Deceived 4 - The Wedding (8 page)

I picked up the rubbery device and held it out on the open palm of my hand.
“Saddle up, cowboy.”

Patrick furrowed his brow, winked and
pulled the cock ring as wide as he could. Finally, after stretching the rubbery material, he managed to wiggle the cock ring into place. He laid me back on the bed and pushed my legs open. My heart picked up as he slowly ran his hands down my inner thighs. His warm strong fingers massaged up and down the delicate skin. His hands were so large he could easily cover most of my flesh as he caressed; on the up stroke, he pushed his thumbs first to the outer edges of my pussy, then all the way up to my clit. It was on fire. I wanted more. I arched into his strokes but held myself back. I wanted to thrust my pelvis to meet this thumbs, but I waited.

When he pulled his hands away to straighten up,
I watched as he took his thumb and sucked it. I whimpered at the absence of his touch. I opened my eyes to see why he had stopped. He was kneeling over me with a sheepish grin. With one flick of his finger he hit the “on” switch of the little vibrator that was attached to the cock ring. My eyes widened and a tingle of anticipation shot through my body. I wiggled on the bed, my nerves on high alert. It was all I could do to keep from jumping up and shoving him in me. I waited breathlessly.

“
Are you ready for this?” He spoke in a low voice and then he grasped the base of his cock and gave it a couple strokes for my viewing. I practically trembled with delight. I loved it when he held his cock. It looked so commanding, like he was going to drive it home. I was excited to feel the vibrations of our new sex toy. I knew what other vibrators felt like and I wondered if this one would be the same, or if it would just be an awkward lump in the way.

Slowly, he lowered himself closer to me. First he spread my lips apart and touched the tip of his penis to my clit. It was already moist with pre-semen and he swirled it back and forth across my nub.
I pulled in a sharp breath. I always reacted that way to his touch on my sensitive spot. He continued teasing with his cock and then his fingers found their way to the moistness and twirled around my clit. I groaned and grabbed a fist full of sheets. I wanted more but he knew how to build me up, he knew how to stroke me just right to make it last. He reached between my legs and slipped two fingers in me, as if preparing for the final act. He quickly flicked his two fingers inside of me, in a “come hither,” motion, stroking my G-spot, ramping me up for the big explosion. His fingers played with my clit one more time before entering me and I groaned as I felt the girth of his shaft spreading me apart. There was a cool sensation against my clit as the dancing vibrator hit. The surprise of the coolness and the vibration together jolted me even higher. I purred as I let the rhythm of the device shudder into me with a pleasant steady flow of carnal delight.

The vibrations were working fast. My orgasm was rising
out of my control. It was like being on a train and knowing it was headed for a crash. It was going where it wanted to, and I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to stop it. I liked it. My eyes rolled back in my head as Patrick moved in and out of me, being careful not to push too hard against the vibrator.

My awareness of the room faded as I lost
myself in the rising orgasm. All I could hear was Patrick moaning out my name. “Fuck, oh fuck, baby.”

I felt him rocking and pounding
me. The combination of the two points of stimulation was like being on crack cocaine. Between the vibrator on my clit and Patrick’s cock inside of me I was dragged over the edge, pure sexual energy tearing through my body like a riptide in the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced. Patrick slammed into me one last time and his body shuddered as he came fast and hard, and he shouted out, “Oh fuck.”

He collapsed on the bed
next to me and pushed his hand through his hair, “Oh my fucking god.”

The sound of the vibrator was still going a
s he lay on his back, catching his breath. I sat up on my elbows and looked at it, giggling. “Turn that darn thing off.”

“Woo.
” He exhaled loudly. “That was fantastic.”

I fell back and wiggled into his arms. “That
thing
is fantastic. What a ride.

I caught Patrick gazing at the unused toys. “You know, honey. I don’t think we are
done yet.”

“Don’t you need a break? I mean, that was pretty wild.”

He smiled and our eyes locked as our breathing came in unison. “This is Vegas, baby. No time for resting.” He rolled over and cupped my breast, slipping it in his mouth. His tongue, licking like a hurricane and flicking my nipple like it was my clit, rocketed a tingle down to my crotch. In an instant I was once again going full speed on the magic train.

He held my hips and propped me up on my knees for doggy style in one swift jerk. My juices were dripping down my leg
s and I groaned in anticipation. I felt his cock getting hard again, rubbing against my backside as he ripped open another package. I kept my head down on the bed holding a pillow, my long hair pooled around me. I waited to feel him slam into me from behind, filling me deeply with every inch but nothing happened. Instead I heard more noises as he opened a tube of lubricant, another sample from the mistaken suitcase of pleasure.

