One Night Bride

by Sarah J. Brooks

  I laughed. “I’ll see your lap dance with accidental dick slippage and raise you a fucking hot ass, a tattoo, and a wedding,” I said with pride, not usually being ‘one of the guys’ in such a vulgar way. “She was lovely.”

  I looked around the room for my underwear and pants, which happened to be my favorite in the new line, not wanting to have this chat with Damon naked, and found that they were gone.

  “Where did my clothes go?” I asked, truly wondering.

  “You mean these?” Damon leaned over and picked up Arcadia’s gauzy dress and tiny lace thong underwear.

  “She stole my clothes?” I asked the air.

  “I’m sure she stole more than that, asshole. This is Vegas, and you just got so fucking played. You get dressed, and I’ll call the police. I’ll have to postpone the golf game, boo hoo. I’m sure you didn’t want to go anyway,” he said getting up out of the chair.

  “Wait on the police a moment. She may just be getting us breakfast or something. Let’s not get all crazy. She’s lovely, Damon. You’d adore her. I’d have to fight you off her actually,” I snarked.

  “Um, I am getting married,” he warned, “next weekend.”

  “To a trophy wife you’re going to end up hating. Trust me, dicks don’t slip unless they’re already a little slippery. You should be blinded by love, brother. If you were, the idea of cheating on her should make you sick.” I leaned over to the drawer next to the bed to pull out a pair of underwear that I put on under the sheets.

  I traveled so much; I hated living out of a suitcase. I always put my clothes away in the drawers and closets when I arrived at a hotel. I didn’t like feeling like I was away from home, and that little touch always helped. Damon’s face drained a little color knowing at least part of what I’d said was true.

  “Well, at least I’m not blinded by lust. I’ll give you a minute to get yourself together, but I suggest you call your bank before you do anything and find out how much money is still left in there … if any. I’ll be back in ten, then I expect to hear the whole story. I must admit, I’m pretty horrified Xavier, but also very impressed. This is all so not you, bravo!” he said in a condescending tone, the bastard.

  I grabbed my cell phone and went to my online banking app while I got dressed. I breathed a sigh of relief; every penny was still there. I checked my wallet, the same. The five thousand in cash was still in neat rows bundled by one thousand. If she’d taken any of it, it wasn’t much. I then looked in the bathroom and out on the balcony to see if she hid when she heard Damon enter. Knowing her as I almost did, it would be something she’d consider, not wanting to disrupt my real life.

  She was nowhere to be found and, as promised, Damon came back expecting answers.

  “Nothing’s missing,” I confirmed as I paced the room.

  “Yet? Nothing’s missing yet. Does she have your info? Did you sign a marriage certificate? Where’s that?”

  I looked to the dresser next to where her clothes lay in a heap after Damon dropped them. On the dresser was my wallet, phone, and the receipt for the rings, but no marriage license.

  “Fuck,” I blurted out. “I either left it at the drive-through wedding chapel thing or she took it. God, my head fucking hurts. Get me some Le Coix and a breakfast sandwich while I sort this all out, will ya?” I barked at Damon, distraught, confused, pissed off.

  “Yes, Master,” he bowed, arrogant prick. “Remember you’re here for MY bachelor party. I don’t need this drama,” he threw out at me. “Go get your own shit,” he said, plopping into a chair.

  “Fine, I’ll just tell Crystal you fucked the lap dancer. It serves the purpose I came here for nicely.” I flashed an evil grin. God, my head hurt.

  “And what the hell does that mean?” Damon asked looking a little less cocky and a bit more fearful.

  “I don’t think you should marry Crystal. She’s a pig, and you’ll be divorced in a year after she’s siphoned off all of your money, making you pay her half your salary for the rest of her life. My guess is she’ll hire a shark lawyer and find some way to screw you harder than you screwed the lap dancer,” I growled.

  “This from a man who just married a thief after knowing her for less than twenty-four hours, that’s rich,” Damon said as he got up, walked out the hotel room, and slammed the door.

  I screamed at the door, “Egg and ham sand and a triple espresso.

