We were in Vegas now and drinking even more.
Apparently, it wasn’t illegal to have open containers while walking down the strip in Vegas...or if it was, none of the cops stopped us.
Then again, I’d seen quite a few other things that were clearly more pressing than two individuals with open containers.
Such as the man riding his unicycle naked, yelling something about how everyone was going to die since tonight was the end of the world.
Then there was the old lady with her tits tucked into her pants running around with a ‘Kill all extraterrestrials’ flag.
That one had been more traumatizing than any war I’d ever seen.
I could deal with blood, guts and gore, no problem. I apparently could not handle an overweight elderly woman with her nipples poking out where her vagina should be, though.
“There!” the woman at my side demanded, smacking me on the arm.
I turned to survey the chapel that she wanted to enter.
“That’s a chapel,” I told her. “Why do you want to go there?”
“Because I just saw two motorcycles pull in, and I want to know why.”
And that was how, in a completely unplanned, surprise turn of events, we got married by a couple of bikers.
I was still dressed exactly in what I’d been wearing at the previous wedding I’d attended. A pair of faded blue jeans that I used to work in, a black t-shirt, biker boots, and my cut.
The woman at my side, however, had changed.
Into a strapless number made purely of leather, that did fucking amazing things for her already banging body.
Full, perky tits spilled out of the top of the dress.
It hugged the curves of her rounded hips before coming to a stop at the top of her tanned thighs.
Yeah, I wasn’t completely blaming the alcohol for the reason I married her.
I would, however, blame the way she was completely murdering that dress with how she filled it.
I didn’t normally go for a full-figured woman.
But this woman, my God was she stunning.
She was absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous, and I let my dick do the thinking.
Just like the way I let my dick do the thinking two hours later as we finally made it into our hotel room.
I did, however, manage to cover my cock in a condom before I sank completely inside of her.
And it continued to do the thinking as I fucked her mercilessly. On her back. On her knees. On our sides.
Then she got on top, and I lost all ability to think.
We’d never actually managed to get her dress off of her before I was inside of her.
What we did manage to do, though, was get her panties off, and her breasts above the top of her dress.
And when she was riding me, her breasts were bouncing this way and that.
Her long, thick brown hair was waving about us every which way.
And God, did her pussy feel like heaven.
Something I told her over and over again as I professed my undying devotion to her beautiful cunt.
And hours later, when dawn finally started to kiss the sky, we fell into a breathless heap on the bed, and slipped into an exhausted sleep.
The next afternoon when we finally woke up, the reality of the situation hit us, and we somehow came to a decision to ignore everything and sweep it under the rug.
Which we thought would be easy since neither of us remembered much from the night before.
Looking at our naked, entangled bodies, we thought that was all it was.
Oh, how wrong we were.
Chapter 3
I already want to take a nap tomorrow.
-Verity’s secret thoughts
Verity
Three months later
“What the hell,” I muttered as I shouldered my truck door open and practically fell out.
Then I stopped, sent a quick text to Randi, my best friend, to let her know where I was in case someone decided to kidnap me, and headed for the door.
“This place has got to be in the worst part of town,” I muttered to myself as I walked to the door of the house and knocked.
No one answered.
I checked my phone, double checking the address, and frowned.
This place looked like a house.
In fact, if I had to guess where to get drugs in the small town of Mooresville, Alabama, it would be on Stark Street, where I was currently standing.
“Fuck me,” I grumbled, backed away, and turned to survey my surroundings.
There was a driveway on one side of the porch, and a small walkway on the other.
Going down the steps, I made my way to the walkway, and froze when I saw the bike directly next to the house.
It was pretty.
Though, it was missing a seat, and my heart started to pound.
It couldn’t be.
Carefully making my way past the huge motorcycle, I started walking, and that’s when I heard it.
Hammering.
In fact, I would say it sounded more like metal smashing against metal. Like someone was pounding something into submission.
Kind of like a bladesmith.
Smiling, I started to hurry in the direction of the noise, knowing I had to be in the right place.
My dad might have his dream birthday present after all.
My first mistake was not preparing myself.
The moment I saw the motorcycle, I should’ve known. Should’ve seen what was happening.
But I didn’t and I fucked up.
I allowed myself to think that I was invincible, and I wasn’t.
My heart, the thing that was still half broken but healing every day, started to pound the minute I pushed open the door to the shed-like thing at the back of the property, where the hammering was the loudest.
At first, it took time for my eyes to adjust, but once they did, boy oh boy were they rewarded.
There was a man standing with his back to me, one hand had a large hammer in it, and the other hand a long piece of glowing hot steel.
He was swinging the hammer at the metal, and each time he did, his muscles would flex.
When it would hit, the same muscles would bunch and release before he repeated the process all over again.
He was sweaty, too. Oh, so sweaty.
And he had a beard. From what little of it I could see, it was a magnificent one, too.
I bet he could do good things with that beard…
He turned, giving me a side view of his face, and I gasped.
I knew that beard!
I knew that face!
I’d ridden that beard!
It’d been buried between my thighs.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
I had to get out of there.
Turning, I was about to run back the way I came when the movement caught Truth’s attention, and he turned fully.
We both froze, staring at each other.
Then his mouth tipped up into a leering grin, and he said, “If it isn’t Ms. Very.”
I pursed my lips.
Very had been something he’d called me from the moment we woke up the next morning. After all of the riding and burying.
“H-hey,” I mumbled. “I was…”
“Leaving?” he guessed.
I straightened my spine and shook my head. “Uh, no.”
I never, for the life of me, expected to see the last man I slept with hammering something as I walked inside, but there was a first for everything.