His Kingdom (Owning Vegas Book 1)

My head is pounding, and my body aches as if I’ve run a thousand miles. Flashes of what I did come back to me before I even open my eyes. Maybe if I don’t move, it won’t be real? These soft sheets I’m feeling against my skin—my naked skin—aren’t real.

Shit… My naked skin.

My eyes snap open, scanning the room, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t find anyone else in here with me. I’m alone. It was a dream, right? Except this isn’t the room I was staying in. This is the same room from my dream.

“Oh my god!” I pull the blanket up over my face. It wasn’t a dream. It was real. He was real. How? The things that man did to me, his body, his… dick. No way that was real. Nothing that good can be real.

The visions running through my mind are very real, though. And oh my gosh, I never in my wildest dreams would have thought I’d be capable of having a moment—no, not a moment. Hours and hours of such… passion.

Louie. I say his name in my head. It’s not like I didn’t scream it out enough. I vaguely remember him saying my throat would be sore. And sure enough, when I swallow, it hurts. I need water. I need to get the hell out of Dodge before this empty room becomes not so empty.

I should be mortified I’m waking up alone, but I’m not. I’m relieved. No awkward morning after. Or in this case, night after. When I look out the windows, the city lights flash against the darkened sky.

Every muscle hurts as I drag myself out of bed. Who needs to go to a gym for a workout? Just spend a few hours naked with Louie.

Huh, I wonder why no one has marketed sex as a weight loss solution yet? Probably because sex isn’t normally like that, at least not in my experience.

I find my clothes neatly folded on a chair by the window. Who folds someone else’s clothes? Psychopaths, that’s who. Great, I had sex with a damn psycho. At least he left my body in one piece, and I’m not currently in a shallow grave in the Nevada desert somewhere. Thank god for small miracles.

Then again, if I were dead right now, Owen and my sister would blame themselves and have to live with the guilt. Guess there is always a bright side to messed-up situations. Not that I’m planning on dying. I guess not many people plan on being cut to pieces by a psycho, though.

I grab my pile of clothes and set them down on the bed. My top and shorts are here, but my underwear is nowhere to be found. Then I remember… Louie took them off me by the pool. I slide my shorts up my legs, pull my top on over my head, and quickly run into the bathroom to freshen up the best I can without a toothbrush or a comb. Then, tiptoeing out of the bedroom, I scan the small hallway before I walk down. I can’t hear a single sound. I must be alone in the penthouse.

I make my way towards the glass doors that lead out to the pool and gently slide them open. I don’t want to make any noise just in case Louie is lurking around here somewhere. I’d prefer not to see him right now. I look around the edge of the pool for my underwear, but there’s nothing. Great, some poor cleaning lady is probably going to find my panties in the most random place. Mission unaccomplished, I walk back through the doors and get halfway across the small living room before I’m stopped by a man. A huge bulking monster of a man.

“Running out?” Sammie says. I remember him from last night. He’s one of Louie’s friends.noveldrama

Oh god, please tell me this isn’t one of those situations where friends share or think they can share me. I might have been explorative with Louie today, but that’s where my spice level ends.

“Ah… I was just leaving,” I say, trying to sound confident in my response.

“You should probably put shoes on first. The streets out there are filthy,” Sammie tells me.

“Right.” I look around. Where did I leave my shoes?

“They’re by the door. Boss said to wait here until you woke up. He didn’t want you waking up alone.”

“Boss?” I parrot.

“Louie,” Sammie clarifies.

“Why do you call him boss?” I ask as I try skirting around the man and front of me to make my way towards the door.

“Because he is the boss. Where are you running off to anyway?”

“The closest health clinic,” I blurt out. Shit. Some thoughts are supposed to stay inside my head. That’s a problem I seem to be having more and more, though. I know how irresponsible I was with Louie, which is why the first stop I’m gonna make when I leave this room is a clinic.

Sammie’s eyes widen and then a weird, worried expression crosses his features. “Shit, are you sick? I can have the doc come up and check you out,” he says while retrieving his phone.

“I’m not sick. At least I hope not. It’s… personal. I just… Anyway, tell Louie I said thanks—or don’t tell him that. I’m just gonna go.” I open the door, walk over to the elevators, and quickly press the button.

Sammie follows me. “I’ll take you,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll take you to the clinic. Which one do you want to go to?” he asks me.

“I can take myself.” I have absolutely no intention of having one of Louie’s friends… employees… whatever… take me to a sexual health clinic. Could life get any more embarrassing?

“Look, if you don’t let me take you I’m going to get fired, or worse. So please just let me drive you to wherever you gotta go,” he pleads.

“You’re not going to get fired. Tell your boss I refused your assistance.” I shrug and step into the elevator when the doors open, only to have Sammie follow me again.

“Yeah, you don’t know the boss too well. Trust me when I say it’s in my best interest to take you.” Sammie smiles at me. It’s awkward—although I think he’s going for charming.

“You’re right. I don’t know your boss, which is exactly why I need to go to a clinic to get tested for everything and anything after spending hours and hours having unprotected sex with him. So if you don’t mind, it’s not exactly something I’m proud of. And, honestly, I don’t need an audience with a front-row seat to my embarrassment.” I don’t know why I have no filter at the moment. Lingering effects of alcohol maybe? Or I’m just tired and emotionally drained.

I can see Sammie’s lips twitch, as if he’s trying his damnedest not to smile or laugh. And he better not, because right now, I feel violent. I know I can’t take him, but I’d go down giving it my best.

“Unprotected? You sure?” he asks with furrowed brows.

I blink at him. Is he seriously asking me that? “Oh, great, he has some horrible sexually transmitted disease, doesn’t he? And I was thinking the worst that could happen was he’d be a psycho and cut my body up into tiny pieces.”

“You might be closer on the psycho theory. Pretty sure boss is clean, though. No STDs I know of. I also doubt very much he’d cut your body up into tiny pieces.” Sammie laughs. The asshole actually laughs.

“Still, I think I’ll go to a clinic and make sure.” The doors finally open and I step out. It takes me a hot minute to orientate myself and find the sign that reads rideshare. I try to ignore that Sammie is still following me and that people seem to be making a path when I walk by.

Do they all know? Is it written on my face? The fact that I probably contracted an STD that’s going to be my undoing? That would be my luck. Have the best sex of my life, only for it to be the thing that kills me.

Grabbing my phone, which was thankfully still in the back pocket of my shorts, I call for an Uber. “You really don’t need to follow me,” I tell Sammie.

“I really do,” he says as he types something into his phone.

“My ride is two minutes away. I’m fine, honestly,” I assure him.

“Mmhmm,” he groans, still staring at his screen.

When the car pulls up, Sammie beats me to the handle, holding the door open for me. “Thanks.” I frown at him.

Why is he so insistent? At least now that the car’s here, I can finally be alone—well, besides the driver. My hopes are immediately demolished when Sammie climbs into the back seat with me.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“I told you. Going with you,” he says. “I happen to value my life, which is why I’m not taking any chances.”

“I can text you or something, if I find out your boss has a disease you need to know about.”

The guy in the driver’s seat chokes as he stares at us in the rearview mirror. “Drive. And pretend you didn’t hear a word in this car,” Sammie tells him in a much firmer tone than I’ve ever heard him use on me.

“Yes, sir.” The man’s face pales as he pulls out into traffic.

Hey, world, if ever there was a time for a sinkhole to appear, now would be it.

“Does Nevada have sinkholes?” I ask Sammie.

“Some parts, but not the part you’re in. Why?” he replies.

“Pity,” I groan and lean my head back on the seat before closing my eyes.