What happens in Vegas…: Part 4 (the pre-game)
The suite’s dressing area looks like a backstage fever dream: glitter exploded across the vanity, lingerie draped over lamps, lipstick kisses smeared on every mirror. Clothes—half of them of questionably legality if worn in public—are strewn across the floor in a kaleidoscope of chaos.
Kaori is seated on the bathroom counter in a scarlet thong and an open kimono, legs spread just enough to scandalize the mirror, applying black eyeliner to Riley with meticulous care. “Stay still, baby. If you flinch, I’ll make you earn forgiveness with your tongue.”
Riley, eyes wide and lips parted, nods slowly, barely breathing. They’re already in a backless crop top and velvet harness, thighs trembling with anticipation.
Across the room, June is hot-gluing rhinestones to Sofia’s fishnets with hyper-focused glee. Sofia is perched on a velvet ottoman in a black lace corset and matching thigh-highs, one leg elegantly crossed. “You’re going to blind people when I walk,” Sofia murmurs, adjusting her glasses. June shrugs. “Well, good. It’ll be worth it.”
Isabella is brushing Chen’s hair, standing behind them in a sheer silver robe that glimmers every time she shifts. Chen’s in a chair, nude but for black heels and an open silk robe—their body already freshly powdered, oiled, and claimed.
She leans down, lips brushing their ear: “You’re not dressing tonight, my love. You’re being adorned.”
Gabriella saunters past, licking a cocktail cherry off her fingers, pausing only to drop a pearl chain around Kaori’s neck. “Our queen, our prize, and our slut—all in one. The Strip isn’t ready.”
Chen glances around the room and realizes:
They don’t just look good. They look un-fuck-with-able.
Music thumps from a Bluetooth speaker—deep bass and sultry vocals. (Kaori’s personal playlist, of course.) The suite now smells of champagne, perfume, and unholy promise.
The center of the room is a makeshift altar of sin supplies— A mirrored tray of rainbow shots lined up like a Pride Flag. A velvet pouch full of dare dice, with labels like “foreplay,” “public,” and “Chen.” Body glitter, edible gold flakes, and something Isabella simply calls “the potion.”
Kaori spins the dice first. They land on: “Tease someone with ice in your mouth.”
She locks eyes with Chen, drops to her knees, and slowly rolls an ice cube across her tongue before wrapping her lips around their cock—not to bring them off, just to make them ache. Her mouth is freezing and velvet at once. Chen moans. She grins.
Sofia, lounging on the bed, rolls hers: “Make someone confess a fantasy.”
She pulls Riley into her lap and murmurs into their ear. Riley shivers and whispers: “I…I…I want to be tied down and fed everyone’s kisses until I cry.”
June’s turn. She rolls.
“Flash a window.”
She struts to the balcony, throws the sheer curtains wide, yanks up her fishnet top, and flashes the Vegas skyline. “SUCK IT, SIN CITY!”
Chen is breathless, already half-hard, and hasn’t even left the room yet.
Gabriella, stroking their thigh, murmurs: “Save your energy, sweetheart. The Strip doesn’t end until we make it scream.”
The VIP elevator ride is its own chapter of chaos.
Chen stands in the middle—robe open, collarbone glowing, cum-light still in their eyes. Kaori, now in a high-slit cheongsam, adjusting Chen’s collar like she owns them. June, barefoot, sipping champagne from a to-go cup, dragging glitter across Gabriella’s thigh. Sofia, slow-dancing with Riley to music only they can hear, one hand on Riley’s ass, the other gently caressing their chin.
When the elevator dings at the club level, Isabella pulls Chen close, kisses their cheek, and purrs: “This is your kingdom. Let them watch you walk through it.”
As the doors slide open, every head turns.
Because they know—this isn’t just a group.
This is a harem in heat. This is the reason that The Strip will never be the same.