“Hold on
, we’re gonna make it nice and slippery, don’t worry.”

I felt something cold and slick circling the opening
of my butt hole.
The damn butt plug. He’s trying the butt plug on me.

“We’ll go easy.”

He rubbed, twirling it around the edge and slipped the tip in slightly. With the fingers of his other hand he ran his fingers from the back to the front and fondled my clit. I gasped at his touch and focused on the pleasure.

“Just relax, baby. Let go and give in to it.”

He pressed it in further, swirling and massaging as he went, and stimulating my clit as he worked the sex toy in further.

“There you go. Does that feel good?” His voice was low and a roll of heat riveted my body. “I’m getting it ready for me. Let me have you this way
, baby.”

I closed my eyes and fell into the stream of pleasure waves that rushed through my body not even noticing that he had slipped out the toy and was pressing the tip of his hard cock into my asshole. I didn’t
say anything. I was lost in a tantalizing pleasure of ecstasy. He could have done anything with me at that point and I wouldn’t mind. I was his; any way he wanted to take me.

He moaned with satisfaction as he pushed in gently but firmly, rock
ing into me and moaning again. He grunted behind me and just when he was almost ready to come he reached again to my clit and pushed me over the edge of my orgasm first. He pulled out of my asshole and slammed his cock into my dripping opening, fucking me hard and fast, shouting out my name as he reveled in the satisfaction of his new conquest. He shuddered hard and collapsed next to me on the bed, pushing me down as he went. I snuggled into his arms and we laid there waiting for our breathing to slow.

I traced a finger across his chest. He lay with his eyes closed and a huge smile on his face. I giggled and said, “What?”

“Nothing,” he snickered. He opened one eye and said, “Just you. You’re fantastic.”

I wiggled in against him knowing what he mean
t and gave a low sneaky laugh. “You’re the only one…I mean, you’re the only one I have ever let do that to me.”

He rose up a little and looked at me with that same
big smile that wouldn’t quit. “You make me so happy…and not because of what we just did.”

I swatted his a
rm. “Yeah right, are you sure that had nothing to do with it?” We both laughed. He lay back down and pulled me closer to his heart. I shoved all the sex toys off of the bed, and we snuggled together, pressing our bodies into the soft pillow top of the mattress, creating our own little nest. The sex toys were fun, but we didn’t really need them. Patrick was the perfect lover and I drifted off to sleep feeling happy and satisfied that I had pleased him tonight, in a very special way. I had never trusted anyone as much as I did him. For Patrick, I was able to open up and feel free enough to give him something I had never given to any other man.

A
black stretch limo, boasting chrome detailing, pulled up in front of The Bellagio. The chauffeur opened the door for us and Patrick and I slid into the backseat of our luxurious transportation. After three days of fun in Las Vegas, we were finally going about the business we came here for; getting a closer look of the marriage documents that were filed here eight years ago when Stephanie and Patrick were—oh God, I hated to even say the words in my mind—married. It had really put me in a tail spin when I heard those words coming out of Stephanie’s mouth at my rehearsal dinner. I had hoped against all odds that it was a lie, but it had proved to be right. Now we were on our way to meet Ryan at the records department and Patrick had reassured me that somehow we would find a way to fix this whole mess.

We were still in the limo when Ryan texted
to say he had landed, was already in a cab and would meet us at the Records Department of Clark County. The municipal building was located in downtown Las Vegas.

I rel
axed back into the leather seat and snuggled up against Patrick’s arm. The last couple of days had been tremendous fun. My suitcase finally showed up after two days. Even though it was nice to get my stuff back, I hadn’t minded being without it much. It was a great excuse for Patrick to spoil me with new clothes and shoes. A woman can never have too many shoes.

Las Vegas was indeed like Disney
land for grown-ups. We had seen two breathtaking Cirque De Sole shows, indulged in some of the best meals I had ever tasted and even enjoyed a couple of afternoons of pampering in the spa at The Bellagio, all of it compliments of the hotel itself.

A
fter winning big the first night, Patrick received a call from the casino host. Because of our high stakes gambling we were now considered VIP players. They generously offered to upgrade us to a better suite, gave us tickets for whatever shows we wanted to see and free meals at any restaurant we desired...for the remainder of our trip. The only condition was that we were required do our gambling at The Bellagio. Since Patrick had wanted to keep gambling anyway, he graciously accepted. It seemed ironic, at best. When a person has money, the free benefits flow like water, yet when they are pinching every penny, they get nothing. Life is certainly not fair, but I would be a liar if I said I didn’t enjoy the freebies.

