Thanks to EditorKarl for editing my story. This is my first story and i'll admit that I'm nervous as all get out! I hope you enjoy and Please leave feedback.
****
Ugh, Vegas! I thought bartenders were supposed to cut people off. No one my size should be allowed to drink so much! I don't know what time it is and I have an 11:00 am flight back home to Alpharetta. How in the world did I let Alicia's "Fuck him he ain't shit" speech entice me into a spur of the moment mini vacation? Was I in such a bad place that I actually listened to her "The only way to get over one man is to get under another speech".
I just woke up in a hotel room that isn't mine with a wedding ring on my finger. Somehow in all of my panic I didn't even notice the warm body sleeping next to me with his hand resting comfortably across my lap. Alexandros. His name flashes in my mind from our introductions last night.
I shift on the bed and feel an unfamiliar but telltale soreness that's confirmation of what I think happened last night. I reach out to lift the stray curl on his forehead and suck in a breath at how handsome he really is. I really picked a fine specimen of a man to get under! He is tall, tanned, and he's definitely got the handsome. How did I manage to hook up with someone like this last night? And what in the world made us decide to get married? I shake my head because I know that statement makes me sound like a girl with low self esteem, but after the epic breakup I just had, believe me the insecurity is totally valid.
Just thinking about Malcolm's reasoning and excuses makes a chill run down my spine. I groan at the thought of Alicia badgering me for the play-by-play details of this weekend. She will be trying to find out how I managed to marry and sleep with a complete stranger in four days when I didn't give it up to Malcolm even after we dated all four years of college. I don't know what was a bigger mistake: marrying and sleeping with a complete stranger, or wasting all my college years on my now ex, Malcolm!
I don't have time for this kind of distraction right now. I'm in a hotel room with a man I married and don't even know at o'dark-thirty in the morning. I've got to manage to get out of here pack, catch my flight, and, to top it off, I can't find my panties! I quietly slide a pillow under his arm, slip on my mini dress, grab my shoes, and find some hotel stationary to scribble a quick note to the Adonis sleeping in the bed.
Thank god there's no walk of shame in Vegas. I dash across the street and find my way back to my hotel room with a full blown hangover in tow, throw all my crap in my bag, and race down to the curb to grab a cab. Once through security, I board my flight and breathe a sigh of relief in my seat, and pull down my sleep mask. ATL International, here I come.
****
"
Dekára
! (
dammit!
)," Alex says in Greek as he rolls over to runs his hands through his curly jet-black hair. He glances down at his watch. 11:00 am! How did he sleep so late and not notice the warm supple body of his wife slipping out on him in the middle of the night? It had to have been the mind blowing sex they shared last night! He'd seen stars as his vision dimmed around the edges, and it was all he could do not to rest all his weight on her petite soft curvy body.
Wife. Wow! That word felt so heavy on his tongue, and yet satisfying. He'd felt her resistance, but he had no problem putting a platinum ring on her pretty little size seven finger.
Physically, she was perfect. She was petite, 5'1 at the most. She also had an ample ass—something he didn't even know he wanted in a woman, but it looked good on her. She had more than a handful of breast, firm and perky, and he definitely didn't feel that the extra was a waste. Her mocha skin had a golden glow, and her hair was in a large curly ponytail with red and brown highlights. She was sweet, shy, and definitely everything the women his mother tries to set him up with are not.
Best of all, she had no clue who he really was.
He really hoped that under that sweet exterior was a tough woman that could handle his overbearing nosy mother. Would she care that he was the heir of an empire and a mogul in his own right, or would she try to publicly divorce him and take half? Would she run from the complications that his kind of life can bring? He'd sensed her innocence and good nature, even with her inhibitions lowered. She'd been a little tipsy, but more than willing at the time to change her name to Mrs. Nichole Theron. He looked at the ring on his finger and smirked, wondering if she would have been so willing if she hadn't had liquid courage flowing through her veins.
He would have to tell her who he really was eventually, and convince her that even though they had married in haste, this couldn't be a mistake. Alex never got lost, and his ending up in that club wasn't an accident; it was to find her. He couldn't think about that now. He would find her and take her to Greece to meet the family and explain everything to her, but right now he needed to call Christoph and have him ready the Jet to fly back to Atlanta. He rolled over to get out of bed and found a note on the bedside table.
Dear Alex (or should I say husband since we were married last night?),
I really don't know what all happened last night, but I'm sure you can gather a few clues, LOL (Oh! This is so not funny!). Please contact me later this week so that we can discuss an annulment. I'm sure there's a standard form for people who do this kind of impulsive thing.
