by Jolie Day
I feel her tits edging away from me, much to my dismay. The lights of the city stream in through the open curtains, glowing along the curves of her face and body. Charlie’s head pops up suddenly, and she somehow still looks impossibly gorgeous, even with her smeared makeup.
“What happened?” she groans, not bothering to move her arm that’s draped across my chest.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” A bottle of water on the nightstand catches my attention, and I reach over to take a swig before offering it to her.
“Yes, thank you.” She holds up her hand, her voice raspy from all the laughing. At least from the puzzle of memories I can put together, she was laughing—a lot. Good. I’m glad she had a great time with me. Not that I’m surprised.
She glances around, probably trying to piece together what we did or how we got here and takes several sips. But she’s quickly distracted by the sight of me lying next to her. She stares at me in confusion, our heads still swimming in our half-drunk daze, but something else takes over—a hunger to taste each other again. Fuck, I gotta have her.
I roll over, careful not to crush her with my weight, my lips immediately crashing against hers. She meets me with the same fervor, and I don’t waste any time in snaking my fingers between her legs. Her dress is still on, but Charlie’s not wearing any panties. Kinky girl. And thank God. One less thing to worry about.
“Joel,” she moans out in the darkness as I stroke her. I’m turned on even more by how wet she is.
I kiss along her neck while my fingers work, taking in the scent of her wavy hair and the softness of her warm skin. As my tongue darts into her mouth, I let my fingers do the same dance—moving in, pulling out, going back in again. She writhes against the sheets, gasping against my mouth.
My free hand moves to her tits, followed by my mouth. “Your body’s so fucking perfect,” I groan into her chest, kissing around each puckered nipple. It only makes her squirm and pant harder, and my desire pounds to an almost painful level. But I won’t let myself thrust inside her until I’ve tasted her and watched her come.
I kiss down the length of her body, finally resting my head between her legs to run my tongue across her perfect little clit. A soft moan escapes her. I lightly stroke it before teasing the flesh in endless circles. She tastes sweet, and I can’t resist lapping it up, sucking her in and sliding my fingers back inside of her. She bucks her hips, pressing against my face. I lean in, pushing her over the edge. She cries out, pulling and clawing at the hair on the back of my head. The more she writhes and moans, the harder I press my mouth to her while my fingers move faster. I get her through one orgasm and continue as it fades and another one builds.
“How do you do that?” she whispers breathlessly when she crashes from the second orgasm.
“Do what?”
“How do you always make me come twice in a row like that?”
“Easy.” I kiss up her inner thigh. “It’s pure instinct, babe.” I’m operating at five percent brain power at the moment (if that), but she’s getting the raw, uncensored experience. “You love it, don’t you?”
I pull away, noticing how my dick’s throbbing, hard as steel. She eyes me with hunger, licking her lips and pulls me over her. I spread her legs wide and put the tip of my cock in front of her entrance. Inch by inch, I ease my way inside.
We both watch as I fill her to the hilt. The sight of her sprawled out, thrashing her head back and gasping with each thrust forward, is almost enough to make me lose it. I take my time at first, wanting to make this last.
I pick up my pace, loving the sight of her and grabbing her breasts as she cries out into the dark. The more my pleasure builds, I’ve got to brace myself on my arms, blanketing her body with my own. With our faces so close, the hot breath of our moaning brushes against our ears and necks. I pound harder and faster, feeling everything seize up inside until finally, I pour my release into her.
The moment I come, my body feels like it’s been obliterated—completely emptied of every last ounce of energy. The surge of how much we drank hits me again, and all I can do is lay my body next to her and fall asleep, still inside of her. Just as I’m fading, I jerk my eyes open again, feeling bad for passing out right away. But she’s already dead asleep, too, and looking angelic while she’s at it.
However the fuck we got here, it’s not the time to ask questions.
When my eyes close again, I think to myself, I don’t know what the hell happened tonight, but whatever it was…I’m glad it did.
13
Charlie
As I wake, the sun streams across the messy hotel room with blinding brightness across clothes and empty miniature liquor bottles that are strewn all over the floor with random poker chips. My stomach itches from the sequins of my dress scraping against my skin, which I realize is all knotted up around my waist, revealing my nakedness.
And, there’s a man snoring under my body.
My head aches as I lift myself up a bit, relieved and terrified to see Joel sleeping like a rock. But the room is bigger than I remembered. Did we end up back at his place? I remember running into him at one of the bars, but everything beyond that is a blur. I recall having been surprised how suddenly excited and nervous I’d been when he’d actually appeared. I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever been that excited being face-to-face with a man.
I smack my hand to my pounding head as I sit up further, feeling suddenly desperate for about five gallons of ice-cold water—anything to wash down the lingering taste of syrupy liquor on my tongue that’s making me nauseous.
I pull the spaghetti straps of my dress over my shoulders, covering my breasts, and make a bold attempt to climb out of bed, nearly stumbling over as I try to move past the dizziness. I’m somewhere between still drunk and the worst hangover of my life. I have no way of remembering if I did anything to regret last night, beyond the obvious clues that hint to us having hooked up—again. Oh, yes.
