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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federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic
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rights is appreciated.

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.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any
review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or
in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means
now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written
permission of the publisher.

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?”