by Ash, Nikki
I stand and down my drink, the alcohol burning my throat as it rushes down. “You knew!” I shove his chest in anger and embarrassment, ready to find my way back to the hotel alone.
But before I can pull my hand back, Mason grabs it and pulls me into him. “Come here.” He downs his drink just as quickly as I did and snatches his card off the counter where the bartender left it. He quickly writes a tip and signs his name before he pulls me away from the bar toward a quieter area of the club.
His hands run down my sides landing on my hips as he turns me around to face him, pushing me against the wall of a hallway that looks like it leads to an emergency exit. Then he leans down, and his lips brush against my ear. “You looked so damn gorgeous at the wedding, Mila.” His words send shivers up my spine. “And now, fuck, you’re the sexiest woman in this club.”
“Don’t try to distract me with your damn charm! It’s you.”
“It’s me.” He nods and smiles softly.
“Why would you do that?” Hot traitor tears form, but I refuse to let them fall.
“At first, I was curious. I wanted to know what made you tick. What you were looking for in a man.”
“You should’ve told me. I feel so stupid.”
“Why? Because you didn’t know it was me? Does it change anything you’ve said to me? Does it change our conversations? I’ve never lied to you, Mila. Have you lied to me?”
“No, but why didn’t you tell me?”
“I started falling for you, and it scared the shit out of me.”
He was falling for me? “Bullshit! Just a couple nights ago you left me to get laid.” I don’t know this for sure, but when he flinches, my assumptions are confirmed.
Mason quickly composes himself. “No, I didn’t.”
“Then where did you go?” I challenge.
“Yes, I left to get laid,” he admits, “but I couldn’t do it. I got there, and all I could think of was you in those cotton fucking pajamas you always wear and those reading socks, and I couldn’t do it.”
He couldn’t do it?
“What did your message say?” He encircles his arms around my waist as my hands come around his neck, my fingers running through his sweaty hair.
“I messaged you to ask you out,” I admit. “I’m done waiting for Mr. Right. I love talking to GetHooked and I didn’t want to keep just talking when I could meet him and see where it leads.” And it all clicks. How could I not have realized it was Mason? The guy is known for referring to women as fish! I chalked it up to a guy making a witty play on the name of the site.
“And I enjoy talking to you.” His fingers hold my chin in place as he looks into my eyes, refusing to let me hide. “I look forward to those conversations more than you know.”
A myriad of emotions, I’m not sure what to do with or what to make of, hit me all at once. What does this mean for us? He never did say he would go out with me. He never asked me out. Does that mean he enjoys talking to me but doesn’t want more? I have so many thoughts and questions, but instead of allowing myself to overthink any of this, I do what my gut tells me to do.
I pull Mason’s face down to meet mine. My lips collide with his, and our tongues delve into each other’s mouths. Mason’s hands find my butt, and he picks me up—my legs wrapping around his waist as he pushes me back against the wall for support. We kiss passionately and my body grows warm with desire. My heart feeling completely full. And when his mouth leaves mine, I let out a groan of displeasure, not wanting our connection to end yet.
But quickly, his lips are back on my body. Starting at my collarbone, he places soft open-mouthed kisses up my neck until he gets to my earlobe. “Fuck, Mila, we shouldn’t be doing this. Tell me to stop.”
Like hell I’m going to stop this! Neither of us are that drunk. “I want you,” I moan out. “Take me back to the Bellagio and make love to me, please.”
His body stiffens, his kisses coming to a halt, and I immediately know my mistake. I used the word love. He tries to put me down, but I tighten my legs around him, my ankles locking in place. “You know what I mean. I don’t want to wait anymore. Take me back to the hotel and have sex with me, please.”
“You’re drunk.”
“You know I’m not.”
He stares into my eyes, looking for what, I’m not sure, but when he finally speaks, he says, “No.”
“No?”
