Chasing The O

by LaBelle, Lorelai

  Vince ground his teeth with a look that said he was about to strangle the man. “Is she all right?” he chose to say instead.

  “She was stabbed in her left kidney, which had to be removed immediately. There’s no threat of renal failure . . .” His words echoed in my head as he elaborated. “Surgery went as well as one could hope, and given time, she should recover with no lasting physical limitations.”

  “Can we see her?” Vince asked, a little snappish.

  The doctor handled Vince’s tone, keeping his calm attitude, his gentle voice never wavering. “I’m afraid she’s still too fragile for visitors. We’ll let you know as soon as you can see her.” He left soon after that.

  My friends and Donny trickled out of the waiting room after they knew I was all right, leaving only Eric, Vince, and me.

  We waited all morning with our stomachs tied in torturous, apprehensive knots.

  27

  HERE COMES THE BRIDE

  “Are you ready?” Alma asked, adjusting my train. Wearing her purple bridesmaid dress, she looked fantastic. In fact, all of my bridesmaids looked great, as they sat waiting for the wedding to start, tucked away in a dressing room. One of the photographers was there, too, snapping shots of us getting ready. The photographers had already taken a million pictures of the wedding party, the family, and us. The June sky proved too perfect: cloudless, blue, and sunny. It couldn’t get much better. The vineyard setting worked out better than expected, too. The grounds were pristine, the colors all flowing together.

  “She looks amazing,” Ashley said in her yellow dress.

  “Of course she’s ready,” Danielle answered for me, fixing the cups of her red dress.

  “I can’t believe you’re about to get married,” Bridgett said, her misty eyes on the verge of letting it all go, which was rare for her. Her green dress didn’t fit as well as the others, but she looked just as elegant.

  I was trying to hold it all in before I walked down the aisle, but my bridesmaids were as emotional as I was, and this didn’t help the situation. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world,” I said, gazing at myself in the full-length mirror, touching my chest and the dangling marble that I had made into a good luck necklace, which gave me a boost of courage whenever I needed it. My fingers grazed the purple sash around my waist and the ornamental flower attached to it. Beading ran the length of the sweetheart bodice, with patches of detail in the gathering of the full skirt. The dress made me feel like a princess: something I hadn’t dreamed about since I was ten.

  “I think Danielle is a contender for that,” Ashley laughed, eyeing her wife.

  I got lost in the mirror, reflecting on the past ten months since Emma and Luke nearly killed Alma and me. Weeks after the horrifying scene, I had seen images of the kill room, the plastic lining the walls . . . the table, the knives. They were prepared to butcher us. Emma even had a boat docked in Astoria that the police were confident the two were going to use to dump us into the ocean, apparently just like Dexter Morgan. It made me sick to think about.

  Despite the trauma and its proximity to the Hood to Coast, I decided to still run it, and I felt accomplished afterward. All that training had paid off.

  Alma had recovered just fine, and a month later, the four of us—including her now-fiancé—took a trip to Hawaii for two weeks. It was as beautiful as ever.

  Bridgett and I started up Friends Bakery and Brunch House in December for a grand re-opening, a whole year after our first opening. Our class-action lawsuit against the Inspection Engineer ended in court, the jury finding him guilty as hell. I gave a sizable chunk of my money to charity.

  Vince and I grew closer and closer in the following months, moving in together shortly after the abduction—something Colby-Jack enjoyed quite a bit, with the space to roam and sleep in over five thousand square feet. It seemed like every day we learned something new about each other. I wondered how long that would go on or if it was something that would last a lifetime. We had crossed everything off our fantasy sex list, so we made a new one. The experiments were never-ending, the passion never expiring.

  “It’s time, girls,” Becky said, entering the room. Her voice snapped me back to the present. I smiled at her and she beamed back at me. She had graciously agreed to fill the spot as our wedding coordinator. The role was a hobby of hers, and she was damn good at it, telling people where to be and when. “I have your brother here to walk you down the aisle.” As soon as my bridesmaids filed out, Donny offered me his arm.

  “You look beautiful,” he whispered into my ear, as I linked my arm in his. “Mom and Dad would be so proud of you, Maci. To see what kind of woman you turned out to be. I am.” On the threshold of tears, I kissed him on the cheek, holding it all together by a fraying string, the emotion of the day intense.

