One Night Bride

by Sarah J. Brooks

  I was filled and bereft, filled and bereft until his body bore down on me with his might, and his sex hammered into mine. He was powered only by passion, by his need to get closer and find his own release. His face was earnest and enthralled. It was the face I loved, the man I adored, and the life I only dared to dream about having. I clawed his back wanting him to go faster, dig deeper, hit my tender spots harder.

  He moaned and made sharp grunts as he simmered closer to his climax, grinding hard into me. His mouth found my breasts and kissed them, pulling at the nipples with tender tugs as he tortured each one, never slowing his maddening speed. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I clenched my legs around him and arched my back, sending my nipple deeper into his mouth as I screamed out, my release flooding us. That was all he needed as he too mewled and yelped, his come shooting deep within me, mixing his seed with my own pleasure swirling within my body.

  I could barely breathe, overwhelmed with passion and sensations. His body slumped down on top of mine, all of his weight. He was breathless as he gasped for air. Our bodies were hot and dripping with sweat under the midday sun. It warmed wet skin as his semen dribbled out of me and into my ass crack, making my bare body cool with the ocean breeze. I loved being claimed by him. One day we’d have children, and in my belly, our family would grow.

  “I love you, Arcadia Dean,” he said as he kissed my cheek and rolled to the side, giving me more space to breathe before he fell asleep.

  Sleep came easily laying in the sun beside him. We napped there together on a hot breezy afternoon. We stayed on the beach spent and naked until a chill iced the air. I snuggled into him, but he too was so cold; there was no blanket or anything to ward off the ice forming on my skin. I reluctantly opened my eyes to find myself being blasted with cold air from a personal air conditioner vent overhead.

  I woke up cold and disoriented on the Greyhound bus. The sun was dipping behind the horizon, but the window was still searing with heat created by the fading sunlight. I looked to the woman beside me, her eyes were kind, if not a little concerned. I wondered if I’d made noise during my sex dream. I really and truly hoped I hadn’t. She offered me a chip coated in something unearthly red. I took it if only to be polite, perhaps having offended her with sounds of ecstasy. I tasted the bright, flaming flavor, and it brought me back to reality. Spicy, hot, salty, it was real. Xavier Dean and our house on the ocean was not. She gave me a sweet, almost knowing smile and returned to her movie. I returned with a thank you and laid my head on the hot window, watching the sun disappear.

  I felt a little embarrassed and disoriented, but more than anything, I was sad. An overbearing despair was blanketing me, enveloping my entire being. With the setting sun came an invading darkness. I realized I not only lost a man I didn’t know, but I also lost my only family. My dad wasn’t a great guy; he wasn’t even a good guy, but he was my dad. And he was willing to sell his daughter to a monster to sate his greed. He didn’t need more businesses, he was already a millionaire, what did he need with more money?

  He was willing to put his one and only daughter at the mercy of a mobster, to be his sexual plaything, his partner, his slave… who knew what he wanted me for. All this sacrifice was just to make more money. No thought to my life, my career, or my well-being. Even one night with his “friend” and I would have been ruined. I couldn’t think about it anymore.

  I glanced at the movies on offer but none of them held my interest, so I watched the passing landscape of nondescript towns somewhere in the middle of nowhere as we endlessly rolled on. I cuddled deeper into Xavier’s shirt and breathed in his smell. It seemed I had nothing else in the world but that, just the faint scent of him.

  Chapter 11

  Xavier

  “I don’t know why you just don’t let this go. You’ve already called your publicist, changed your bank account, and put in an alert to social security. There’s nothing more to do. She’s gone. Perhaps she was just a weirdo fan. I’ve never seen you care this much about anyone. Well, since …”

  I gave Damon the eye. “Don’t say it.” I glared at him, feeling anxious and unresolved.

  “I don’t see why you won’t just drop it. You had a one-night stand, you’ve had hundreds.”

  Again, I glared at him.

