Vegas Love (7 page)

Or maybe it’s that skirt.
 

“This is amazing!” she yells in my ear. “The energy. All these people. You can feel the beat in your chest and—”

I kiss her, stopping her mid sentence. Someone is grinding against my back, bodies are pushing against my sides, but it’s the one flattened against the front of me that I can feel.
 

Every little movement she’s making.

She pulls my hands up in the air with hers. Her crotch is moving against my leg. Her breath is on my neck.
 

I know this is supposed to be just a crazy one-night stand, but there’s a big part of me that wishes it could be more.
 

Maybe it’s the circumstances. The supposed random hookup at a friend’s wedding. Or maybe it’s the way her ass seems to perfectly fit in my hands.

Or her crazy laugh.
 

Or the little freckles scattered imperfectly across her perfect nose.

Or the way she moaned when I fucked her.
 

I slide one of my hands up under her skirt, roaming for the lace of her thong.
 

She pushes my hand away. “You can’t do that here.”

“Says who?” I ask, moving under the front this time. I’m a bit shocked when my hand comes in contact with only her skin. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
 

“How could I in this skirt?”

I shove my hand between her legs, my finger moving inside her to the beat of the music. Lights flash and glow around us as she tosses her head back in pleasure.

Then she grabs my face and kisses me. She pulls her skirt down then drags me off the dance floor and into a dark corner of the club, where she undoes my pants, pulls my dick out, and sits on my lap, taking me inside her.
 

“Don’t move,” she says into my mouth as she grinds against me, causing me to grow even harder. “That’s it. Damn, you feel good. I just needed you inside me again.”

Even though I’m pretty sure the well is dry, I can’t take it. I thrust my hips up hard, causing her to bounce on top of me.

“Excuse me,” a voice says as a flashlight shines on us. “I’m going to have to ask you two to leave.”

She jumps up, startled, and I use her body as a shield while I quickly zip my pants.
 

“Why?” she asks.
 

“You know why,” he says, escorting us out.
 

We’re let out of a side door just off the Strip.
 

“That was awesome! We got kicked out of the club! I need some more shots!” She leads me toward the bright lights.

“Hang on,” I say, stopping to unzip my pants and pull up my underwear. They were still pushed way down and making it difficult to walk.
 

She reaches in and grabs my cock. “I like him.”
 

When a group of people walks by us with foot-long margaritas, she lets go of me and runs after them. “Ohmigawd! Where did you get those?”

“Just up the street,” one girl says.
 

“You look familiar,” another says. “Do I know you?”
 

“I don’t think so,” she replies, clearly hoping they don’t recognize her. She points at me. “But if you all want another margarita, he’s buying.”
 

She grabs my hand and skips toward the margarita bar. The group follows her like she’s the Pied Piper.

We all get margaritas. Then we walk down the Strip, hand in hand, while she points out all the fun things she sees.

She grabs my phone and has our new friends take pictures with us at the fountains, with a guy who looks like one of the characters from
The Hangover
movie, kissing with the lights of the Strip behind us, and with a Power Ranger. We’ve been snapping random photos all night, since I told her I wasn’t the kind of guy who would share them.

We ride a gondola at the Venetian and then go to the top of the Eiffel Tower, where we kiss and take even more pictures.

Later, as we’re wandering aimlessly, a guy hands me an ad for a strip club.
 

“Do you want to go?” she asks.

I push her against the wall of a casino and kiss her. “Why would I need to go there? I’d rather have you strip for me.”

“Oh god,” she says, “that’s so the right answer.”

But then she’s distracted by a store. “Oh, look! Let’s get candy!”

The group of people we met are headed to the club we got kicked out of, but she adds their numbers to my phone so we can meet up later.

She throws what’s left of our melted drinks away so we can go into the store.
 

After she buys a bag full of suckers, I suggest we get something to eat. All I’ve had since I left home were warm nuts and a crappy first-class meal. I order us each cheeseburger sliders and she orders a girly drink for us
to share.

“Oh, look how cute it is!” she says, excitedly, when they bring out the blue fishbowl drink that has gummy worms in it and is smoking from dry ice.
 

“So, Sexy,” she says after we’ve finished the sliders. “Do you wanna do something
really
crazy?”
 

I smile at her. God, I love her sense of adventure. “Hell yeah.”

“Let’s get married!”

“Married?” I take a long drink from the fishbowl. “Married. Well, what the hell. Why not! We’re in Vegas!”

“Let’s go shopping,” she says. “You look good, but I’ll need something white.”

“Because you’re still a virgin?” I tease.

“Yes, exactly,” she says with a laugh.

“We also need to get a ring,” I tell her.

“Eek!” She leans over the table and kisses me. Then she announces to the restaurant, “We’re getting married!”

Everyone around us claps while she takes a napkin and scrawls something illegible on it.
 

“What’s that supposed to say?” I ask.

“It’s our prenup. It says when we get our quickie divorce next week, we won’t sue each other for money.”
 

I scrawl out a signature and slide it in front of her. “You need to sign it too.”
 

She does, then tucks it into her bra.
 

I throw some cash on the table, and we stumble out to the street.