  He was right; I was an idiot. I had to get my head on straight; where could she be? I looked at my phone on the dresser and thought of calling her, but I didn’t even get her phone number. Yes, that was brilliant, marry a woman, which was completely idiotic, and don’t get so much as a last name, let alone any contact information. Well, she did tell me her last name, but I was so drunk, I couldn’t begin to think of it. I just called her Arcadia Dean; it sounded right. Why would she take the marriage license?

  Then it hit me. She was probably going to go to the tabloids. Why risk jail time stealing from my bank account when you could sell information that would defame me for much more money? My heart fell to my knees. I was so wrong. I just didn’t think she was the kind of person to do such a thing. I guess it could have been worse; most people thought I was gay. There was a pretty popular internet theory that I was actually gay and some model confirmed it. The women and the womanizing were just a ploy to throw people off the truth.

  I knew the jerk who claimed I was gay. He was an aggressive little meth user who tried to get in my pants more times than I could count. He was a popular print model and was practically the face of menswear, but he’d come to one too many photo shoots high or late, and I fired him. Shocking to discover I was gay just after that, and he had proof, personal knowledge no one could check, of nights we’d spent together … in his dreams. It was a messy bit of public relations, but as my agent constantly told me, all PR is good PR. “It adds a bit of intrigue,” my agent encouraged. I guess he was right. Women still wanted me, and I was able to bed them pretty regularly. My clothes were still hot and sought after, so no harm no foul. The poor man had already ruined his life with drugs and now was in jail for blackmailing a photographer, so in the end, I was a winner.

  I felt sadness creep in. Arcadia seemed different. Just as I was about to launch myself into a full-fledged pity party, Damon bound in with breakfast.

  “You can’t tell Crystal,” he said nearly hurling the food at me. “She’d end it for sure. And despite what you think of her, I do love her. I have no fucking clue why you married a criminal on a whim, but I actually do love Crystal. I was just drunk and terrified that in a week hers was going to be the only pussy I’d ever touch again. I freaked, okay? Do me a solid and keep it between us. Imagine sticking your dick into the same hole every night forever. I like Crystal’s VJ and all her bits, but I just had a moment. Isn’t that what bachelor parties are for? You’re supposed to have one last hurrah. And honestly, all it did was prove I loved her and her vagina enough to marry them. I doubt you have that with your little criminal bride.” He was being honest, this was real for him.

  I had to back down.

  “If Arcadia comes back, we’re likely to have our marriage immediately annulled. I give you credit, Damon for making the commitment. You’re a better man than I am,” I said unwrapping the sandwich and taking a healthy bite, “and thank you for this.” I raised the sandwich to him. “I’m a beast without breakfast.”

  “You’re telling me.” He rolled his eyes and smiled.

  Chapter 10

  Arcadia

  I couldn’t shake the feelings of sadness and nausea that kept hitting me in waves. I was so lost when I got into the car.

  “Where to?” the driver asked after we pulled away from the Bellagio Hotel.

  “Greyhound bus station, please,” I said quietly.

  I needed to get as far away from the strip as I could. I also needed clothes, but I couldn’t take the time to shop for them here. Maybe there’d be something at the bus station. Maybe I’d wear Xavier’s shirt and pant
s all the way to Costa Rica. I nestled myself deeper into his crisp white cotton shirt. I smelled like him, and that made me feel comfortable and safe. It also made me feel very sad.

  I was planning on giving him the ring back, so he could get his money back for it, and I didn’t really want to steal the marriage license; it was just, if I had to change my name, if it came to that, I could. He probably thinks I stole them to prove I was married to him. He must hate me. That’s all I could think while sitting at the bus station waiting for my one o’clock bus to Mexico City. It was going to be a forty-eight-hour drive. Forty-eight hours on a bus. In Mexico City, I would transfer to another bus that would take me to Costa Rica, and again it would be another few days to get there.

  I hadn’t called my Aunt Claudia to tell her I was coming. I figured I’d do it when I was out of the country and could buy a phone. I was going to live on a faith for the next few days, hoping I’d make it to Costa Rica safely and that Claudia actually still lived there. All of what lay ahead of me made my heart race with fear, but what was chasing behind me scared me more, so I closed my eyes and forgave myself for leaving Xavier without saying anything and going on the run. The consequences were too dire.