  “A few.” He rolled his eyes as he corrected himself. “This one, though, Xavier, this was one of the stupidest. Having that tattoo removed is gonna hurt.” He almost snickered. “I guess you do have to find her though if you want to get your marriage annulled. I didn’t think about that.” His face grew concerned.

  “If I could only remember her last name …” Then it hit me, finally. I was such an idiot. “I need to go back to the place where we were married. They’ll have a duplicate certificate that has her name, phone number, everything.” A wave of relief washed over me.

  Damon gave me an unexcited look. “I’m assuming you’re going to want me to spend the rest of my bachelor party helping you find your phantom ‘wife?’”

  I hadn’t thought about how much I was ruining his day. “Well, what else have you got planned?” I backed down a little, trying to sound interested.

  “We are all supposed to be going to The Steak House for a last hurrah. Everyone has to work tomorrow, including you. In fact, it’s your jet taking us back to San Francisco,” he reminded me.

  Crap. One more thing to do.

  “I’m not going back until I find her. I’ll call my assistant. I just have a few meetings this week and a design deadline. I can work remotely or push the line back.” I knew I was jabbering, but I felt energized I might find her.

  “Are you fucking serious? Push the line back for a GIRL YOU MARRIED ON A WHIM?” he shouted. I hated when he shouted.

  “She was nervous yesterday; her phone kept going off, and she mentioned her dad. She seemed concerned.” Every time her phone chimed, she looked more and more stressed. She was a grown woman. She told him where she’d be; he needn’t be so controlling of her. It shouldn’t have worried me so much, but something in my gut told me she was running away, or perhaps her father found her. Both possibilities seemed dangerous for her.

  “Yeah, she was probably worried that he’d find out she was fucking some guy and, oh I don’t know … married him? What was she? Eighteen?” He was really getting under my skin.

  “She was twenty-nine, you asshole. I don’t date children. Maybe you should just go on to dinner; I don’t want you to miss it. I promise to make it all up to you with a lavish wedding present your wife will love for ages, guaranteed.” I needed him gone. He was annoying at best, and we were usually such good friends, but this was something deeper than my good buddy could deal with. This was my sanity.

  “This is fun; it’s like a mystery. I’ll hang out for a few hours, dinner isn’t until seven. I’ll even call your assistant for you and say there was an emergency, make it all dramatic and dire, buy you a few days,” he said.

  “Seriously?” I truly appreciated his offer of help; maybe he wasn’t so annoying after all.

  “I’ve never seen you care, Xavier. This girl must be something,” he said with a smile.

  “To be honest, I don’t even know. I’m just acting on a hunch. We had so much fun last night, and she’s sweet, Damon. She doesn’t even know how beautiful she is. She loves whales and teaches surf lessons. She’s just unique, and she grabbed my heart. She may end up being a con artist or a bitch. She may just stomp on my heart and shatter it, but it was only one night, I’ll recover. Perhaps more likely she’s a controlled daddy’s girl, but I want to chase the fantasy until it crashes down around me. I’m usually so practical; I want to be a little reckless.” Ah … I’d confessed my sin, there it was.

  Arcadia brought out the bad boy in me, the worry-free human who did crazy irrational things. I liked it, and it terrified me. I couldn’t be this without her. If anything, I wanted the chance to say goodbye. I was planning on giving her the rest of her master’s tuition as a thank you. Most likely she would
n’t accept it, but I wanted to do it for her, make her life a little easier. If she turned out to be a crook, I wouldn’t, but if she was sweet Arcadia still … I held out a glimmer of hope for her, laced with worry and dread that she might have gotten into something very dangerous and scary.

  “Well, you point the way, Romeo,” Damon said as he stood up. “We’re losing the light.”

  “Okay, it’s a little drive-up chapel on,” I looked at the receipt in my hand, “Vegas Lane.” I was in control again.

  We’d find her, and I’d get to the bottom of this.

  “That’s classic, Xavier … a drive-up chapel. Perfect,” Damon sneered.

  “Shut up,” I said as I closed the door, and we were off.

