This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.
Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world – thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.
Chapter 12: Three Months Later
Three months had slowly passed since Daniel had reached the World Series of Poker final table. In that time he'd left his job back in England, moved out of the London apartment he and Grace had been renting, found a temporary bedsit, and spent most of his time playing poker… and drinking.
He was better at poker than even he had suspected, judging by his results. His drinking habits were rapidly improving, too—he often started in the morning and continued 'til late at night.
Two days back in Las Vegas, all the old memories had returned. Contrary to his expectations, the excitement of the City that never sleeps was still there. Excitement… and also anticipation of what tomorrow would bring. Whether two days reacclimatizion was enough, he wasn't sure. But then, Holly had only returned last night. He hadn't been in good enough condition to see her, too much drink. Instead, they'd arranged lunch today.
Daniel made a pact with himself to stay off the booze until the afternoon. Or maybe 'til after the Main Event? If he could…
Bobby Baldwin's poker room at the Bellagio was becoming to feel like home. He'd seen more of it than the inside of his hotel suite, though they were about the only two sights he had enjoyed so far. What else was there to see?
Yes, it was true he'd twice found himself outside of
Midnight Hot
. He had no intention of entering, of course. Why would he? Rosie had made her feelings clear and he understood why. He'd lied. And he was a deadbeat poker player. With all that had happened with her previous boyfriend, the sweet redhead had had her fill of that combination.
Hell, he didn't even know if she'd returned to work there. She might not even
be
in Vegas. He had no idea
where
she was. All he
did
know was how much he missed the redhead. That feeling hadn't gone away.
It increased with each passing day...
***
The giant's bushy beard provided quite a contrast to his baldhead. Grace remembered the interesting combination so well. She loved every aspect of his roughness. That was why she'd returned to his shop, she guessed. Yes, she wanted the tattoos. But she craved the rough, dirty sex, too.
"Well, Missy," the grizzly man's deep voice growled. "There we go, two more angel tattoos. What d'you think—old Sam's done a good job?"
Grace sat cross-legged on the long table to check her ankles. "Perfect," she answered, with that little come-on smile of hers.
The short, black skirt rode up to her waist, allowing the bear of a man a clear view of her thong covered crotch. The black lace disguised very little, but that was part of the excitement. Could he see how wet she was?
With her three-month contract at Samuel Smith's now completed, she had several producers clamouring with record deals. If the number of hits on You Tube and My Space were an indicator, she was already an international star. That first album was a guaranteed success. The competing money on the table for her was mind boggling, but it was only the start.
Grace Lane—Superstar! Fame and fortune was just around the corner.
Her idea for the additional two ankle tattoos was to emphasise she was the best angel of all. Not yet, okay. But soon she would be. The side benefit was seeing old Sam again. Despite moving in her sophisticated new world, the idea of seeing the worldly-wise biker again was almost too good to resist.
"Perfect is right, Missy," he grinned, his eyes drawn to her crotch.
Grace remembered that grin… the stained smokers' teeth. The sleeveless black tee shirt with its skull and crossbones design fitted him so well. She adored tattoos and his muscular arms were covered with them.
So rough… so dirty… so dangerous.
Hot flushes of arousal were already pumping through her hot body. They changed to a fiery furnace as his hand sneaked under her skirt and homed in on her sex.
"Ngh!" she cried, tossing her long dark hair as his probing fingers stroked her through the lacy thong. Her body arched up, bucking her hips up into the penetrating fingers. She came so hard that his other hand needed to steady her shuddering body.
"Nice, Missy," he muttered. "You're nice and ready for old Sam, aren't you? You want a bit of this rough old bastard again, right?" Pulling his hand from between her thighs, he fed his fingers to her lips, smiling as the woman lustfully licked her juices from them. This was one hot bitch! "Now why don't you slip off that top for me? Let me see them tits again—"
With a lustful groan, Grace pulled her top free of her skirt, and then yanked it clean over her head, her breasts bouncing deliciously. Sam's head instantly dipped and his lips sucked in a hard nipple. His hand raised to her other swell, his thumb gently flicking back and forth across her extended dark bud.
Grace moaned again as he suckled her. His tongue flicked and licked around her hard nipple. Her hands found his head, encouragingly rubbing across his bald skin. For such a large man, he could be incredibly gentle.
Suddenly his other hand was between her thighs again, gripping the waistband of her thong. With a grunt, he ripped the flimsy covering from her body, holding it up in front of her, as if displaying his prize confirmed his control.
Grace's lips quivered as he dipped his head again, both hands roughly cupping her breasts, pushing them inwards towards his sucking mouth. The torn thong fluttered to the floor.
Both her hard buds were swelling in his mouth, reacting as he swept between one and the other. The feeling of his saliva dripping from her breasts onto her stomach only added to her arousal. Her hands left his head and dropped to his waist, yanking his belt free and pushing open his dirty black jeans.
