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  “That’s good,” she yawned as I set her down and turned on the shower. “I don’t think I can handle any more of big little Mr. Dean at the moment,” she said as her hand inadvertently caressed her swollen pussy as if to soothe it.

  It looked painful, and my heart melted. I did that to her.

  “Perhaps we should get big little Mr. Dean a muzzle and a leash. You were supposed to tell me to stop,” I almost scolded.

  “I liked it.” She smiled, her dear face earnest and innocent.

  When the water was warm enough, I took her hand and stepped us into the cascades of clean, hot water. I washed her body, every curve, memorizing her perfect ass, the freckle on the top of her right buttocks, the mole near her left shoulder blade, her rosy nipples, her golden and chestnut colored hair, her sweet sloping thighs with a perfect gap.

  I wanted to bathe her in love as she fought sleep to keep standing, lulling with my detailed attention to each inch of her body. When I turned her around to rinse off the soap, she yawned again.

  “Let me wash you now,” she commanded behind half closed eyes.

  “Another time.” I kissed her forehead and let it rest on my shoulder, slid the soap quickly over my body, and rinsed and shut off the water.

  I picked her up again and grabbed a towel, wrapping it over the two of us. The room was hot enough, we’d drip dry under the covers. I got most of the droplets off before I tucked her into bed. It wasn’t seconds before she faded.

  “Good night, Xavier,” she half mumbled. “Thanks for marrying me for a day; it was fun. I promise never to tell anyone …” and with that, she drifted off to sleep.

  Her face was perfect and lovely. I wanted to wake her and tell her I didn’t care if she told people; I wasn’t going to throw her out tomorrow. I mean, we were just starting this, whatever it was. Honestly, I’d never felt so much overpowering emotion since Lauren. Arcadia was different than Lauren but seemed equally as amazing. Without really knowing her, I could tell there was something in her worthy of my interest. I wanted to take the time to get to know her better. I didn’t want to cast her off. I felt sad; she drifted off to sleep thinking that I did. She’d been respectful of my status and never took advantage of who I was. She was funny, delightful … and so crazy. Who tells someone they have to marry you to have sex and goes through with it? Arcadia Dean does … and I was starting to love her.

  I looked at the tattoo on my bicep and instead of cringing, I felt a spike of pride. If I couldn’t keep her one day, at least I could keep this very permanent memento of our night together. I was sure I’d regret it more in the morning, but as I laid down next to her, spooning her slim delicious body close to mine, it all felt right.

  Chapter 8

  Arcadia

  My bladder was dragging me kicking and screaming out of one of the best dreams I could ever recall having. I was making love to Xavier. We were out in the middle of an open field laying on a picnic blanket as he made love to me under the warm sun of a bright golden day. I was fully comfortable with his size and could accommodate him easily, unlike the way my poor pussy struggled with him throughout the night. I was still feeling quite raw when I awoke. At least you’ll remember me there his voice said in my head. Little did he know there was no way I’d ever forget him. Dream Xavier pumped into me, and I tightened around him as he breathed onto my neck. I could feel the ecstasy radiating from his body, and I knew I was giving him the love his mind and soul needed.

  We were reckless, beautiful, and young. Free to explore one another; I let his seed fill my womb, and I was his real wife. It was such a delightful dream. When my screaming bladder tugged and pulled me awake, I could feel the warmth of his body and his semi-hard cock between my ass cheeks. I loved the way he felt. He was warm and perfect. I didn’t want the moment to end.

  I was beginning to care deeply for him; however, I’d have to muse on that thought later as my bladder couldn’t wait. Not only was my bladder beating me up for not peeing sooner, the bright sun was also streaming angrily through the window. I cursed myself for not closing the blackout curtains last night. It would have been nice to have a couple more hours to sleep in peace. Neither of us had anything pressing happening that morning; we could have stayed in bed and had each other again. I couldn’t believe he could stay asleep with all this blaring light.

