Chapter 1: The Courier's military award
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the opulent expanse of the Lucky 38's presidential suite. Drakon Phoenix stepped out, his boots sinking slightly into the plush carpet as he strode towards the bedroom, the weight of the day's negotiations heavy on his shoulders. The scent of aged whiskey and jasmine clung to the air, a testament to the suite's luxurious comforts, but it was the faint, tantalizing aroma of something else that made his onyx eyes narrow in anticipation.
He pushed open the bedroom door, the velvet drapes whispering against the marble floor as they parted to reveal the grand mirror reflecting the neon glow of Vegas beyond. The bed, draped in silk the color of desert sunsets, was a sight to behold, but it was what lay upon it that made his cock twitch in his pants.
Two women, silhouetted against the silk, turned to face him. Carrie Boyle, her sharp tongue and practical hair of rich brown a stark contrast to the lacy lingerie she wore, smirked at him from her position on the bed.
"Well, well, well," she drawled, her voice smooth as whiskey but with an edge that suggested she had little patience for bullshit. "Looks like you finally made it to the finish line, Phoenix."
Drakon’s gaze flicked to the other woman, Cassandra Moore, who sat with her legs crossed, the silk of her lingerie clinging to her muscular frame. Her green eyes, sharp as a blade, locked onto his, unflinching. "You’ve been a long time coming, King," she said, her voice low and commanding.