  As we exited the building to the aisle outside, the Ben Harper ballad reached my ears, and I gazed upon an audience of friends and family, who all stood up when they saw me. Ahead of them, under a wooden arch in a sharp, light-gray tux, Vince stood, and I could see my future before my eyes. I could see our kids playing in the backyard, our family vacations, movie nights with pizza and popcorn, and all the nights of passionate sex.

  Our eyes locked, and the biggest smile spread across his face. My cheeks ached as I smiled back at him, as big as I ever had in my life. I cherished the moment, but at the same time, I also couldn’t wait to see a lifetime of those smiles.

  You didn’t really think the story would end like that, did you?

  THE WEDDING NIGHT

  I drove us to our destination in Vince’s wedding gift to me. A nineteen ninety-five purple Escort, retrofitted like his Mustang, now an electric vehicle that could go over a thousand miles on a single charge. I called him Eddie, Jr.

  Instead of staying in a fancy hotel in downtown Portland, which all looked similar to our condo, we decided on a B&B not far from the winery. The Catbird Seat sat near Fern Ridge Lake, tucked away on a hill, off the road, and surrounded by the quiet of the countryside. Vince had booked both available rooms for the night so that no one would disturb us. It was late, and the owners had left the door unlocked for us, but she got out of bed and greeted us anyway.

  Vince carried a large suitcase upstairs to the suite. As I lugged the travel bag and a smaller suitcase to our room, I realized I hadn’t seen the number twenty-three all day, and laughed at how perfect it all was. I aimed to keep up the perfection until sleep claimed us. In the room, Vince turned on the electric fireplace, making the flames bright and the heat low, since June at night was sometimes still cool in Oregon.

  We were going to work with a different sex book tonight—one I was excited to try—and I took out the gift from Danielle: The Cosmo Kama Sutra, filled with sex positions and instructions. Despite the fact that it was given as a joke, I thought to put it to good use, with pages already bookmarked. I pointed to the one I wanted to try.

  “The Pinwheel, eh? Sounds like fun,” Vince said, reading over the instructions. “To get us warmed up, anyway.”

  “Warmed up?”

  “I have a few surprises,” he said, unzipping the large suitcase. The sex pillow lay inside, along with other accessories, including two pairs of fuzzy purple handcuffs.

  “Two pairs?” I asked, holding up the cuffs.

  “You’ll just have to wait and see.” He put them down and took me in his arms, showering me with soft kisses, up and down my neck, across my chin, and between my breasts.

  “Hold on there,” I said, pushing him back. “I have my own surprises.” I picked up my bag and stepped into the master bathroom. It had taken me a while to find the perfect wedding-night outfit, but when I finally stumbled upon it, I knew it was the one before I even tried it on. The brocade corset laced up in the front and on both sides with satin ribbons. Luckily, I had already pre-looped the ribbons. Otherwise it would have taken half an hour to put it on with the garters. I adjusted all the straps and tied the ribbons into cute bows, attaching the garters to the cors
et last. The matching thong completed the outfit, but I didn’t expect to keep it on long.

  When I opened the bathroom door, Vince’s mouth watered as his jaw hung open, his crotch swelling. “Wow,” was all he said.

  I grabbed his ivory bowtie. “Let’s do something about these clothes.” Unzipping his pants, I stroked his cock over his boxers. It hardened, stretching the underwear. His cock sprung up as I freed it. I slowly unbuttoned his shirt while he ran his fingers all over my hips and breasts. He dove into my cleavage, inhaling as deeply as he could.

  “You smell so good.”

  “I taste even better,” I said, pointing his cock between my legs. “But you should already know that.” I stretched out on the bed and spread my legs, waiting for him to climb beside me. He kicked off his shoes and socks, then his pants and underwear. He tightened up his bowtie on his naked neck. Our tongues met, wet and hot, sliding around each other, making my heart race. Vince gently rubbed the lips between my legs, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of my thighs. After a minute, he flipped around so that our mouths faced each others’ crotches, slipping off my thong.

  He handed me a bottle of flavored lube from the bag, then began kissing up and down my thighs. His nose brushed my clit as he made his way from my left to my right leg. I moaned at the fleeting touch. The anticipation had been building since last night, and I wanted to come badly. Well, really, the anticipation had begun building two weeks ago when we agreed on no sex for the period until our wedding night.