  I slowly pried myself out of his grip as he moaned a little but didn’t wake. I slid my body off the bed and raced to the blackout curtains closing them, so he could continue to sleep. Maybe I’d return to my spot and go back to the beautiful dream I was having.

  I ran to the bathroom, making it just in time. While I was in there, I heard my phone ringing, which reminded me I also wished I’d put my phone on silent. When I was done in the bathroom, I went to see who had called. I had the twenty-seven missed calls I had ignored during the night as well as tons of text messages, each escalating in their level of anger and urgency. They were all from my father. At first, the messages were apologizing for being late. Those I’d responded to with a “Don’t worry. I’ll be out with a friend, don’t wait up.”

  The next were wondering where I was. They sort of sounded concerned for my well-being, so I confirmed that I was with a friend but didn’t specify who, and not to worry, I was safe, everything was fine. The following texts were more demanding, telling me to come back to the hotel immediately. I kindly reminded him I was an adult not a child, and I’d see him later the next day and to give my regrets to his friend I was sure to meet some other day.

  That’s when the text messages got a little scary, and I assumed my dad was drunk. I certainly was by that point. So, I just turned my phone down but not off and ignored it for the rest of the night. What I was reading, though, in the last few texts that had come in a few moments before, had my blood freezing in my veins. His friend and he were in my hotel room and were desperate to find me. They were going to call someone to drag me back to them and not to move, someone would come to get me soon.

  The last text I’d gotten was six minutes ago, telling me he’d used my “where’s my phone” app to track my phone to the Bellagio, and he was coming to get me now. That one sent me into a panic. My heart was beating so hard I almost threw up. His text further explained that I’d been gifted to his friend as part of a business deal. I was to pack my things and go with him immediately for an undisclosed amount of time. I was to do so without complaint and accommodate his friend’s needs without resistance. My palms sweated, and I could barely think.

  Was I going to be this man’s slave? His plaything? I almost passed out reading it; everything seemed like fiction. He had dared then to use flattery saying his friend wanted me because he had seen me once and thought I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever beheld. I felt sick. I felt angry, and I was terrified. If I went to the police, there could be a lot of trouble for me. My dad had connections to the Mafia; he’d worked with them my whole life. I figured it out when strange “uncles” used to come to the house or the shop, bearing tons of cash, smelling of foul cologne, full of kisses for me and then I’d never see them again. Sometimes they stayed with us for a while, sometimes they stayed only for a few hours. Everything my dad did with his job was veiled in secrecy or lies. I imagined he was a big mob boss with horror when I was younger, but it turned out to be true. He wasn’t the boss, but he sure knew a lot of very corrupt people. There had been times in my life when people disappeared. No cops ever showed up to investigate, and things were swept under the rug. I realized early in my childhood my father could be lethal, angering him often meant going to an early grave.

  I knew I couldn’t stay with Xavier in his room. My dad and his “friend” the monster were probably already in the hotel, if not on their way there. I couldn’t be sure; our hotel was at least a mile away. Since he had just called, I turned off my phone and took out the battery, hoping it would disable his ability to find me. Panicked, I tried to unscramble my brain and make a plan. I had to get out of the hotel and away from Vegas
as fast as I could.

  I didn’t want Xavier caught up in all of this; he didn’t deserve it. I looked at his beautiful sleeping face, and my heart broke into a million painful pieces. I searched for my clothes on the floor. Finding them, I realized I didn’t want to put my nasty thong back on or my dress. Considering I wasn’t sure where I was going, I couldn’t really wear the dress safely during the day, it was a little too loose and short.

  I glanced over at the pile of Xavier’s clothes and decided I could handle being a thief if it meant saving my life. Hopefully, one day he’d understand. I put on his underwear, his pants, and his shirt. All were swimmingly too big on me and smelled beautifully like him. If I couldn’t have him, at least I’d have his scent. I looked at his face again, his perfect, incredible face, his strong chiseled body, his powerful arms, and his amazing penis; all parts of the man I’d come to love in just one night. I knew I’d miss him forever.