As a matter of fact, our luck had continued at the tables all weekend. By the end of out last hand on Sunday night, w
e were up more than one hundred thousand dollars; an incredible amount to me, but it was all due to Patrick’s expertise at Blackjack and, of course, a little bit of good old fashioned luck. At one point we had been up almost two hundred thousand dollars but lost half of it by the time we finished. Playing with colorful chips instead of money made the amounts seem unreal, almost like it was Monopoly money. It wasn’t until we had cashed out I realized how much money it actually was. To complete our real Vegas experience, Patrick had insisted that we cashed out in hundred dollars bills instead of a cashier’s check. We took the money to our suite to not only count them all, but also throw them in the air while sitting on the bed. It was silly but oh-so-much fun.

We were almost at our destination.
I looked out the window and minutes later we pulled up in front of a gray concrete building. It was probably a good thing that this was our last day here. Every lucky streak has to end eventually but sitting here in the limo, I prayed that it would last just one more day and our visit to the records office would be just as fruitful as the casino tables had turned out to be.

Patrick held out h
is hand for me to exit the limo. I saw no sign of Ryan; I had anticipated seeing him leaning leisurely against one of the smooth stone walls as I scanned the open area in the front of the building.

I opened my mouth to speak but before the words came out Patrick said, “
He’s probably already inside.” With a sense of urgency he ushered me across the open plaza area and up the concrete stairs.

The minute we stepped across the threshold we bumped into the end of a long line of people waiting
for their turn at the windows. A waving hand shot up above everyone’s heads and we cut to where Ryan was standing in line.

“Go
od thing I came early,” he said. “The line is huge now.”

Patrick
gave a quick nod and spoke in a somber voice. “How was your trip?”

“
Good. How about you guys? Having any luck in Vegas?”

“
I’ll say,” I said with a grin. Ryan raised his brows.

“No way.
So lady luck is on your side. How much have you won?”

“
Well, let’s just say a lot.” I shot a glance to Patrick with a big smile. “Everything in Vegas is so outrageous. It’s like an adult Disneyland, on steroids. I honestly can’t think of one thing that is not available in this town. They even have their own Eiffel Tower.”

“Yeah, but that’s nothing comp
ared to the real one,” Ryan said with a wink.

“Not even close,” I admitted.

As we talked, the line got shorter and soon we were in front of a Plexiglas window with a drab looking woman sitting behind a counter. For all the glitter of The Strip, the real citizens of Las Vegas were more down home and country than I had imagined.

“What can I help you folks with? Getting married?” she
asked.

Patrick cleared his voice, “
No…I mean, yes, but not today. I’m here to see the records of a marriage that was recorded at this office about eight years ago.”

Patrick gave her the information needed and
, with the twirl of her finger on the ball of her ergonomic mouse, she retrieved the records on her computer.

“Is it possible to get a copy of the
original record and marriage license?” Patrick asked.”

“Of course.
That’ll be fifteen dollars,” she said.

As Patrick dug out his wallet to pay, the woma
n noticed me peering into her glass cave, looking at her special computer mouse. Her eyes caught mine and she said, “It’s so I don’t get the carpal tunnel in my wrist.”

I gave her a weak smile and moved away from the window biting my lip.
I could only imagine what kind of crazy stuff she must have seen over the years, working at a place like this.

“It will take about half a
n hour. You can wait over there,” she said, tipping her head in the direction of a waiting area. Her hand never let go of the red roller ball, as if it were some kind of illusionary shackle that bound her at the wrist to her prison of a job.

Finally, after
waiting almost an hour, we had the papers in hand. Patrick quickly skimmed them. “Everything looks legit,” he said, dejected. “Nothing much here, except I don’t remember signing with a signature like that.” He pointed to his signature. “I never sign my name like that.”

Ryan rubbed
the day old stubble on his chin. “Well, you were pretty drunk that night. Totally hammered, actually. You could have done it in a drunken stupor. It doesn’t really prove anything.”

“
Yeah, I guess…so now what?” Patrick dropped the document to his lap, still clutching it with knotted fists.

Ryan grabb
ed the document out of Patrick’s hand and studied it for a few seconds. “It says that the wedding took place at Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel.” He squinted up at Patrick. “Does that ring a bell? Do you remember anything about the chapel?”

Patrick hung his head and didn’t answer.

“I say we drive over to this place and see what we can find.”

No one could come up with any better ideas
, so minutes later the three of us were riding in the limo towards the wedding chapel.