The warm memory of that is almost enough to make me feel better. It comes crashing back with vivid clarity. Some time in the middle of the night, I remember him taking me into his mouth, drawing out two explosive orgasms—again. Everything after that was just as amazing. Remembering it now is like opening a present on Christmas morning. But the fluttering in my chest isn’t quite enough to chase away my headache or the uneasiness in my stomach.
A deep grumbling escapes Joel’s mouth as he sleeps deeply. How handsome and peaceful he looks. I decide the best thing to do is quickly gather my things and sneak back to my own room. I can freshen up at least, and we’ll piece together the…mistakes of last night some other time, when I look and feel human again.
I dip into the bathroom and scrub away the dark trails of leftover makeup from around my eyes, doing my best to pat my hair down into something suitable enough so I can leave the room. I have a rash on my neck and around my mouth from his unforgiving stubble, and I’m already dreading the walk of shame, having to pass by hotel guests and staff while the ground is still swaying beneath my feet.
Once my face is as presentable as it’s going to get, I go back into the room to try and track down all of my things. I snatch up my clutch, which is empty. Great. I’ll have to figure out where my credit cards and panties are (thanks, Nora!) in the middle of this mess. I grab my driver’s license next and stuff it inside my purse. As I’m shoving it in, the light catches something on my finger. I wear several rings, but suddenly I notice one that wasn’t there before.
“What the…?” I groan to myself, holding my hand up and attempting to get a good look in my blurry vision.
Glaring back at me from my shaky hand is a ring, one that I don’t own. Or at least didn’t own before now, not that I can remember.
It’s not just any ring.
It’s a big fat diamond.
And it’s on my left ring finger.
Oh, no.
Stay calm now. Don’t jump to conclusions. I shake my head, deciding I’ll have to figure that craziness out later after a big
breakfast and an even bigger nap. I go back to gathering up the rest of my belongings from the floor. Hanging from the chandelier, I find my panties and put them on, trying to act like it’s the most normal thing in the world. How the hell did my panties get up there? God, what did we do last night? I can’t remember anything for the life of me. I have to get out of here.
But when I come to my room key, which has “fallen out” into the far corner of the room, there are some papers laying on the floor underneath it. I grab the key, nearly dismissing the papers entirely, but the heading causes me to do a double take.
MARRIAGE LICENSE
The words are big and loud, like someone screaming in my ear.
I blink, thinking I must have misread them. But no. They stare back at me from the paper, just as real as the sunlight streaming in around me through the window.
“Oh. No.”
“What happened?” I hear Joel mumble from the bed.
I yank up the paper from the floor and stare at him, sitting up in bed completely naked as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. He’s actually pretty adorable with his scruffy hair and all his tattoos, but there’s no time for that now. My gaze darts back and forth from the paper to him, then back down to the ring on my finger.
“Joel.” I feel the panic rise in my chest as I speak. “Did we—”
“Did we what?” He grins innocently, obviously clueless to the evidence in my hands. He makes a suggestive hand movement and waggles his eyebrows. “That?”
I try to answer but can’t.
My throat tightens as the ring shines in the light, taunting me.
Joel picks up on my frozen, frightened state and comes over to get a closer look at whatever has me all shaken up. It doesn’t take him long to catch on, and soon he snatches the marriage license from me.
“Marriage Li…” He reads it over, looks at the ring, then back to me with an expression of terror. “No, no, no. We…we couldn’t have…”
“What did we do?” I scream as the reality of it permeates my shock.
Running my fingers through my hair, I leave him to study the document and break into a mad pace around the room.
“It looks like…we…got married.” He stares at me with his mouth hanging open.
“Why the hell would we do that?”
We’re both quiet for a moment as we rack our brains for any recollection of our ghastly mistake. “The closest thing I remember to making a decision to do something so stupid was when I was a child and thought I could use my red umbrella as a chute. Well, and more often than not, after having a few too many drinks…” I rattle off as things start coming back to me. “You joked about marrying me so I wouldn’t have to go back to London.”
“It was supposed to be a joke,” he defends with a half-smirk.
“Right. But if you made the same joke twenty drinks later,” I cry out, realizing exactly how something like this could have happened.
“Well, don’t blame me.” His smirk breaks into laughter, and I have half a mind to throw my shoe at his head—if I were wearing any or knew where to find them.
I feel as if I’m ready to burst, and he’s laughing? “You think this is funny?”
“No, it’s definitely not funny.” He straightens. “Well, it’s a little funny.”
“Are you insane?” I curl my hands into fists and half-shout, knowing the guests on this floor can likely hear me screaming. “We barely know each other! You’re my boss. We can’t be married.”
“I agree.” He sighs. “You’re right. Look, we’ll get this taken care of. I promise. But for now, let’s just calm down and get some breakfast before I feel sick.”
“I already feel sick,” I groan and try to find my shoes.
Joel looks over the marriage license again before tossing it down. He’s handling this better than I am—obviously—or maybe it’s just taking longer to fully hit him. But he marches over to me and grasps my shoulders with a comforting expression.