  I grabbed my tiny studded bag; it didn’t hold much, my wallet, my phone, and my passport. Since my driver’s license fell out of my board shorts while teaching a surf lesson the week prior, I carried my passport as identification until my new ID arrived. I grabbed my phone, afraid of the power it now held, and our marriage license. If I needed to change my name, I’d need this paper. I was sure Xavier wouldn’t care if it was gone. I was pretty sure we would’ve been annulling our wedding at some point today anyway. After I found someplace safe, I’d contact him and make sure the legal issues between us were resolved. I didn’t want him thinking I was trying to take him for more than he gave me.

  I glanced back at him one more time, the tattoo still red and painful across his arm. Arcadia. I hoped he didn’t mind that he had it. We were so drunk, but the night … it was absolutely amazing. One I’d never forget, ever. I glanced at my own tattoo, also healing, a dolphin jumping out to the sky. It had more significance now than I’d ever anticipated. I took off my wedding ring and set it next to Xavier’s on the bedside table, but it felt so final letting go of the ring, letting go of him. I put it back on, feeling a little guilty, but it was the only part of him I got to keep. I blew him a kiss and quietly left the room, terrified I might find my dad in the hall. All I had to do was get out … just get out and get away.

  I raced to the elevator, wishing I’d stolen a hat to cover my hair. I flipped up the collar of his shirt and just made due. It wasn’t a good disguise, but at least my dad wouldn’t be looking for me to be wearing men’s clothes. He commented on my dress as he left for his fucking business meeting, so he knew what I was wearing. He probably also knew what I might have been doing with my “friend”, so I wasn’t totally safe; he may have expected me to be wearing a lover’s clothes. That alone would get both Xavier and me killed, most likely.

  In fact, it was so rare I’d slept with men my dad probably thought I’d met a girl gambling, and we were out having fun at the casino. He probably didn’t think I was with a man since I knew he’d kill anyone who slept with me without his permission. That’s what boiled the blood in my veins. He wouldn’t let a decent man touch me but had no problems selling me to some monster. How the hell did he plan on getting away with that? It was all too surreal to consider; I just had to get out. When the elevator doors opened, I dropped back scanning the lobby for signs of them. There was nothing; the room was relatively quiet. A maid was vacuuming the floor, and one front desk agent stood at the long counter. I checked my surroundings again and made my way to the counter.

  I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going, but I had an idea. I had a lot of money I’d been saving for my next tuition payment. I’d have to cash that out so he wouldn’t check with my bank to see where I was spending money. Then I thought about taking the Greyhound bus to Mexico. My Aunt Claudia and I had always schemed that I could take a bus to Mexico and then from Mexico I’d take a bus to Costa Rica where she lived.

  “It’s so cheap,” she’d always say. “Just come visit me and get away from all that hard work, spend the summer here.” She was so sweet and wonderful.

  Dad never let me leave the house really. I just worked and studied. Sometimes I’d go out with friends, but rarely. The last thing I wanted to tell him was that Aunt Claudia wanted me to come for a visit. The good thing was, he didn’t know that Aunt Claudia was in Costa Rica as she always bounced from place to place. Aunt Claudia wasn’t really an aunt, she was a friend of my mother’s. Even though my mom took off, Aunt Claudia kept an eye on me as I grew up. I always dreamed she would someday tell me my mom had cared and that she regretted leaving me. When Aunt Claudia figured I was growing up okay, she ran away too, but I still loved her.

  In the few minutes it took me to nervously cross the lobby from the elevator to the front desk, I had a plan. I was going to withdraw my money from the hotel ATM tucked to the left of the door in a nice dark nook and take a taxi to the Greyhound station. My father wouldn’t find me there as he’d never in a million years expect me to get on a bus to go anywhere. He was above public transportation. If it weren’t for Aunt Claudia, I never would have considered a bus. To me, the only modes of transit were a private car or an airplane. A bus would never figure into my dad’s suspicions.