  I half expected my father to bound through the door, but he never did. I couldn’t find a clothing store, but there was a small gift shop. I bought a backpack, a few snacks, a shirt that said Vegas in bright blue; it was either that or pink and a pair of shorts also sporting Vegas on them. There was nothing in the shop that didn’t have Vegas emblazoned on it, and the two items I did pick were the least garish.

  When my bus rolled up, I felt another wave of relief. With it came an equally powerful feeling of sadness as I entered the bus and found a seat tucked away in the back. There was no way Xavier was ever going to find me. Perhaps I’d call his office one day and try to explain it all to him. Even though I wasn’t a thief or a liar, I felt like both. How had something so happy turned so horribly sad? I kept telling myself it would be sad regardless, this just made the sadness faster and more permanent.

  There was no way I could stay with a man like Xavier Dean; we were only going to last one day. Even though he teased about birth control and wanting more, it was just part of his charm. I had proof he wasn’t gay, which made the other rumors truer. He had many women. I was just one of them. He was probably getting his tattoo removed already. It was just a dream. I still felt him inside of me, still sore from our lovemaking. It was only uncomfortable because I wanted him to soothe the soreness and to fill me again. The emptiness was becoming unbearable.

  Just the thought of him filling me so completely had me getting wet again. I decided to think of other things because I didn’t want to ruin the only pair of underwear and pants I had to wear for the next forty-eight hours. Which brought me to thoughts of my treacherous father. No wonder my mother left him. I would. If he treated her half as badly as he treated me, I would have left everything behind too … well, probably not my baby, but who was I to judge? She was free of him, just as I had hoped to be.

  The bus had personal entertainment centers at each seat, which I was grateful for. I’d just binge watch movies to try and take my mind off things. A nice elderly woman sat beside me in the aisle seat, and since she didn’t speak much English, it would be a long, peaceful, albeit boring ride.

  I slept for a few hours having slept very little the night before. Dreams filled my slumbering vision, and since I fell asleep so quickly, I didn’t know what was real and what were dreams. I felt the sun coming in from the bus window, hot and intense; however, despite the sun, sleep claimed me easily; the sun only a distant irritation.

  I was on a tiny coastal beach; the sun was hot above us. Xavier and I lay together on the warm sand. I knew it was a private beach, and we would not be disturbed. We owned the land around us, and the vast ocean ahead was the only way to reach us without crossing our property. We owned everything in sight. Our wealth felt powerful but greedy and overwhelming. In my mind, I was considering telling Xavier that we needed to share the land; it was much too much for the two of us, but the moment on the beach was small, sensual, and intimate. There would be time for those discussions later.

  I could hear the waves lapping on the shore; it was a comforting sound, one that put me at peace. We laid on a huge soft blanket, the sand at our fingertips. Xavier was lounging beside me, and we were naked in the sun. His semi-erect cock was lilting over his leg, the tip just brushing across the hair on his strong thighs. After having made love several times already, I was exhausted, and my tired pussy was aching from his passions, but still, it wanted more.

  I couldn’t get enough of him. I drew my hands across his strong muscular chest. Tanned from the sun, his skin was still soft like a baby’s. I rounded my fingers over his nipples and watched them peak. They were both so tender to my touch.

  He smiled and grabbed my hand. “Arcadia.” He was firm but playful. “We should get some rest,” he scolded seductively.

  “I don’t want to sleep.” I pouted like a child, letting my hand dance farther down his chest.

  “I know.” His voice was laced with slight irritation.

  My hand wrangled out of his grasp and continued to trail down to the patch of hair just above his soft cock. I loved his hair. I loved the way it defined the edges of his manhood. And the shape of his strong legs, bordering his massive member, was both strong and muscular, but lean. How I’d felt the power of those legs on me, driving his thrusts into me, holding me on them as I sat on him grinding down hard. I loved his legs, his chest, his toes, his face, his eyes, but I loved his heart the most. He was warm and gentle. He could be strong and commanding with others but not with me. I was his equal, his partner. He never ordered me unless it was playful or sexual. We chose to agree, to negotiate, to respect each other in our marriage, every day.