“
What do you hope to find there, Ryan?” I asked.

He
shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, but maybe there’s something in their records that wasn’t recorded in the official file. Also, I want to see who the witnesses were. I know that I certainly wasn’t one. And by the way, buddy,” Ryan reached over and gave a friendly punch to Patrick’s upper arm. “Thanks a lot for not having me be your best man,” Ryan teased.

The traffic was light and it only took us ten minutes to get there.
Patrick told the driver of our limo to wait and we stepped into a small crowded reception area of a typical small Vegas style wedding chapel. Monday must have been a popular day to get married in Las Vegas; there were at least thirty people huddled together in the small space, looking nervous yet happy, waiting for their magic moment to say, “I do.” Las Vegas was certainly the number one destination to get married in a hurry.

I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help but look on with
a touch of envy at a young girl, dressed in a short white satin dress, holding a bouquet of pink roses. She looked so happy; she was beaming. That should have been me a week ago.

Patrick pushed through the group and
finally managed to get the attention of one of the receptionists. “Hi, my name is Patrick Collins and apparently I was married here eight years ago. I would very much like to see the files you have on my wedding, if possible.”

The receptionist
was a young, good looking guy. He didn’t blink and began searching the data files on his computer, like this sort of thing happened all the time. “What was the name of the bride?”

“Stephanie
Patterson.”

He nodded.
“Yes, the ceremony was performed here by Reverend Johnson. Would you like to see a copy of the book?”

“The book?”
Patrick asked with surprise.

“Yes, we always have the couple sign our guest book. Let me see if I can find the one from eight years ago.” He went into the back room and a minute later he
returned carrying a large, heavy looking book.

“Let’s see…August
15, 2006. Here you are, Patrick Collins and Stephanie Patterson.” He turned the book around and slid it across the counter top to Patrick.

“God damn.
There’s that signature again. I swear I’ve never signed my name like that.”

Ryan nodded. “I believe you, but
like I said before, it doesn’t prove a thing except the fact that you were very drunk. I mean, we can confront Stephanie and show it to her but what good will that do? She’ll just say you were sloppy and in a hurry to get married.”

Patrick
shrugged in resignation and I was silent and defeated. We were getting nowhere. I was tired and my feet were sore. The late night partying in Vegas was wearing me out. I slumped down, sinking deep into the comfy red velvet couch in the front lobby of the wedding chapel. On the wall in front of me was a large flat screen TV showing a video recording of one of the weddings performed there. I picked up a brochure about the wedding chapel and noticed that all the ceremonies were video recorded and made available for sale, to seal the blissful moment in eternity for the happy couple—for a nominal fee, of course.

Suddenly it hit me. I
launched off the couch and shouted, “The wedding video!”

Patrick and Ryan
stared at me, baffled. I pointed to the screen. “The wedding video. Maybe there’s a recording of the wedding.”

“Chloe, you
’re a genius.” Patrick jumped up and took my face in both hands, planting a big kiss on my lips. He returned to the receptionist. “Do you video tape all of the weddings here?”

“Ye
s, but we usually only keep them for three months then we erase them from our server to make space for new videos, so I am afraid that your wedding is no longer available…that is unless…”

“Unless what?” I could tell Patrick was eager.

“Unless the recording was done on VHS. 2006 was right about the time we switched to digital. Let me check.”

He disappeared
into the back room again. It felt like forever but in a couple of minutes he was back. He was empty handed and gave us a sad smile. “Sorry, the wedding
was
taped on VHS, but we no longer have it. We threw out most of our old tapes. Took up too much storage, you know.”

Damn, a
nother disappointment.
We just couldn’t catch a break. Assailed by a bitter sense of defeat I flopped back down even deeper into the couch. That’s when Ryan got up. “I have an idea. This might work. Patrick, are you absolutely sure this is not your signature?”

“Absolutely.
I have never in my life signed my name like that.” He pressed a finger hard into the counterfeit signature in the guestbook.

With a slow, secret smile
Ryan turned to the receptionist. “Can I buy one of your old VHS tape from one of the weddings?”

He chuckled.
“You can have one. Free of charge. Like I said, they take up way too much space. Let me go get you one.”

“If you have one with
Reverend Johnson, that would be great,” Ryan asked as the receptionist turned to go to the back room one more time. Poor guy, we were running him ragged with our requests. I leafed through the brochure on the counter as we waited, showing wedding cakes and flowers that could be purchased on the spot at the chapel. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long now before my turn to walk down the aisle. I couldn’t help but wonder what Ryan had up his sleeve this time.