“Look, I know this is…a lot to wake up to. It’s not ideal, but people accidentally get ‘drunk married’ in Vegas all the time. We’ll just do whatever they do and get it annulled. Who cares? Before you know it, it’ll be like it never happened, and we’ll have one hell of a story to tell our friends.”
“No!” I shoot back vehemently. “No one can ever know about this. I can see it now…my mum and I have tea when I return to London. How was your time in America, dear? Oh, lovely, Mum…I got drunk as a skunk, and I got married and divorced from my boss!”
He chuckles again, but quickly composes himself after I stare him down with a death glare.
“Well, there is one other option.” He looks off, deep in thought.
“And just what is that?” I shriek, resentfully adjusting my stupid, tiny sequined dress that I now hate. Why does this damn strap keep falling from my shoulder? I remember thinking I could be anyone I wanted in it, but this is not what I had in mind.
“I’ve already told you. I’m not the relationship type.” He sits on the edge of the bed. “I’ve got no desire to ever get married.”
I squint my eyes at him, pointing out the irony of the marriage license just a few feet away from him on the bed.
“Married for real, I mean.” He shrugs. “We could just leave it the way it is. If we’re married, you could apply for citizenship, and you wouldn’t have to leave America. You could keep working at Embry. You did say you love the job.”
It’s a tempting thought, but I won’t let myself entertain it.
“You may not want to ever get married, but I do. Someday. Or I might. I don’t know. It’s the farthest thing from my mind right now. All I know is I can’t stay ‘fake’ married to my boss.”
He frowns, appearing a little defeated. “Okay, you’re probably right. I just wanted to help.”
He looks adorable with his bedhead, strands of dark-brown hair hanging around messily, and his little pout. Then my gaze trails down his body, and I realize he’s still very much naked, and somehow half-hard.
“Would you put some clothes on?” I scold bitterly, wishing we hadn’t just realized we got married last night so I could make the most of this time and see what it’s like to be with him in a bed in the morning.
“Whatever keeps the wifey happy.” He grins, but I am not amused.
Once I’ve finally tracked down both of my heels, I toss them over my shoulder by the strap, having no intention of putting them back on before returning to my room. As ill as I feel, the last thing I want to do is go stumbling through the hotel in heels.
Just before I turn to leave, he asks, “Is it a nice ring at least?”
“What?”
“The ring,” Joel repeats. “Did I at least get you a nice ring?”
The question completely throws me as I realize I never really looked at it in that way to make a verdict. Why would I? It’s not like it means anything, and I definitely can’t keep it. On that note, I decide to take it off my finger, but I humor Joel enough to examine it more closely before tossing it into my purse.
“Yes,” I confess in a begrudging tone. “It’s quite lovely. Perfect, in fact…if it had any real meaning behind it.”
He gives me the same incredulous expression I gave him moments ago when he mentioned never wanting to get married, even though the evidence of our marriage sat right there within reach.
The wave of sickness from our wild night hits me again, and I know I have to get out of there. Whatever humiliation I was worried about before with walking back to my room in this state is overshadowed by the new development of my drunken marriage. Married or not, I won’t have the cherry on top of this awful morning be him hearing me puking in the bathroom.
Later that afternoon, after I’ve showered, eaten, and slept as much as I could before racing off to catch my flight, I’m feeling physically recovered—mostly. But my gut still twists with a certain turmoil. It’s one I’ve never felt before, but I guess it makes sense. I’ve never been accidentally married before. It’s on
ly something that happens in bad romance novels.
But I can’t stop thinking about the look on Joel’s face. He seemed so unshaken and even amused by the whole thing. I have to bite back any urges to feel stupidly giddy at the fact that I’m now his wife, regardless of how it happened, at least for a little while. He even had the nerve to call me “wifey” and appear a little disappointed that I wouldn’t entertain the idea of staying married. I’m certain that idea will lose its appeal completely once he’s recovered from his own hangover. It’s better I turned it down straightaway rather than have him come to his senses later and have to take the whole thing back.
Surely any disappointment he feels is just over losing his procurement manager and new, “sometimes” fuck buddy. The moment I land, I’ll call a lawyer and have the whole thing annulled. Joel’s pockets are deep enough to cover any fees, if not deep enough to cover the embarrassment of me having to explain the whole thing to all the appropriate people to make it go away.
One way or another, it’ll get taken care of and soon be a regretful incident of the past. Sigh.
On the plane, with no one else around, I can’t help but pull the ring from my bag and take a closer look now that I’m more rested.
The large diamond sparkles in the light seeping in through the plane window. I twist and turn it, making all the little reflections dance against the glass. It really is a beautiful ring. What a shame it can’t stand for something more than just a night of lousy decisions in Vegas.
As I go to tuck it back into the pocket of my bag, something stops me. I do believe maybe one day I’ll get married…married for real, as Joel put it. But that’s years off into the unforeseeable future. And for now, however stupid it may have been, my ridiculously fit biker boss did marry me. No reason I can’t enjoy the ring, just for a bit, while no one is watching. And only on my right hand. Then it’s hardly a wedding ring at all. Right?
I glance around, making sure none of the passengers are staring at me. When the coast is clear, I slide the ring back on my finger. I hold it up a bit more into the light.