“I guess that explains the tattoo,” I said softly.
His eyes barely met mine, a hint of sadness behind them. “No, that was for my Meemaw. She used to sing me this old southern lullaby called Sleep My Baby. When she passed away I got the last few notes tattooed above my heart for her.”
“Oh ...” It was all I could muster. I actually had tears in my eyes. Truth be told, I really thought it was just some lame tattoo he got at eighteen like one he picked off the wall (which was exactly what the tribal symbol was that I had on the small of my back).
“And that’s where the idea came to move?” I asked, trying to change to a lighter subject.
He let out a short laugh. “No, that idea came when I quit working for my dad and he said that my ass had to have a job and not spend all my time fucking around with the guitar or else I wouldn’t have a place to live.”
“Oh ...I’m sorry ...” I didn’t know what else to say. I just kept bringing up all the shitty things. It wasn’t like I was privileged or anything. My dad walked out on my mom the year I started college and left her an emotional and financial wreck. I was lucky that I had a scholarship for school and a kickass internship that got me the job at my PR firm. All that I had, I worked for and was pure luck. But to Wes, I must have just looked like some spoiled bitch.
He put his bag down, taking slow methodical steps over to me. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, darlin’. At least you know where I’m coming from. I’ve got to make the best out of any situation and if it means that I have to move around for a while until I find the best one, then so be it.” Wes grabbed an acoustic guitar that was propped against the wall.
He was an internal optimist and I couldn’t hate him for that. I didn’t know what scared me more, that I had an accidental husband or that I was starting to really like the guy.
A Few Hours Later
"Ah! I can’t believe that's real!" Abbi screamed.
I pulled up my skirt, turning back toward her. We were cramped in one of the bathroom stalls in the hotel lobby, but she said she absolutely had to see my tattoo and wouldn’t stop bugging me about in our boring meeting.
"Yeah, and he has a matching one that says Mr. Wild."
"Awww, true love."
I rolled my eyes and pushed her out of the stall with me. "Yes, matching tattoos with my husband of less than twenty-four hours who I’ve known just as long as we've been married."
"Hey, it can’t be all bad if you saw his tattoo."
I pushed a strand of hair that fell out of my bun behind my ear. "That’s because dude doesn't like to put on clothes and I happened to notice it when he got out of bed this morning."
"I’m sure he got up in more ways than one." She winked.
"This isn’t funny! This is seriously real life." I leaned against the sink, putting my hands on the cool granite and letting out a deep breath.
"I know, I know, I’m sorry." She put her hand on my back. "So what are you going to do about it?"
"We fly back to Chicago in two days and my friend said she can hopefully get us a meeting with a divorce attorney on Monday, but until then, I’m the sugar mama for my now ex-stripper husband."
"Oh he's leaving the stripper world behind for you?"
I rolled my eyes. "He was only a stripper for like a few months to make money here. Who knows maybe he'll find a place to keep up his practice back in Chi-town."
An older lady in a bedazzled sweater came into the bathroom, giving us a polite smile. I wondered if she heard any of our conversation.
"Should we get back to the meeting?" I pushed off the counter.
Abbi sighed. "I guess, though I’d rather hear more about Mr. Wild's tattoos."
***
"Shut the fuck up! No he is not coming back with you!" Pam practically spit her drink all over the table.
Our meetings were over for the day and after sitting through hours of listening to a guy drone on about branding, I had a giant headache so I agreed to grab a quick bite with Pam and Abbi.
"He is. But just until the divorce is final, then he can do whatever the hell he wants," I said, poking at my salad. I really should have just ordered a cheeseburger.
"You know, my divorce took six months before it was finalized. What will you do if it takes that long?" Abbi asked.
I shrugged. "Roll with it, I guess."
"Or what if you actually fall in love with him and you don't want to go through with the divorce?" Pam asked, raising her eyebrows.
I snorted, practically choking on my food. "I don't do love and especially not with a random guy that I got drunk with and married in Vegas."
"Stranger things have happened ..." Abbi mused.
I sighed. "Look, I’ll put it out there in my no-holds-barred, Valerie Wilder way. Guys like Wes want one thing from a girl like me. They'll screw the chubby chick or use her for money or homework assignments, but when it comes to things like love and forever, that’s reserved for the pretty chicks."
"You aren't trying to give us a pity party now, are you?" Abbi asked flicking her strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder.
"Nope. Just stating the facts. Not going to kid around and pretend like this is going to be some glamorous fairy-tale romance."
I may have said the words, but truth was, I did want the fairy tale. Someday, that is. Maybe not with Wes. Maybe with my second marriage. I wanted the guy who would sweep me off my feet. The guy who would love me for me. But marrying a stripper in Vegas just proved how far away from that dream I really was.
A Half an Hour Later
I slid the keycard into my door and pushed it open. The TV was blaring but quieted as soon as I walked in.