  If I took all my money out of the ATM, he might think I’d gambled it all and that was why I was avoiding him. It was a good cover. He must’ve told me a million times to watch my money in Vegas. He should’ve known I was more responsible than that, but I was glad he wasn’t perceptive enough to know me that well. His last text to me about his friend was not only a threat but perhaps also a punishment for inevitably doing something stupid like staying out all night with someone I’d just met and losing my entire savings. My heart pounded in my throat when I went to the front desk agent who looked bored and sleepy.

  “I need to call a car please,” I said, eyeing him as I walked over.

  I didn’t think much about the way I looked, but I bet it was as bad as I thought it might be, having unstyled, air-dried hair, wearing loose-fitting, rumpled men’s clothes. It was Vegas; I’m sure he’d seen his fair share of bedraggled whores. I was just one more. I looked at my tiny wedding ring. I was Xavier Dean’s wife. That gave me comfort. Despite the fantasy, I was his wife, if only for a night. The thought kept me sane while my eyes continued to scan the room, just waiting for my father to show up and snatch me away.

  If he did walk through those doors, I was sure to cause a scene, one so big every security officer in the place would come running. There was no way in hell I’d be “gifted” to anyone. This gave me peace as well. No matter when or if I was apprehended, I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  “We have a hotel car service; would you like to use that?” the front desk agent asked in a droll and polite tone.

  “Yes, please,” I answered, not even caring about the cost. I just needed the quickest way out of there.

  The car came while I withdrew my money from the ATM. Luckily, I did so without seeing any sign of my father. I slid into the polished leather car seat, closed the door, and finally took a deep breath. I’d done it, I’d escaped. We drove away from the gleaming gold walls, and my heart felt both light with relief and heavy with regret. I was leaving Xavier behind.

  Chapter 9

  Xavier

  “What the fuck buddy? It’s like noon, you missed brunch,” I heard trailing into my room from some distant planet.

  There was no way I was getting out of the warmth of my bed. Even though I was sated and comfortable, I had a strange feeling that something was missing; something felt incredibly empty. I dismissed it as my stomach needing food, and my poor battered brain needed a pain reliever from a night of over-drinking … and water … and, fuck. I just tried to go back to sleep and ignore whatever was interrupting it.

  The bed dipped.

  “So, if Crystal asks, the lap dance last night after you ditched us, you bastard, was not sex. It was just a little grinding. But, oh my God it was such good mind-blowing grinding. Don’t tell her that … ever. But seriously, I came s
o hard, and I never even got my cock out.”

  I groaned at the sound of Damon’s voice.

  “Go away, asshole. Can’t you see I’m sleeping?” I hoped I sounded as irritated as I was.

  “No asshole, we have golf with my soon-to-be-father-in-law in an hour. I promised you’d be there. He might be a bit of a fan, but you owe me, brother, for ditching me last night. You left me with my wild irresponsible friends, so it’s your fault if Crystal finds out I paid for another lap dance in my hotel room. Very private … very fucking mind-blowing, and somehow my cock slipped out then. Again, Crystal will never know … what the hell do you have on your arm?”

  His voice was so shocked I peeled my eyes open just to see what he was talking about and also my arm was really tender and sore.

  “Is that someone’s name fucking tattooed on your arm?” His voice was icy with disbelief.

  I bolted up in bed, fully naked, grateful for the sheet covering my morning wood. I craned my neck to see my arm and everything came flooding back to me. Arcadia!

  I leaned my head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling in shock.

  “Arcadia? Who the fuck is Arcadia and bro, is that a wedding band? I mean it’s tacky as all hell, but it’s on your left fucking finger … wanna explain?” He saw some humor in my situation now, where all I had was dread.

  Everything came racing back, and the memories weren’t bad at all, in fact, everything I made my brain recall was pleasant and wonderful. I sat up slowly and looked around the room, a sense of loss seeping into my skin. Where was she?

  “Arcadia,” I said slowly, “is the girl I married last night.”

  That was fun. Seeing the horror and shock on his face was priceless.

  “What the fucking hell?” was all he could manage to get out. “Story, please.” He got up off the bed and settled into a chair. “We have some time.”