All is Lost (All Series, Book 2) (4 page)

It is time to get
lost
!

Once out of the shower I
dress slowly. Noticing I have more than twenty missed calls and
unread text messages, I disregard them all and leave my phone lying
on the bedside table. I don't have time for any one's bullshit
today, and I don't give a damn that they
need
me. Starting now, this life will
be about what I want.

Sam and Marcus chose a life outside of
the family business. Tristan will eventually make that decision
too. As for me, I'm expected to take the reins at WC soon. No–not
according to my father's plans; he wants me to fall in line behind
him on the corporate ladder and do his bidding, but that isn’t
everyone's plan. Granddad wants me to skip my father and uncle and
preside over the company soon. In order for that to happen, I must
first finish my graduate study at Stanford University. Upon
graduation, Granddad will retire and I will assume the CEO
position.

That
was
the plan. It no longer fits into
what I desire; and what I desire at the moment is women, liquor and
other random mind numbing bullshit.

“
Vegas it is.”

Desperate to get away from
her,
my heart accuses.

Grabbing my cell eager to get the hell
out of Willow, I aggressively punch in the number for the car
service, giving them my location at the marina. I drop the cell
back down on the nightstand forcefully, walking away from it and
forgetting everyone.

An hour later I'm sitting on the
family jet west bound to Nevada and my new freedom. I hate flying,
but I'm too damn hung over to drive. I manage to make it through
the takeoff just before crawling onto the bed in the back of the
plane. My head feels somewhat better, but I am wiped out both
mentally and physically. The nausea rolling through my body is from
the movement of the plane and the high altitudes – not because the
half bottle of bourbon I sopped up trying to drown my anguish. At
least that's what I tell myself.

Resting my head on the pillow,
watching the blue sky dotted with white gauzy clouds reminds me of
crystal blue eyes so light they are nearly white. Releasing a heavy
sigh, I mentally curse myself for thinking about Waverly again. I
roll to my other side away from the absorbing view.

Like that will fucking get
her off my mind
.

We lost it all. I can't go back to
her. She wouldn't take me back after the things I said to her while
crumpled on the ground at my feet. I wouldn't blame her. I am
pathetic and need her to do as I told her. Waverly needs to hate me
so I can't hurt her anymore. Fluffing the pillow, I wrap my arm
around it and after a short replay of last night’s fight I fade to
a restless sleep.

Six hours later the cute
thirty-something flight attendant wakes me from my short slumber,
letting me know that we are landing at Las Vegas International. I
thank her, roll off the bed and proceed to toward the main cabin so
I can fasten my seat belt. However, the little hottie has something
different in mind. She stands in the doorway, both hands resting on
the door frame, flashing a devilish smirk, all which effectively
blocks my path.

“
If there's anything else I
can do...” She trails off, licking her wine colored lips and raking
her eyes down my body.

She's looking at me with
hooded lids and scorching, desire invoking eyes that promise to
rock my world.
Mm, hell yeah.
Moving on is going to be easier than I
anticipated. I haven't even gotten off the damn plane yet. Tenderly
placing a finger under her chin, I lift it upward to look her in
the eyes. Deep brown irises encircled by a black ring with no depth
quickly tamps out my desire–because they are not blue.
Fuck me.

“
Next time Sweetness.” I
tease, sliding my thumb down the middle of her throat.

She bites down on her
bottom lip and nods before whipping around, displaying her
voluptuous ass. Before walking away she flips her long brown hair
over one shoulder and glances back at me with a devilish grin. She
winks then makes her way to the cockpit. I mentally slap myself for
turning down that hot piece of ass. What the fuck is wrong with
me?
Sex with hoards of women is one of the
reasons I came to Vegas
, I remind
myself.
Technically, she wasn't in
Vegas
, I counter and that's the excuse I go
with.
I'm a fucking dumb ass who is
arguing with himself over sex.

My car is waiting when I disembark the
plane and soon we are moving along with heavy traffic on the world
famous Vegas Strip. Accustom to all the finer things, I choose the
MGM Grand for an unknown duration. The Sky-lofts at The Grand are
audacious to say the least and offers exactly what I need to match
my new lifestyle.

The private concierge says
I was lucky that one of the penthouse suites happens to be
available. Apparently Heff's girls canceled their all girl’s trip
that was supposed to start today.
Too
bad.
I could have easily persuaded them to
share a room. Disappointed, I give them and myself a mental tongue
lashing for the last minute cancellation.

Well, with my damn luck,
it's a good fucking thing there’s other shit to do in Vegas besides
gamble.

When I arrive in my room I notice the
call ahead to the personal shopper was pure genius on my part.
Several new designer suits along with all the other provisions I
will require for the duration of my stay waits for my inspection. I
check every detail and after seeing that she clearly followed my
specific instructions I’m satisfied with my new start. Needing to
relax and forget the bullshit back in Willow, I spend a lengthy
amount of time in the luxurious steam shower.

Realizing it has been
three, entirely too long days since I was last inside Waverly, I
drop my forehead against the clear glass wall and groan through the
cascading water, pouring from the large sprayer mounted in the
ceiling. The night of the bonfire is the last time I tasted and
explored her sweetness. The thoughts of being in her bed with her
riding me while her head is thrown back, screaming my name gets me
hard instantly. Now I must deal with my growing problem.
Ah fuck, she is a damn vision of heaven, riding
my cock.
I love how every time we fuck and
she's escalating in passion toward orgasm she begs me to flip her
onto her stomach. In this submissive position (me taking her from
behind), I draw out the residuals of her aftershocks and it gives
her the most pleasurable physical high. This is Waverly’s favorite
position. It drives her wild to climax under me and pleases the
hell out of my controlling nature.