I'm sure you had no intention of marrying me last night. I don't know what I was thinking. I've never done anything like this before in my life, and that's no exaggeration—especially considering I was a virgin when we met last night.
I'm starting to think I was less warm and fuzzy and more along the lines of drunk beyond belief. I couldn't have been that drunk, though. I can recall the events of last night. Ugh! Now I'm rambling. I've got to go; I have a flight to catch.
Nichole (aka your "wife"?)
In her haste all she had left him was a name. No cell number, of course— it couldn't be that easy! But whoever said life was meant to be easy? The admission that she was a virgin hit him like a ton of bricks. She had felt so very tight when he had entered her warm and wet body. He worried that he had been too big for her and may have hurt her, but it never crossed his mind that she was innocent in every sense of the word. She was passionate and eager for his touch.
What was a woman like that doing in Vegas by herself? Not to mention that if he hadn't cut her off, she would have been more than drunk. Anger coursed through him at her carelessness and lack of self preservation. What if it hadn't been him that she'd allowed to lead her out of the club at midnight? Frustrated, he pulled back the bed covers and saw the truth of her words staining the 2500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.
How did he not notice? He would have been careful, slow and gentle. He would have prepared her to receive him better, even though she was already soaking wet by the time he entered her. He hoped that she felt more pleasure than pain. It had felt like the world moved when she erupted in orgasm around his cock, pulling him in as he thrust towards his own finish.
Alex knew he was no small man at 6'4, but she only came to his chest—and just barely. The rest of his body was proportionate to his built stature. He liked to work out most days; it helped to burn off the energy that was pent up during the seemingly endless board meetings. Truly frustrated with this turn of events, he ran his fingers through his hair again. He sighed and got out of bed to get dressed for the flight back home.
****
I'm so glad to be home; there's nowhere like home. I open the door to my condo, set my bags by the door, and flop down on the sofa. I look down at my left hand and marvel at my wedding ring. I'll take it to the jewelry store later to have it appraised and cleaned so I'll know how much to insure it for when I send it back to Alex once we've finalized the annulment.
I've always dreamed of my wedding day, and I'm struck with a feeling of sadness when I thought back to my breakup with Malcolm. Right now I should have been putting final touches on my wedding. Instead, I got married in a Vegas wedding chapel last night to a stranger, and the only thing I really knew about him is his name: Alexandros.
Bits and pieces of the night before fell into place while I was sleeping on the flight back home. I first saw him when he walked in the club, and, probably like all the other females there, I was drawn by his air of confidence. And who could overlook his stellar looks? He gave orders to those around him like he'd been doing it all his life, and the next thing I knew we were in the VIP section poppin' bottles.
He was tall—really tall, with golden olive skin and lean muscle, like he never missed a day at the gym or the pool. Beautiful black glossy hair, and he had the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. Black hair and green eyes—such an exotic combination! He looked like he had been clean-shaven that morning but at 10:00 he had a sexy shadow. I never really cared one way or another for facial hair, but he could definitely pull off either look.
I had never dated a white guy before (or anyone besides Malcolm for that matter). I told him, and he just laughed and said that technically he wasn't "white," he was Mediterranean—more specifically Greek.
I smiled and responded "I don't care what you are; I find you extremely sexy."
He leaned down and brushed his lips on my ear lobe, and I instinctively turned my head, and he kissed me so slowly and sensually it left me breathless and wanting more. He didn't push me to do more, and we sat, talked, and drank as he honestly listened looking into my eyes and not down at my boobs. Not that I could have blamed him that night.
I was wearing a white and silver satin ultra-mini dress with some spectacular four-inch silver fuck-me platforms. The dress was just long enough to keep my boy shorts hidden when standing up—no bending in this dress! If I dropped something either it would stay on the ground, or he'd have to pick it up for me. I felt confident and sexy. The short dress and the killer heels I wore gave the illusion that at 5'1 I had long legs.
I'll admit I felt a little shaken by Alex's predatory gaze as I walked back to the table after a restroom break. I smirked thinking that he looked like he would eat me. Boy how right was I!
One of my favorite songs came on—
Rack City
—and I pulled him out on the dance floor and pushed him up against the wall. I turned my back to him and started to dance. My four-inch heels put my ample ass in perfect position with his crotch. I planned to use all the courage my peach Ciroc and Redbull gave me as I began to pop and grind on his crotch.
