Saint James, Elle - Unbridled and Unhitched [The Double Rider Men's Club 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (4 page)

“I’m about to come,” he whispered urgently. His hand came to her head as if he might pull her off, but she was on a mission. She
wanted
him to come. She loved the way men were so giddy and happy after a blow job.

Other memories surfaced with each passing moment. Perhaps she could enlist their help during the remainder of her stay in Vegas. Besides, it was beyond stimulating to suck a near stranger’s cock to completion after fucking him in the wee hours of the morning. And she just realized she’d fucked him earlier before she even knew his name.

She gripped his cock and deep-throated him. He stiffened beneath her. His fingers tightened around a handful of her hair. He sprayed the back of her throat with his release. She swallowed and mentally patted herself on the back.

Even through the foggy memory banks of her mind, she remembered that he’d given her a whopper of a climax this morning. She owed him one in return as she didn’t even remember anything after she came. If he’d had any gratification from earlier, she was embarrassed to admit she’d slept through it.

She pulled her mouth off of his still stiff cock and kissed several of his many prominent abs. He was another Mr. Hottie. Now she had a Mr. Hottie of the morning to go with her Mr. Hottie from last night. A matched set. She already didn’t want to break them up.

Alexis searched her memory for what had happened with Jackson the night before and came up empty. How awkward not to remember a single thing about the night they’d spent together before his friend showed up this morning and delighted her.

Derek was still breathing hard. On his back, grin on his mouth, panting like he’d just run a marathon, he pushed out a long breath and said, “Want to get married?”

She laughed. “Not necessary.” But the phrase he had just used tickled her memory. She’d heard that recently, hadn’t she?

“
Want to get married? It’s Vegas.” Who said that to me?

She pulled her hand from beneath the sheets and patted his still-hard cock. Her fingers blazed a trail up past his tightened abs and headed for his chest. That’s when she saw it. Something
very
unfamiliar.

There was a very wide, shiny gold wedding ring on the third finger of her left hand.

Alexis straightened and held up her arm in the air as if a spider had just crawled there to spin a new web. Then she did what any self-respecting, accidental bride would do on the morning after an unexpected wedding.

She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Chapter Three

Jackson had been trying to wake up for several seconds without success. He swore he’d just heard low talking and possibly sex taking place. Why was he so lethargic? Until the woman screamed bloody murder. Then it was easier. His head pulsed with pain at the piercing noise seemingly inches from his ear.

He rallied his strength and sat up in bed. “Stop screaming. For the love of God and all that is holy.” His head pounded and throbbed relentlessly. He took a deep breath to quell the pain ringing through his brain.

Her shrill voice continued with a bevy of questions. “What is this wedding ring doing on my finger? What in the hell happened last night? And why am I sleeping with two men again?”

Jackson opened one eye halfway. He saw a streak of purple hair in a sea of blonde, and a memory tugged his conscious. He didn’t know about any wedding rings, but he could answer why she was in bed with two men. He didn’t, however, know at all what had happened last night. He tried to call up memories from the night before, but nothing came.

Wasn’t she the dish from the bar last night? The purple strands of hair had captured his interest both last night and right now. He wanted to know her. If only she’d lose the aghast expression covering her lovely face. At least she’d stopped shrieking.

“What?” he croaked. Why was his mouth as dry as the Sahara?
Shit
. How much did they drink last night?

He brought his hand up and rubbed it down his face, trying his damndest to wake up. And then he saw the matching wide gold band on his left hand.
What the fuck!

“Oh my God, you have a ring, too. Did we get married last night?” Her piercing tone matched the one dancing in his head. But she was so fucking sexy, he had a hard time forming words.

“Shit, Jackson, I leave you alone in Vegas for a couple of days and you change our lives.” Derek slid from bed on the other side. It was the first Jackson realized that his best friend was even in the room.

“I actually don’t remember too much about last night,” Jackson admitted.

The flash of gold on his finger seemed so foreign, and yet so familiar. A quick flash of his slipping a smaller gold band on her finger filtered through his memory. They’d been laughing. Happy to be putting rings on. Joyous in the occasion.
Fuck
.

Jackson suspected they were already married, Vegas style. He slid the ring around his finger a couple times wondering why he didn’t feel the tremendous weight of responsibility and dread. He glanced at his bride. Her expression was as shrill as her voice. He couldn’t really blame her. But again he was stunned by her luscious, sexy face, body, and scent.

She worried the ring around her finger a couple of times. “Honestly, I don’t remember getting married. Not a single detail.”

“I vaguely remember the chapel.” Jackson tried to remember anything else.

“Wait.” She paused after she spoke. “I think I remember the chapel, too.”

“Shit.” She put a hand to her forehead and gazed into his eyes as if searching for a way out of whatever mess they’d gotten into overnight. “Was the minister an Elvis impersonator?”

“Maybe,” Jackson replied trying desperately to recall a slim grasp of any shred of memory. “I think I dreamed about a slicked back, shiny pompadour.”

Derek laughed out loud. “Are you telling me, that you two got so drunk that you really got married?” He laughed again and exited the bed. “Awesome. I love Vegas.”

“Not funny, Derek.”