"Hey, sorry about that." Wes stood up from the bed. He had changed out of the ridiculous Vegas shirt and into a pair of cargo shorts and a fitted black T-shirt, which gave me an even better view of his toned legs. The guy had to be a regular at the gym. He could have been a personal trainer. He did say he got injured playing football, but I wondered how long ago it actually was.
"Oh, it’s no problem. Sorry I left you up here all day." I took a few more steps in the room and stopped when I saw a dry cleaning bag draped over the chair and all my clothes folded next to it. “What’s this?” I pointed to the bag.
He glanced at the clothes. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind. I know the lady that does the costumes for Cirque over at the Mirage so I asked if she could dry clean your stuff and had the rest of it washed. I figured it was the least I could do instead of sitting around all day.”
I swallowed, hard. Even though I didn’t like the idea of him seeing my clothing size it was one of the sweetest things a guy had done for me. Which showed how much of a love life I actually had.
“Well, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” I let out a deep breath and took a few steps to the bed, kicking my heels off and sitting down.
He took the seat next to me and lifted my feet into his lap. I gasped until he brought his fingers to my ankles and started kneading them with his palms. Then, instead of being shocked, a soft moan escaped my lips.
He grinned. "Hard day of meetings?"
His hands continued to work their magic up and down the length of my foot and it took a lot of effort to form a cognitive thought. "Not hard. Just long. I’m ready for a shower and bed."
"Mind if I join you?" He raised his eyebrows, his fingers lying still on my feet.
What the hell did I have to lose? I was already married to the guy, might as well have some fun with him. I yanked my bun out, letting my hair fall in loose waves over my shoulders. "I don't mind at all."
The grin spread wider on his face before he leaned back and peeled his shirt off, tossing it on the bed beside of him. I gripped onto his biceps, my fingers trailing along the lines of his arms.
Wes leaned over and ever so gently pressed his lips to mine, as if he were afraid to do it. I let him know he had my permission by fisting his hair and deepening our kiss, running my tongue along his irresistible lips.
"I’ve been thinking about this all day," he whispered into my chest before he nibbled at the tops of my boobs that spilled out from my bra.
"I doubt that," I said with a gasp as he unhooked my bra and peeled it off my shoulders before his warm mouth was on my nipples, his teeth nipping at them slightly.
I guess if we were moving fast, he didn't want to waste any time. "Shower. Now." I could barely get the words out as his soft tongue drew circles on my chest.
He grinned and looked up at me. "There's nothing I’d rather do than get you wet."
He sat up, pulling me with him until we were both standing, then he walked backward, guiding me until we were in the bathroom. I was so turned on I couldn't get him naked fast enough, clawing at the button of his shorts and yanking them down as quickly as I could.
"Damn, you don't waste any time, do you?" The grin was so wide on Wes's face it must have hurt.
"I can stop if you want me to," I breathed, hoping he wouldn't say no or I would have to spend the night double clicking my own mouse.
He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. "Hell no I don't want to stop." With that, he pressed his lips to mine, his tongue teasing my bottom lip.
I moaned into him and put my hands at the waistband of his boxers. He smiled beneath the kiss as one hand massaged my breast and the other one unzipped my skirt, letting it fall to my ankles before I stepped out of it. There was nothing between us but the thin fabric of our underwear.
He broke the kiss gently. “Let me get the water started.”
He walked backward until he was at the large shower that was big enough for at least five people. He turned around and I got a great view of his tight ass as he turned on the water, keeping his hand underneath it, probably checking the temperature.
Wes turned slowly back around to face me and then slipped his boxers off, kicking them aside. He was primed and ready, something I wasn’t used to. Usually the guys I hooked up with were half cocked and it took me forever to get them going. He reached into his discarded shorts, fishing through his pockets.
“If you’re looking for a condom, you don’t need it. I’m on the pill.”
He looked up at me, a slight smile on his face. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m clean. Mandatory part of the job to get checked. But I can go get a condom if you need me to.”
I slipped my panties off, kicking them at him so he caught them just as he dropped his pants. “I’m absolutely sure about that, husband.”
His smile spread to an all-out grin as I walked past him and stepped into the shower. He smacked my ass just before I stepped fully in and I let out a little yelp. “Get yer ass in there, Mrs. Wild,” he said with a laugh.
I yanked him in the shower with me by his bicep. He closed the door behind us, letting the water fall over his muscular frame and form small droplets on his kissable lips.
“Are you saying you like it rough, Wild, Wild Wes?” I cocked an eyebrow.
He pushed me back against the ceramic wall of the shower, his hands pressed beside me and his hardness firmly sitting at my belly button. “I can go as rough and wild as you want it, darlin’”
“Prove it.” I bucked my hips to meet his. We fit perfectly together. There was no standing on my tippy toes of him needing to crouch down.
A devilish grin spread on his face as he grabbed my right leg, lifting it up and wrapping it around his waist. He pressed himself into me and I let out a small whimper as I felt his fullness take hold of me.
“Damn, baby, you feel good,” he hissed into my neck before thrusting hard.