  I slipped my hand over his strong muscular legs, tickling the skin, watching the hairs rise. His heavy balls hung softly under his impressive cock as if they were calling to me. My hand inched its way down to them.

  “Arcadia,” Xavier warned.

  I just wanted to touch his skin, taste him.

  “You can’t possibly be recovered enough from the last time yet,” he reasoned as his breath started to hitch as I slid down his body and nuzzled my nose into his soft sack.

  It smelled like manliness, the sea, and sandalwood scented soap.

  “I can possibly be,” I teased as my tongue tasted him sucking one ball sack into my mouth and then the other. My mouth then moved to lick from the bottom of his shaft to his glistening tip.

  “By all means, then please continue.” His voice was relenting, almost joyful as he put his hands behind his head and peered down at me.

  His cock started to inflate, responding sweetly to my touch. I spread his legs before me and kissed up and down his thighs. My face, intermittently nestling into his balls, licking the soft salty taste. This had him growing harder. My hand helped him along, easing his foreskin up and over the head of his dick and downward again. His cock became more slick and moist as I continued to stroke his skin, my thumb tickling the head of his cock, so lightly it was like a breeze. I knew this made him crazy.

  “You’re torturing me,” he groaned.

  I kissed the glistening mushroom head and watched liquid dribble from the slit, readying himself for me. His cock grew in my mouth, and I slid it down to my throat, taking every inch I could. He became even harder as my mouth pumped up and down, wanting as much of him as I could handle.

  His hand urgently came to my head as I sucked his shaft, easing himself into my throat and out again, gently so as not to hurt me, letting me partner with him in finding his pleasure. I’d gotten better at everything. I knew every inch of his body and how to bring him arousal in so many different ways. I loved to experiment, loved to bring him joy and release. He was rock solid by the time my mouth was done.

  I sat up and crawled on my knees to position myself on top of him. It was one of my favorite p
ositions because it let me guide how much of him I took at the beginning while my pussy stretched and accommodated his size. I first slid up and down on him slowly as he groaned and closed his eyes, reeling in sensation.

  “God, Arcadia, you feel so good, sweetheart,” he said as his hand caressed the sides of my lean tanned body.

  “So do you, baby,” I purred as I pressed him deeper into me, my hips finding a faster rhythm and speed.

  Our lovemaking wasn’t urgent, but tender and passionate. I rolled and undulated on him, bringing him in closer to my center, my wetness slicking the both of us. Up and down on him I rode, feeling his hardness cut across my insides, raking the walls of my vagina with mind-blowing sensation. A mix of pain and pleasure, all winding up my insides tighter and tighter. A few more thrusts, and I found my first release as my pussy clenched around him, tightening down on him as my thighs froze, my body quaking with delight.

  “I love the way your face looks when you are in the throes of passion,” he rasped as I cascaded down from my orgasm, twisting in the wind like a dying ember.

  His hands found my ass, sweetly caressing it, pulling the cheeks apart and letting the wind touch my bare pussy so inflamed and reddened with my release. The air hit the ambrosia that was coating both of us and cooled our sexes. I wanted more, the cold blast of air feathering desire over my ravaged nerves. Without warning, he sat up and grabbed me, his mouth claiming mine. His tongue was hot and greedy, lapping at my mouth as I slid down on him more, lodging his cock deeper into me. I winced a little, having it almost touch my cervix, and he used his hands to ease me off him some.

  His mouth became soothing and sweet.

  “I could eat you up,” he growled as he laid me down on the blanket, his hard body enveloping mine.

  His fingers then spread my nether lips apart finding the sensitive button at my center. He rubbed it harshly and softly as he often did, sending lightning bolts in all different directions … winding me up again. I felt the sun beating down on our faces, my hips undulating and rocking under his. My arms drew him in closer as he quickened his pace, pulling out of me and thrusting back in. I felt the air breeze my gaping hole, missing the fullness when he used my incredible wetness to slide back in, over and over again.