  With that in mind, I poured the lube all over his balls, up his shaft and around his head. Sixty-nine’s ignited a delicious lust inside me, and the more times we did it, the more I wanted to do it. It was the best foreplay, and even better when Vince added a vibrator to the mix. Tonight he added two fingers into my tightness instead. I was extra tight from the two weeks of abstinence.

  Our noises filled the room. Before long, with Vince’s cock halfway down my throat, he stopped his motions, yelling into my thigh. I braced with the audio queue. He exploded into my mouth seconds later while I quickened my pumping hand until he fell into quiet gasps. He was squeezing my ass with one hand, and the sheets with the other, trembling.

  He kissed me hard after I swallowed all of his semen. “Magical,” he said, lying beside me. “Just magical.”

  “We’re just getting warmed up, remember?” I said, cuddling into his chest. I could fall asleep to his heartbeat if I weren’t so hungry for sex. We took a break for ten minutes before Vince continued what he had started with his tongue.

  As the pressure built under my skull, Vince’s cock slowly came to life, and after minutes of his sweet tongue assault, he was throbbing once again. Hard and wanting, Vince lay on his back, propped up by his elbows, as I read him the instructions for the pinwheel. I did the same, my feet facing his head; I then slid onto his cock, wrapping my legs around his torso. He positioned his left leg behind my back and his right leg across my stomach, a feat in flexibility. He thrust slowly with shallow penetration, one hand on my hip, the other resting across my thigh, with his thumb massaging my clit.

  It was slow, sensual, and purely delectable. “Okay,” he said, pushing me off him after a few minutes. “I can’t wait any longer.” He rolled off the bed, peeking into a closet, and lit up when he found what he wanted. He dragged out a body mirror with a floor stand and positioned it in front of the bed. Then he dug around in the suitcase and retrieved a purple leather cock ring with a bullet vibrator attached to it.

  “Surprise, surprise,” he intoned, unsnapping the adjustable snaps.

  “Sexy,” I said. “What else is in this bag of yours?”

  “You’ll find out by the end of the night or tomorrow morning—however long you last.” He wrapped the base of his cock in the leather, forcing the blood to his tip, engorging it to the point that it probably wouldn’t have fit in my mouth. He made the vibrator face down, against his balls. “Lie down.” He pointed to the middle of the California king. My arms and head hung over the side of the bed. “Lift.” I lifted my hips so that the wedge angled my ass up. He grabbed one of the fuzzy purple handcuffs and locked it around one of my wrists.

  “Don’t worry. I have the key.” He smiled, producing the key from the suitcase, and rested it atop the electric fireplace. Taking my hand, he cuffed the other end to the bedframe. He copied the action with my left hand. I couldn’t move, bound to the bed with my ass in the air.

  He walked on his knees behind me. With the mirror in front of me, I could see his sexy abs as he played with my pussy, using his massive head. My heart beat faster as I waited and he teased. Finally, he eased into my wet, tight pussy, and I moaned as he filled me up. The deep penetration felt like he was close to my breasts, pushing everything out of the way, to reach my heart.

  He turned on the vibrator. As he thrust, it smacked my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure to the back of my neck. He thrust harder and harder, his breaths erratic, and with each pound, I lost more control, falling into the wild rhythm of his hips.

  And then I was lost in a world of surging red, but I fought closing my eyes, and looked up into the mirror. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I stared into Vince’s eyes as I climaxed for the first time as Mrs. Forte.

  The End

  Note from the author: Reviews to an author’s career are as important as orgasms to a person’s sex life—we need them! If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review on Amazon!

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  Acknowledgements

  Where would I be without all those tragically funny stories about bad dates? Not writing very realistic fiction, that’s where. Thanks to all my friends sharing their experiences with moronic guys and allowing me to write about them. A big thanks to editor Rachel Guerin who made this story what it is. Thanks to all the Portlanders who make the City of Roses so special. Thanks to my family for all their support in my life. The BIGGEST and last thanks goes to my husband. This book would not be possible without you!

  About the Author

  Lorelai was born in 1989. She is a bookworm who loves writing erotic contemporary works that push boundaries and have a touch of mystery/suspense. She also enjoys writing paranormal and dystopian when the mood strikes her. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband, their chubby cat, and two birds. In her spare time she likes to bike, hike, and drink craft brews, like many Portlanders do, and watch movies in the dark.