I gripped my fingernails into his ass, pushing him deeper into me and causing a low groan to emit from his throat. He continued pressing into me, over and over, my back slamming into the ceramic wall of the shower. I found a quick release thanks to how big he was—not to mention his piercing, which had a direct connection to my Gspot.
“That’s it, baby, come for me again,” he whispered into my ear, and then his lips trailed down to my breast, tugging my nipple with his teeth. My body shuddered underneath his and my orgasm took over, causing my knees to shake. I felt like I was going to fall on my ass but then Wes grabbed my other leg, hosting it up and around his waist so he carried my full weight.
I gasped, “Are you sure you can hold me?”
His eyes met mine, full of lust and carnal desire. “I can hold you all night long if I’m going to have this effect on you.”
He slammed into me again, causing another wave of pleasure to come over me.
“Fuck,” he groaned and his shoulders shook feverishly before he went completely still. I dropped my legs to the floor and he pressed his head against my chest, breathing in the same pattern as my heartbeat.
We stayed like that for what seemed like forever until he lifted his head, the water falling over his face. I wiped a few droplets from his lips and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “That was amazing,” he said. “You sure you still want this divorce?”
“Great sex doesn’t exactly mean a great marriage,” I whispered.
He pulled out of me, stepping back. “You’re probably right.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you in bed, okay?”
“Um, okay?”
With that he turned and got out of the shower, leaving me there wondering what the hell just happened and what the future held for me and Mr. Wild.
The Next Day
My credit card was usually stored at the back of my wallet. I tried to only use it when I really needed to. And buying a plane ticket for my accidental husband was definitely a case that I really needed to use it.
“That flight to Chicago is how much?”
My eyes practically bugged out of their sockets when the lady repeated the number. I heard her the first time, but was hoping maybe it would change.
“$1,052.80 to get on that same flight. We could do a later flight that goes through Denver and Omaha and you could get in the next morning at 6:10,” the lady said the words with a deep sigh, like this was a big chore for her to do her job.
I sighed and looked at Wes, who just had that damn grin on his face that caused me to get drunk and hitched to him in the first place. “You’d better be worth this,” I muttered.
“Okay, I’ll take the first flight. Charge it to my Visa,” I told the lady.
I rattled off my credit card number and then wrote down the confirmation number she gave me before hanging up the phone and falling back onto the giant hotel pillows. In less than forty-eight hours I’d judged a contest in Vegas, got married, found out I couldn’t get legally divorced unless I did it back in Chicago, and then invited my new stripper husband back with me. And I almost forgot to mention that my new stripper husband was extremely hot. And VERY good in bed.
“I wish I could have paid for that, darlin’, but you know ... no credit card.” Wes crawled onto the bed, hovering over me, his bright green eyes fixated on me. He knew that calling me darlin’ was one of the things that made me melt. The guy was too good at what he did. But good sex and a hot body didn’t mean a good marriage. Especially when said stripper husband was an aspiring musician and looking for my ass to be his sugar mama.
I closed my eyes. “Yeah. I know.”
He pressed his lips to my temple and then kissed down my jawline to my neck before resting his chin between my breasts. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
I opened my eyes and met his. “I’m really not in the mood for sex right now.”
He sat up. “Not everything is about sex.” He slowly crawled off the bed and picked up the beat-up acoustic guitar that we had to bring back from his apartment.
I propped myself up on my elbows and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to sing?”
He slung the guitar strap over his shoulder and strummed a few chords. “I told you that I was a musician. Do you think I just carry this thing around as part of my act to get women?”
>
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
A slow smile appeared on his face. “Then I just have to prove you wrong.” He took a few steps closer and strummed a few chords, humming along to them. Then he played a few notes that I recognized.
He started in with a soft hum, then he opened his mouth and it was pure, panty-dropping gold. I didn’t think Wild World by Cat Stevens was a sexy song until I heard Wes sing it. His accent came through with a smoky edge to it. If I could have fucked his voice right there, I would have.
When he got through the chorus again he stopped playing and looked at me with his eyes shining. “Still think it’s just something I pretend to do to get women?”
It took me a minute before I could finally talk again and when I did I felt like a nervous teenage girl about to speak to her crush and had to clear my throat a few times. “No. Definitely not. I mean, not that I really thought you used it just to get women. But—”
Wes leaned over his guitar, lightly pressing his lips to mine. “Darlin’, sometimes you talk too much.”
“Then maybe you should do something to shut me up.” I raised my eyebrows. What could I say? The guy was amazing in the bedroom. If I was going to be married to a male stripper for a few more weeks at least I could enjoy it.
He set his guitar down on the floor and then slowly crawled up the bed until he was hovering over me. “What did you have in mind?”
I yanked his shirt collar, pulling him down until his lips met mine, his hard body pressed against me. But just as his tongue grazed my lips a knock came at the door.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes looking into mine. Damn, he had beautiful eyes. “Should you get that?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s probably just room service or something.” I leaned up on my elbows. “BUSY, COME BACK LATER.”
The person at the door either didn’t hear me or chose to ignore it and knocked even harder.
One Wild Night (Forever Wild) Page 4