“I’m not renting you or milking you or doing whatever the hell it was that you said you don’t want guys to do. I told you, you deserve more.” Taking my hand in his, he pulls me out of the club using a side exit, so we’re able to leave undetected by the paparazzi.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Back to the hotel. We’ve both had enough to drink and if we stay and drink any more, I might give in, and we both know that’s not what you really want. Don’t forget I’ve been the person on the other side of those messages. I know what you really want, Mila, and it’s not a guy like me.” We’re walking fast, and my feet are groaning in pain from wearing heels all evening. Mason notices me slowing down and stops.
“Get on.” He bends down slightly, and I jump up onto his back, my hands linking around his throat. “Don’t choke me to death!” he yells through his laughter, and I giggle.
“Gitty up!” I squeeze his sides with my thighs, and Mason shakes his head, chuckling. As he carries me down the sidewalk, I start to recognize our surroundings. Mason is quiet, and I’m trying to think of a way to change his mind. He’s only saying no because he thinks I still want to wait until marriage, and while that would be ideal, I’m done waiting. Especially now that I know Mason is GetHooked.
We’re only a couple blocks away from our hotel when I spot The Chapel of Love. “Look!” I point to the church and giggle. “It’s a church! We can get married and then you can own the cow! And then I can finally have sex!” Okay… maybe I’m a little drunk.
Mason stops and glances toward the Chapel, dropping me to my feet and turning around to face me. “I would make the worst husband ever.”
I let go of his hand and bring my hands up to his neck. “You would make an incredible husband. Like you said, don’t forget I’ve been the person on the other side of those messages. I now know both sides of Mason Street.” I pull his head down and kiss him. “Marry me. Marry me and then fuck me. I know this sounds crazy, but we could be amazing together.” I kiss him again and he groans into my mouth.
“Please,” I plead. “Marry me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mason
We’re not drunk…tipsy, maybe. But drunk? Nah. That’s what I tell myself as my wife pulls me into her hotel suite. We had a few drinks, a couple of shots. We’re not drunk, though. That’s what I try to convince myself of as Mila undresses in the center of the room.
I watch as she reaches her hands back and undoes the knot of her top. Because she’s not wearing a bra, her heavy tits fall slightly as they’re freed. Her pert nipples are hard and begging to be licked and sucked. I don’t suck or lick them, though.
I just watch as she pushes her sexy as fuck outfit past her hips. It falls the rest of the way on its own, pooling at her feet and leaving her in nothing but a black thong. She steps out of the material and I notice she’s still in her fuck-me heels. I want nothing more than to lay her on the bed and explore every inch of her body. I don’t touch her, though.
I continue to watch as her fingers hook in the sides of her thong and she pushes it down then steps out of it. Her almost bare cunt is on display, begging to be fingered and fucked. I don’t do either, though.
Instead, I stay right where I am, watching as she steps out of her heels, and as she bends down to move them to the side, her tits fall like perfect rain drops. My tongue darts out to wet my lips as I imagine taking each of her nipples into my mouth and sucking on them.
When she finally approaches me, she takes my left hand in hers—the matching silver bands glinting in the light—and walks us over to the edge of the bed.
She unbuttons my shirt and removes it from my body. Then she undoes my belt and pants, pushing them down and leaving me as naked as she is.
“Your body is perfect. It’s almost too perfect,” she murmurs, giving me a shy smile before her eyes scan down her own body.
“Don’t do that. Your body is beautiful.” I expect her to argue, to mention her stretchmarks or to cover herself up, but she doesn’t and that turns me the hell on.
“Thank you.” She stands on her tiptoes and I think she’s going to kiss me, but instead she whispers into my ear, “I know what I’m doing. I’m not completely drunk and I promise I will remember everything tomorrow. Fuck me, please, and don’t hold back.”
Her words melt away the last bit of resolve I have, and lifting her up, I toss her onto the bed, her hair falling against the pillow in waves. She smiles brightly as I hover above her, and my only thought is that she is without a doubt the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, and she’s all mine. “Are you sure, Mila?” I ask.