I grab her hand tightly and lead her to a hotel where I’ve seen a jewelry store. If I remember right, there’s a dress shop next door.
 

When we get there, she gives me a kiss. “You pick out rings. I’m going to buy a dress. I want you to be surprised when I walk down the aisle.”

I’m grinning from ear to ear when I sit down and tell the jewelry salesman I’m getting married.

“Excellent. Do you need an engagement ring or just wedding bands?”

“An engagement ring,” I decide. “Well, both. We’re getting married tonight.”

“Congratulations,” he says, setting a tray of rings in front of me.
 

“Something bigger,” I demand. “I know this is just a quickie wedding that we’ll laugh about someday—but there’s a big part of me that wants to marry a girl just like her. And if I’m going ask my dream girl to marry me for the night, I might as well fucking do it up right.”

“Do you have a budget in mind?”
 

“I just want something that will make her cry when she sees it.”

He nods, excuses himself, and then brings out another tray, this one with much larger diamonds. “These solitaires are in the five-carat range.”

I point to a ring that I know she will love. How I know that, I have no idea. Maybe it’s because I’m sorta drunk. Not sure. But, somehow, I know.

He picks the ring up. “Four point two carats, princess cut, platinum, ringed with another one point six carats.” He shows me the price tag.

It doesn’t even faze me, but I say, “Surely you can do better than that.”

“In honor of your wedding, I will take ten percent off. Would you like the matching wedding band as well?”

“Yes, I would.”

“And how about for you?” He sets down a tray of men’s rings, and I choose a thick platinum band with striped etching.
 

He asks if it will be cash or charge.
 

I reach in my wallet, pulling out the black Visa tied to my trust fund. One that, so far, I’ve never used.
 

After he gets my driver’s license, signature, and approval, I ask him if he can help me with something else.

“Certainly,” he says, handing me a card and telling me to meet there in thirty minutes.
 

I go outside and wait for her.
 

A few minutes later, she bounds out with a garment bag and kisses me. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. I’m so excited! Where should we go? I’ve heard there’s a little white chapel somewhere.”

“I have a better idea.” I take her hand, leading her through the casino and to a balcony that overlooks the fountains.
 

As we arrive, the show starts. I couldn’t have timed it better if I tried.

“It’s so pretty here!” she squeals.
 

I take her hand and bend down on one knee. “Hotass, you’re the craziest, coolest, and sexiest girl I’ve ever met. Will you marry me tonight?”

She screeches, “Yes!”

As I stand up, she throws her arms around my neck and kisses me.
 

“You haven’t seen the ring yet,” I tell her.
 

“We’ll do the wedding rings at the ceremony, won’t we—”

I pop open the lid, revealing the engagement ring and effectively silencing her.
 

“Oh my gosh! Is that real? It can’t be real, it’s so sparkly and huge and beautiful!”

“It’s
very
real,” I say, slipping it on her finger.
 

“It fits,” she says. “How does it fit?”
 

“Just lucky, I guess.”

She stares at the ring and gets tears in her eyes. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.”

I cup her face in my hands and tell her how I really feel. “That’s because you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I Vegas love you.”

“I Vegas love you too,” she says, letting the tears fall.
 

I brush them away and glance at my watch. “Come on. Let’s go get married.”

“Where are we going?”

“To a chapel.”

I drag her there and point out a nearby bathroom. “You can put your dress on in there.”

Then I send a quick text to the group of people we met earlier and invite them to the wedding.

When I finish, the jewelry salesman rounds the corner and hands me a garment bag.

“Thank you,” I say happily. “Will you stand up for us?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” he replies.

Maybe I’m Drunk

Ashlyn

I’m giddy, staring at the ring and getting dressed.
 

I look at myself in the mirror.
 

I look a little silly in the blond wig, but I’m keeping it on.
 

The last thing I need is for someone to recognize me and post online that Ashlyn Roberts—not the award-winning actress, but
the sex tape girl
—is getting married in Vegas on the night Zach Ellison broke up with her.
 

For a second, I wonder if I should really go through with it.

This is crazy.

I don’t even know this guy.
 

But I fluff my fake hair, put on some lipstick, and touch up my eyeliner anyway. I may look silly, but I’ve never felt happier in my life.

Or maybe it’s because I’m drunk.

Just who the hell is this sexy guy anyway?

I look down at the sparkle on my finger.
 

How did he afford a ring like this? And why the hell would he buy it for me?

The thought crosses my mind that he loves me.
 

Okay, now I know I’m drunk.

There’s a knock at the door and a woman comes in. “Are you ready to get married?”

“Yes, I am!”

She hands me a beautiful bouquet of pale roses and leads me to a stained glass chapel.
 

The pews are filled with the people we drank margaritas with.

Sexy is standing in front of the altar wearing a black tuxedo.
 

Tears fill my eyes.
 

God, he’s so handsome, and funny, and sincere. Why can’t I find a guy like him for real?
 

As the music starts playing, I try to walk straight down the aisle. I know I’m a little off balance, but I’m surprised when I stumble in my new heels. Luckily, I catch myself on a pew.
 

The margarita people cheer me on, and I eventually make it to the altar.