“Maybe you just bought rings. There’s no problem here, unless of course you find a doubly signed marriage document, right?”

Jackson slid from his side of bed and checked his messy belongings. He straightened them slightly as he searched for clues. Nothing. He grabbed his discarded pants from a pile on the floor wondering why he hadn’t at least folded them before tossing them on the ground. He shot his hand into a pocket. Nothing.

Then he tried the other front pocket. He felt paper and closed his eyes. He pulled the paper out, hesitating the need to look. But he had to see. He unfolded the paper and flattened it out against his thigh. He scanned the formal document noting one very sloppy but recognizable signature on the bottom. He read a name from the top. “Alexis Sherwood?”

Her shoulders slumped in the bed as she watched him read from the most important document they’d both signed in the last twelve hours. He turned it around. “Or should I say, Alexis Cordell?”

Jackson stood there with the foreign document in his hands. A marriage license he never expected to have in his possession. He then stared at the purple streak in her hair. Just like it had the previous two times, her hair with the purple streak of rebellion intrigued him. Why put streaks in her hair in the first place? And why purple?

He shook the foolish question off as ultimately unimportant. He was obviously untrustworthy while in her alluring presence. He remembered that she had also crashed the DRMC party the night before last. “Why did you sneak into our men’s club party the other night?”

“What?” She’d scooted to the edge of the bed, but kept the sheet firmly wrapped around her body. Pity. He didn’t remember what her breasts looked like. Ample, from what he could tell through the gathered fabric. He must have seen them last night. He wished he could remember anything after going into the bar. He’d been on his way back to his room to work before Derek got in. He’d planned on ordering room service. He’d caught a glimpse of purple streaks and stopped to watch her.

Had she been almost taken advantage of, or was this a big show on her part? Was her troubled expression a ruse? Was she responsible for drugging him and tricking him into marriage?

“I’m talking about the Double Rider Men’s Club party. I saw you enter and watch the sexy stage show. Then you ran off when the guard came back into the room.”

The off-white sheet she held in place only covered her torso. She had legs that went on seemingly forever. What he wouldn’t give to have them wrapped around his waist. Her abrupt reaction startled him from his inappropriate sexual reverie.

She immediately turned red from roots to toes. He’d never seen a full-body blush before. What did she look like without the sheet? Probably perfect. The smile that shaped his mouth was unintentional. The sudden mystery of what her naked body looked like tugged at his mind.

“What’s so funny?” she asked. The hurt tone in her voice was hard to ignore.

He forced a frown. “Nothing. There is nothing funny at all about this entire scenario.” He waved the paper in the air. He still held his pants in the other.

“Play nice, you two,” Derek said. “I’m going to call Dillon and have him come up to our room. He can test both of you to see if you were drugged.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait. I don’t want this to become public, if you don’t mind.”

Derek smiled at her. “He’s very discreet. I promise.”

He turned to Jackson with a serious stare. “Behave yourself while I go to make this call. I mean it.”

Jackson shot him a dirty look, but nodded. Still holding the marriage license, he put his wrinkled pants back on. He hated not being in absolute control. To that end, he never drank too much. Never did drugs because he didn’t like the sense of not being in utter command of every second of his life. This situation was his worst nightmare unfolding around him. And the worst part of all was that Derek was already so deeply involved.

Unfortunately, Jackson didn’t once remember thinking of Derek last night. Not in the club event when she stepped inside the room to watch. Not when he watched from outside the hotel bar. Not when he’d approached her and offered to buy her a drink. Damn it. He and Derek always shared women. Always.

The lack of considering Derek’s opinion or desires bothered Jackson all the way to his core. Or maybe he had considered Derek and forgot that part. Perhaps he forgot about Derek like he forgot everything else for the past twelve hours.
Fuck
. He hated this so much.

Alexis started talking. “As to the question you asked me before. I was in the room because I was looking for a quiet place to rest and contemplate my shitty life. Had I known the level of orgy and debauchery was so high in the late night lineup, trust me when I tell you I would have found a different place to go.” Her head dropped and faced the floor in front of her.

She sniffed once. He ignored the idea that she might be crying, but the starch was fading from his surly attitude. She was obviously upset. However, his unfiltered thoughts kept coming out of his mouth. “Whatever. You watched for fifteen minutes before being chased out. If the guard hadn’t shown up, you probably would have stayed longer.”

She pulled her gaze from the floor to his face and stared a hole into him. A half smirk formed. “I’m so sorry that you were forced to watch
me
for fifteen minutes instead of the highly erotic double-penetration sex performance on the stage.” Her eyes flashed in anger. Jackson was so turned on he could barely contain himself. He wanted her.

His mouth, however, hadn’t gotten the message. He replied, “You aren’t sorry. You were probably in there looking for a man. Someone wealthy that you could lure into a fraudulent marriage scheme, weren’t you?”

“That’s rich. I’m in bed naked with two strange men and a wedding ring, but
I’m
the one who caused all of this. Whatever.” She stood angrily tugging at the sheet as if trying to get more to cover her body, but it wouldn’t detach from the corner of the bed. She sat back down hard on the edge and adjusted the sheet for maximum coverage. Pity.