“Yes. Please, Mason.”
My body is so close to hers, my cock pushing against her entrance, and that reminds me I don’t have any condoms in here. “I need to go next door to my room to grab a condom.”
She pouts but agrees. “Okay, hurry up.”
“Where’s your card so I can get back in?”
“On the table.”
Still hovering above her, I dip my head down and give her a hard kiss on her soft lips. “I’ll be right back.”
Throwing on my pants, I run next door barefoot and unlock the door with my swipe key. I grab a couple of condoms then run back to Mila’s room. I can’t be gone more than two minutes tops. When I open her door, she’s still lying in the same place I left her. Only she’s snoring.
Chuckling to myself, I throw the condoms on the nightstand and pull her blankets up all the way to cover her naked body. Not drunk, my ass. Then I get into bed next to her and watch her sleep soundly, her eyelids fluttering softly like she’s already dreaming. I wonder if tomorrow she’ll remember any of this. Will she regret marrying me? I don’t even know what I was thinking when I agreed to marry her. Actually, I do. I was thinking about how she found out I was GetHooked. She told me she wanted to meet him, and I thought if I married her maybe I could keep her. I could have her in every way possible instead of being hidden behind a phone and a dating app.
She was standing there in front of the church, begging me to marry her. If given the opportunity, who wouldn’t marry this woman? But what I did was wrong. We both have been drinking. Both of us drunk to a certain extent. I should’ve said no. I should’ve taken care of her while she was drunk, not gone along with her crazy idea. It’s not like it will ever work out. I’m not the marrying type. My longest relationship has been over a dating app. I think a part of me wanted what Tristan has, even if it was only for a few hours. To be somebody’s husband without enough time to fuck it all up. All she wanted from me was for me to make love to her. I laugh softly at that. I didn’t even get that shit right. She passed out without even getting laid like she wanted.
Her chest slowly rises and falls and I wonder, what if maybe this marriage could work? We already live together. What if I could give her everything she wants? What if I could take care of her and Alec? I’m not my parents. I make a good living, and I have money put away in the bank. I could spend my days training and my nights making love to Mila just like she wants. The chemistry is there. I feel it every time we’re around each other. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. When she smiles, my stomach knots. When she frowns, I want to make it right. I want to make her happy. I couldn’t make my mom happy. I was a burden to her. I was too young to take care of her. But now I’m in a place where I can take care of Mila and Alec.
Who the fuck am I kidding? Tomorrow, in the light of day, when Mila wakes up and freaks out over marrying me while drunk—even though she’ll swear she wasn’t—she’ll insist we file for an annulment and we’ll both move forward. Because we both know I’m not the one she’s looking for.
Chapter Seventeen
Mila
Ugh! My head is pounding, and my throat is dry. I try to part my lips, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Yuck! I bet my breath is nasty. It tastes nasty. I open one eye slightly, trying to remember last night.
The wedding.
The dinner.
The cake.
Clubbing with Mason’s friends.
Drinking.
Drinking some more.
Finding out Mason is GetHooked.
Begging Mason to have sex with me.
Ughhhh! I begged Mason to have sex with me! Real classy, Mila.
Begging Mason to marry me.
Marrying Mason.
Whoa! Back up! Did I just say I remember marrying Mason? I open both eyes and peek down to my left hand, and sure enough there’s a thin silver wedding band on my left ring finger.
What else happened? I remember coming back to the room, stripping down for him, and then stripping him down. Damn, that body! Then he told me he needed to grab condoms, and since I’m not on birth control, I agreed.
What happened next? Fuck! Think Mila! Did I finally have sex and not remember it? I squeeze my thighs together to see if I’m sore. Surely after not having sex in five years, I would be a little sore after being with Mason. I don’t feel sore, though. Maybe it sucked? I mean, just because his dick is thick and long and looks like it could please a woman doesn’t mean he knows what to do with it…
“Good morning.” Mason’s deep voice has me jumping slightly. When I glance over at him, he’s lying next to me, his muscular arm propped up with his hand holding his head up. The blanket is only covering him up to his waist, leaving his tight pecs and deliciously ripped abs on display.
