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“You good company, but I’m going to find me a bottle and a blackjack table.”
“Now that sounds like my kind of party,” she answers.
“You’re welcome to join. You might bring me good luck.”
“We should start over,” she answers, and I frown—wondering if I’ve already had too much to drink.
“Not sure how to process that either, babe.”
“What’s your name?”
“Titan Marsh.”
“I’m Faith Lucas.”
“It’s a good name,” I respond, not sure what’s going on here.
“We’ll be friends,” she announces. She says it like she’s writing it in blood and making a pact with me. It’s a good thing she’s hot as fuck, because I get the feeling she’s as screwy as the rest of her family.
“Good to know. Are you leaving with me or are you going to wait around and see if you get knocked up?”
“I’m leaving. Let’s go find that bottle, Big Daddy,” she says, walking in front of me—which gives me a great view of her ass. It’s a view I like, and I enjoy every step we take away from Hope and Aden’s wedding.
one
faith
I whimper when the damn ping of my phone won’t hush. I squint, opening one eye—and one eye only.
Sweet Jesus on a turnip truck, I drank way too much last night. I warned Hope I didn’t do weddings. I hate them. She was in Vegas, and everyone knows you do the deed at a quicky drive-thru chapel somewhere and get it done—if you are ever crazy enough to say, “I do.”
I won’t… ever.
Slowly the room begins to come into a focus… it’s a blurry focus, but still.
The first thing I notice is everything hurts.
Even my hair.
Definitely had too much to drink. The second thing I notice is I’m not in my one-room apartment, lying on my broken-down, never comfortable, probably ruining my back forever, futon.
I’m in a bed. A really soft bed. I’m also in what appears to be a very fancy room. A room with entirely too much sunshine coming in through the windows. My gaze immediately goes to the open glass doors that lead out to a balcony. When I look around I can see I’m not only in a strange hotel room, I’m in one that costs bank.
Lots of bank.
Then, I just happen to notice the crumpled wedding dress on the concrete floor of the balcony.
That’s when panic begins, as memories flood through my mind.
Memories of the night before.
Of course, it might not be the crumpled dress that brings those back quite as much as the huge leg—not that leg—wrapped over mine, the arm currently wrapped across my stomach and the third leg—yes, that “leg”—pushing against my ass.
I look down at the milk chocolate beast of an arm and I swear the female bits between my legs tingle as memories of the night before flood through me. Memories of… Titan. I have the strongest urge to wiggle against the semi-aroused cock pressing against my ass, but I don’t. I hold myself really still.
Because I’m in the middle of the biggest panic attack ever.
I can’t remember all of what I did last night. It’s a blur of devil’s juice, eating the worm—disgusting, by the way, and I may never drink tequila again—and sex… so much sex.
Sex everywhere. Bed, floor, shower, closet—don’t ask—and against the wall. Sex against the floor-to-ceiling window with my ass mooning the strip, but… sex on that balcony after I was stripped of my wedding dress is the one that sticks in my mind. Sex where I hung over the concrete balcony screaming, “Fuck me, harder, Big Daddy,” while Titan did indeed fuck me harder for everyone and anyone to see. There are other balconies close by. I can’t be entirely sure who saw us… or who we may have scarred forever.
Because, let’s face it, sex in real life is never like the porn movies.
I slide out of the bed an inch at a time—panic making my heart slam against my chest so loud I want to cry, because my head hurts like hell. Titan grumbles but flops over on his back, still asleep. I stand there looking down at him and I can’t move.
He’s that beautiful.
His arms are slung out on each side, his head turned to the side, his well-trimmed goatee and beautiful, thick lips making my knees weak. The sheet is tangled in his feet and his dick is obviously alert, even if the rest of him isn’t.
The sight of his dick makes me glad I was drunk last night.
Lord have mercy on me, a poor sinner girl… He’s huge. I take a step toward it before I can stop myself. It’s bobbing up in the air like it’s nodding at me. It’s wide, as in—thick as hell. How many women has this man sent running from the room in fear—that kind of thick. I’ve seen a few dicks—I’m not a whore or anything—not counting last night—but I have, and this one is in a class all by itself. And he’s long. I don’t have a tape measure on hand, and I wouldn’t risk waking Titan up for it, but this man could be the pink unicorn of dicks. He could actually be a foot long. He might not be, but it would not surprise me. I back away when Titan grunts in his sleep. Each step I take hurts, only adding credence to Titan’s dick. Damn, I might not walk right for a month.