Visualizing Waverly needing me to
dominate her while I force more pleasure from her body increases my
current need for sexual release. Envisioning my greedy hands
gripping into the creamy flesh of her hips, moving one hand up the
line of her spine and gripping her shoulder to drive my dick in
harder while the other hand slips around her waist, my fingers
searching out her tiny bundle of sensitive nerves.

Fuck it.
I can’t deny myself another second. My cock
twitches hard in my fist, imploring with need. Without a woman here
to bury myself in, I take matters into my own hands and indulge in
self-gratification.

My mind flashes with dozens of images
of Waverly’s perfect, little body. Scenes of her writhing under me,
the moment I enter her, and then staring into her clear blue eyes
just before our oblivion, has me stroking away some of the stress
from last night’s fiasco. My hand clutches hard with the numerous
memories of my mouth and tongue exploring her sizzling flesh,
tasting every inch and comparing her creaminess to the most
decadent desserts. In my world, Waverly’s pussy wins every damn
time. Now hammering out a pleasurable rhythm, my breathing becomes
labored panting, my balls tighten and I twist around, slamming my
back against the shower wall. Suddenly the memory of seeing Waverly
riding on that mother fucker at the club fuels my rage, increasing
my need to come.

I throw my head back and frantically
force my fist to move faster. “Mygod, I need you Waverly.” My voice
is thick with lust, but my plea is unadulterated truth.

Now focused and determined
my body begins to tremble with thoughts of her quivering at my
touch instead of
his
. Adding the passionate scene at the club to leaving her
behind, possibly in the arms of another man, and it doesn't take
long before I reach a fantastic self-induced high off my
release.

“
Waverly.” Gutturally
groaning and panting, my pleasure slices through the silence of the
empty suite. My mind reels at the sated state my body is now in,
but it still doesn't compare to the real thing because I’m nowhere
near satisfied.

I finish my shower then towel off
quickly. I find a pair of ultra-faded blue jeans and soft light
blue long sleeve button down. I am all about a causal look for my
first night in Vegas. I spot the expensive Italian footwear lining
the bottom of the closet, but opt for the brown cowboy boots
instead. I'll save Armani for another night.

After dressing I step into the main
room of the quiet penthouse and cross over to the large picture
window. I place my forehead against the glass and close my eyes.
The dessert nights lower temperatures cool the glass nicely and
minutes pass as I absorb the serenity. I couldn't have picked a
better night or place to say piss off to everyone and
everything.

Running away from responsibility and
staying here indefinitely will fulfill my selfish motives. Pleasing
everyone else has been my life for nearly twenty-two years.
Truthfully, escaping life and staying here may help me figure out
what the hell I really want since being an heir no longer fits into
my agenda. Until I do figure out what the hell I do want to do with
my life, I'm going to play in the biggest sin playground of the
world.

Searching the horizon for a sign of
answers I reach a conclusion; I don't ever have to return to Willow
Island again. I have more than enough money in my trust to stay
here. Friends will visit just to experience this ultra-lux life
with me. Enjoying the best of the best, every night I'll party with
celebrities and drink my way through this notorious town. Strip
clubs will have private seating for me with tabletops covered in
Cristal champagne and strippers, motivated by my funds will keep me
happy. What the hell do I care? Everything I desire will be at my
fingertips.

I'll bring hot babes back
to my penthouse every night and give them a taste of my sweet life.
Scores of women will fill this room. One night stands.
Hell yeah.
It will be
easy pickings, and I can have my flavor choice of the night; creamy
to mocha, spicy to saucy, and all the exotics that span the flavor
pallet.
This is fucking
awesome
. Seriously, it's so perfect.
Nothing will stop me. No responsibilities. I won't answer to a damn
soul.

Masking the duplicity of my parent’s
agenda, I will finally have true freedom. Freedom and fun, oh, and
the other F word; fucking my way up the strip, with no commitments.
Strangers toasting the great life–my great life will worship the
name Morgan Walker. I’ll stay here for as long as I want. Until I'm
done. Then I'll leave it all behind. I'll just fucking go. Hell, I
can travel the world living out of suitcases. When I get bored I'll
just move to the next scene. There are plenty of women out there
waiting, so I'll take my time marveling in as many as I come
across.

Waverly

Standing alone still
looking out the window I watch the twinkling lights of the passing
vehicles, and strobes illuminating the filled hotels on the busy
strip below. My life can be summed up in this visual; flashy, busy
and on top of the world. Staying here, I can be shameless, alive
and living among the elite while sitting right on the top of the
world…my world
. I
could be above all this indefinitely
.

Keeping my head pressed against the
glass, I turn a bit and the fully stocked bar entices me. I push
off the window seal and step up to the cabinet, holding the answer
to at least one of tonight's problems. Tipping the bottle, I pour
enough to hit the rim of my glass. Careful not to swirl the bourbon
and spill one drop of my portal toward happiness, I grasp the
filled tumbler and lift it.

Nothing too cliché for me, I always
toast to what I desire, “To the fucking great life.”

I gulp half of the burning liquid and
then stare down at the remainder.

Smooth
, “Only the best.”

Now, to start my life of
freedom. On the agenda tonight; dinner and dancing to begin with
and ending with screwing a hot babe until daybreak.
I will wipe her from my memory,
I promise myself.

I walk through the casino lobby,
checking out the hotel watering holes. Stopping at one with hoards
of people, I push my way through the vibrating crowd in search of
the bar. A twenty something guy working his ass off spots me take
the only open seat. He's busy as hell so he rushes over to me and
leans across.