“Good morning,” I croak out. “I need to get some water.” When I pull the blankets off me, I immediately pull them back up because I’m naked. Like completely naked.
“I didn’t want to dress you and risk waking you up. You looked too peaceful sleeping.”
I whip my head to the side to look at him. “I passed out after we had sex?”
Mason chuckles a bit too loudly and my head pulsates. “You remember having sex with me?”
I consider lying but instead go with the truth. “Well, no…” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t think I drank that much. I remember everything else. From the wedding, to the wedding. I mean…you know. I remember from Tristan and Charlie’s wedding, all the way to our wedding. I even remember us about to have sex and you going to your room to grab a condom. But I don’t remember the actual act.” I sit up against the headboard, pulling the blanket up with me as I go, suddenly pissed off. “Which really sucks. I mean the entire reason why we got married was so I could finally have sex, and I don’t even remember it.”
Mason swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, his hands resting on his hips, not even caring that he’s completely naked. It takes every ounce of restraint to keep my eyes on his face and not veer down to his…shit! I did it anyway. And his dick is just how I remembered it: thick and long and veiny. I dart my eyes back up to his face.
“Well, you can rest assured,” he says, unaware I was just ogling his goods. “You didn’t not remember having sex with me, because we didn’t have sex. You passed out. And trust me, sweetheart, if we had had sex, you would’ve remembered it for the rest of your damn life.” Oh, thank God! It’s good to know I wasn’t so drunk I couldn’t remember the sex.
“Sorry that you wasted your marriage on me, but I didn’t think fucking you while you were passed out and snoring was the best idea. But hey, we’re both awake now.” He shrugs. “We don’t have to check out for a few hours. I can fuck you every which way so our marriage won’t be a complete waste.”
I flinch at his words and stand, taking the blanket with me to cover my body. “Wow! So what you’re saying is you only married me to have sex with me?”
Mason’s jaw drops then he picks it back
up and shakes his head. “Are you still drunk?” he asks slowly, and I shoot him a murderous glare. “In case you still are, let me remind you, you said you married me to get in my pants.”
“Yes! But I didn’t call our marriage a waste!” I yell, my head feeling like it’s about to explode. “Just because you didn’t get your dick wet doesn’t mean the marriage was a waste.” I remember our vows and how real they felt—at least for me.
Mason throws his arms up in the air. “You’re fucking crazy!” He points at me. “You asked me to marry you and I said okay. You asked me to fuck you and I said okay. You passed out, and now you’re going to accuse me of marrying you to get laid?” He scrubs his hands up and down his face and lets out a loud growl.
I’m so confused with this conversation. Maybe I am still drunk. I definitely need some water and a pain reliever. I thought he meant the vows he said, but then he called our marriage a waste. Maybe I got it all wrong. “Is that why you married me? So I would finally be underneath you like you said I would be all those years ago?”
Mason stares at me for a long second. “Yeah, that’s why I married you,” he says dryly. “So, are we having sex before we go file for the annulment or not?”
“Not!” I yell. Forgetting I’m naked, I let go of the blanket and run to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. The tears begin to fall as I sit on the toilet, remembering our vows.
“Would you guys like the standard vows or would you like to say your own?”
“I would like to say my own,” Mason said. He turned to face me, and taking my hands in his, smiled warmly at me. “I know you’ve been married before and it didn’t work out. You told me you didn’t want to settle and that you want to have an amazing sex life.” We both laughed softly. “I promise you that every day you’re married to me I’ll make sure you never feel like you’re settling. The sex will be out of this world.” I giggled at his words. “But not just the sex. I’ll make sure you and Alec are taken care of. I will do everything in my power to make you happy, to make you smile. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but you seem to know what you want, so I was thinking I can vow to follow your lead. You tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen. I promise.”