  I had a car drive us there because I really didn’t know where it was, but the driver seemed to be able to find it without any issue. Last night, Arcadia and I walked, drunk out of our minds. I barely remembered most of it, just glints and flashes of her. Her smile, her ass, her wit and vivaciousness, the pain of the tattoo, that horrid tattoo guy. What I had a better memory of was our beautiful lovemaking. She’d asked not to fuck, even made me marry her just so I wouldn’t fuck her and leave her.

  Making love was so much better; she was worth it. A good fuck would be fun with the vixen one day if I ever found her again. When I walked up to the chapel, a man greeted us at the window. I wasn’t surprised to see someone different; we’d gotten married around midnight last night.

  “Hello,” I greeted him with Damon by my side. “I was here last night, or rather very early this morning.”

  “Right, you’re that famous designer guy.” Oh great, this wasn’t going well at all, the whole world would soon know what I’d done.

  Damon rolled his eyes and gave me a grave look, which I shrugged off.

  “Well, it’s a little embarrassing. I get that all the time, but I’m not the real Xavier Dean. I mean, I’m real, but I’m not the famous designer guy. I’m in real estate, but I’ve heard we sure do look a lot alike.” I flashed him a goofy smile, trying to make my lie stick.

  “Uncanny,” he said, not believing a word. “So how can I help you?”

  “Another bit of embarrassment I’m afraid, but my fiancé and I were so drunk when we got married last night I think we misplaced our marriage license.” I gave him a sheepish and deeply shameful grin.

  “We can get you a duplicate. It’ll just take a minute to print one off. You want to come in and have a seat?” He was nice and accommodating, but I really didn’t want to go into the place, getting married outside of it was enough.

  “Oh, we’ll wait out here.” I smiled again.

  “Okay then.” He didn’t buy a single word of anything I said; I was sure of it.

  “You are so fucked,” Damon whispered as soon as the guy left.

  “Ughh,” is all I could give him.

  “I hope she’s worth all of this,” Damon scolded, doubtful.

  “Yeah, me too,” I added, not really sure of anything.

  The man returned. “Okay, I got a copy for you. It’ll be twenty-five dollars.” His voice was cheery and bright, weirdly so. “So, where is the little missus?” Prying asshole.

  “Um, sleeping it off.” I gave him another sheepish smile.

  “Wild wedding night huh?”

  Nope, not going to go there. “Aren’t they all?” I took the certificate and flashed him a big smile. “It’d be cool if I was that designer guy, what a story that would be. I’ll tell the wife you thought I was really him; she’ll get a kick out of it.” I gave him a goofy wave and headed off with Damon.

  “You know you’re wearing your own brand and getting into a black town car with a driver. You are so royally fucked beyond all fucking.” Damon laughed.

  “Shut up and get in the car.” He was right. Oh well, all PR is good PR. “At least this proves I’m not gay.” I laughed.

  “Oh, my it does not. A flash wedding at midnight in Vegas to a mystery girl … you are so gonna be gay for this. The press will eat you alive.” He seemed to be having a lot of fun with my, rather Arcadia and I’s predicament.

  “As soon as I find her, I’ll make her help me clean this mess up,” I confirmed more for myself than him.

  “Right, yep … I’m sure that’s gonna go down just the way you planned it. I’m sure,” he gloated.

  “Fine, did you call the office?” I had to change the subject.

  “Yep, Aunt Morgan died, and you’re in Minnesota … getting married.” He paused, and I gave him an evil look. “Just kidding. You’re prostrate with grief. And staying a while longer to help your poor lost family recover. You’ll be back in the office on Friday. Figured I’d give you a couple of days to find your blushing bride. After this, though, you’re on your own; I’m not missing the best steak in Vegas for your phantom bride who proves once and for all you’re gay, ’cause she’s your big, fat, long, scraggly beard.” Ah, he was having too much fun with this.

  “You like this don’t you?” I teased, calling him out on his torture.

  “Oh yes, very much.” He smiled again.

  I glanced down at the marriage certificate. “Arcadia Jones, that was it. Here’s the phone number right here.” I felt the cool breeze of relief flood over me.

