. But Vegas was different back then.”
“Back then?” She was having serious doubts about who they’d done the dirty deed with all night. The whole drug thing freaked her out. What did you expect from a stranger in Las Vegas? Her spidey sense kicked in and she ducked past him into the hotel room, wanting the security of her ex-Infantry boyfriend’s company. Not that she couldn’t protect herself, but still….
Eric followed and took a seat in a chair across from the bed, casually crossing an ankle over his knee. She shook Gabe. He lay like a big slab of wood.
“Gabe, wake-up, it’s time to pack up and go home.”
He didn’t stir and she watched for his chest to rise and fall with his breaths. Fear twisted in her gut when he remained motionless. She placed her ear near his mouth. Nothing tickled her ear. She placed a hand over his heart. No thud of life resounded beneath her palm. Her fingers found his wrist, but still no pulse.
“Oh my God.” She shook him harder, staring into his face. “Gabe, no.”
His eyes popped open and she screamed stumbling backward.
“I just had the most fucked up falling dream.” Gabe rubbed his eyes. “Jesus, Kristin, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She retreated toward the balcony, looking between Eric and Gabe. She knew what dead looked like, and damn it, her boyfriend had been dead.
“What’s going on here?”
Gabe sat up, his brow wrinkled in a worried frown, his joints popping loudly. “Kris, seriously, what’s the matter?” He rubbed the small of his back. “I had one hell of a bender last night. I can barely move.”
“That’s understandable, considering the swan dive the two of you took off the balcony last night. A nasty accident.”
Eric’s words snapped both of their attention to him.
“For me, it was an overdose on blow. But, hell it was the seventies, right? Haven’t touched the stuff since—not that it’d matter. You can’t die twice.”
Gabe got off the bed, placing himself between her and their suddenly crazed sex partner. She stepped to the side, needing answers, and fast.
“Okay, are you totally off your rocker?” she asked. Things were tumbling downhill.
“Go ahead, check for yourselves.” He placed two fingers to his own jugular, an almost cruel smile twisting his lips.
Her fingers inched up to the side of her neck.
“No….”
She flattened her palm over her heart in desperation, coming up empty. Gabe searched his body for a pulse, his features drawn tight in fear.
“It can’t be,” he said.
Silence hung between them as they stared at one another. Absolute silence, save for the birds and the sound of the wind. No cars, no people….
Kristin turned to Eric and his dark twinkling eyes met hers.
“The city isn’t what it used to be. Vegas is dead, baby, and so are the two of you.”
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Olivia Starke lives in a little town in southern Missouri. Some of the most beautiful country in the U.S., she loves the Ozarks and hikes, runs, or kayaks whenever possible. When not working at her laptop or in her retail management job, she’s playing mom to an ever expanding collection of dogs, cats, and horses who find their way to her little farm.
She loves to hear from readers and welcomes them to email her at [email protected] !
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Vegas is Dead, Baby Page 2