  I called the number and nothing; it didn’t even go to voicemail. “She must have her phone switched off.”

  Damon looked down at the paperwork. “There’s parent’s information listed here. Maybe you should call her dad since she’s such a daddy’s girl and all.”

  Sometimes I hated Damon, but at that moment I loved him. “Perfect, I’ll call him when I get back to the hotel. Sorry I couldn’t be there for you on your bachelor party. I’ll make it up to you at the wedding.” I only hoped I could. “Thanks for all of your help today.” I meant it.

  “Hope you find your girl, seriously all joking aside. I kind of hope she’s a con artist; otherwise, I’d be really frightened for her. I hope she’s okay.” He was being sincere, it made me glad he was my best friend.

  “I hope I find her too if only to figure out what the hell happened.” I was definitely doubting myself and was certainly doubting her, but I had to solve the mystery.

  In a few minutes, I’d know what had happened.

  When we got to the hotel, Damon went back to his room to freshen up before dinner, telling me to call him as soon as I’d found her. I stepped into a corner of the lobby, which was busy but not crazy. Everything was still and opulent. The Bellagio was a place where the debaucherous came to feel elegant and refined. For some reason, I wanted to be in public for this call. I had a bad feeling, and I wanted to be on ground level, ready to go into action if I had to.

  I dialed her father’s cell phone number.

  “Hello,” was the gruff and curt answer.

  “Mr. Jones?” I asked, feeling a tiny bit awkward as if I were some high school suitor wanting to court his daughter.

  “Yes,” his voice was sharp and angry.

  “My name is Xavier Dean. I met your daughter last night. We got separated, and I didn’t have her number. I thought you might know where she is …” Shit, shit, shit! I called without thinking of an excuse as to why I had his number.

  I couldn’t just say ‘Hi Mr. Jones’ I accidentally married your daughter last night, got her name tattooed on my arm, made love to her until she dribbled cum all over the sheets and then, poof she’s gone and I want her back.’ This call was taking awkward to a new level, but I was an alpha male, a famous fashion designer and better at this than I was willing to give myself credit.

  “You were with her? How did you get this number?” His voice escalated to rage.

  A really uncalled for level of anger in my opinion. We were talking about his twenty-nine-year-old daughter, his adult daughter.

  “Yes, sir, as I’ve already said, we were separated. I guess you haven’t seen her either.” I was strong, dismissive. “Oh, and her cell phone ran out of battery, she gave me this number if we got separated.
Not sure why she gave me her dad’s number, but since you haven’t seen her either, I guess you don’t know where she is.”

  “I need to know exactly where she was last night. Was she with you all night? Who else was she with? Who are you? Are you at the Bellagio? We tracked her to the Bellagio but lost her in the hotel this morning. What’s your room number? I need her back here now! It’s absolutely imperative she gets back here this minute!” The son of a bitch was really irate.

  “I just said I was separated from her; I’m not going into details.” By this point, I wanted to find him and rip him to shreds.

  The asshole was tracking her and had gotten as far as my hotel to find her. I was suddenly thrilled she was gone. Bravo, little vixen. It looks like you may have escaped.

  “Did you touch her?” he seethed. “Did you fuck her? I’ll have your fucking balls in a jar if you did.”

  “That’s an inappropriate question, sir, and frankly none of your business.” I was tempted to just hang up the phone. “Clearly you don’t know where she is. Thank you for your time.”

  “I need to know where she was!” he bellowed. “She’s totally fucking this up.” What an insane maniac.

  “Goodbye.” I hung up and tried to still the tremors rocking through my body.

  Within seconds, his number popped up on my screen. I put it on the “blocked” list and tried to settle my breathing.

  I was almost positive Arcadia was on the run from her father. Something horrible must have happened. I didn’t want to think too much about taboos or family violence, but both images floated around my brain, unwanted. I had to find her. I felt very compelled to get to the bottom of this issue and see if she was safe. I didn’t care if she turned out to be some horrible woman who was working some kind of racket with her father. To me she was sweet and genuine; I wanted to make sure the Arcadia I made love to last night was okay.