Page 13 of Tyrant

“Nah, I had a vasectomy. You’ll be fine.” I smirk as my cock throbs desperately, the sensation of her warm, wet core making it hard not to give in.

She nods as my mouth takes hers in a blistering kiss, my tongue toying with hers, mimicking my cock inside her pussy. It’s all she needs to set her off into her personal paradise. Her tight cunt grips me so harshly I’m afraid she’ll strangle my cock to death. After the first powerful squeeze, her cunt begins to milk my cock harder, faster, eagerly tugging at it like it needs my cum more than I do.

I’ll give it to her. Over and over. Until she’s so full of me, her stomach’s bloated from me filling her up.

Her orgasm forces my hold to absolve and then I’m spilling deep. I push into her as forcefully as I can. The head of my cock positioned as close to her cervix as possible, while I pour my cum inside her. Nirvana descends, my vision momentarily turning black as the strongest orgasm of my life slams into me. I nearly fall to my knees and I would if I weren’t holding her up.

“Fuck, that was so damn good,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her lips, then her forehead as I carefully settle her on her feet once more. “I didn’t hurt you?”

She shakes her head. “I enjoyed it. Every minute,” she promises, and my chest feels a little lighter for being selfish enough to take what I wanted right in the middle of the concert.

“Me too,” I agree. “Now what?” I’m not sure if she needs the bathroom or something else, and I’ll do whatever she wants after that.

“Now…I want shots. Lots of them and you’re joining me,” she declares, and I can’t help but laugh. If she wants to drink, we’ll get torn up and have the best fucking time. I’m not driving or riding, we’re walking. I’m big enough no one will fuck with her, so I’m confident we’re safe to have some fun and let our guard down some more.

When in Vegas, right? Maybe I don’t hate this place as much as I thought…

Chapter 9

Tyrant

Fuck. I’m hungover.

It’s the first thing that comes to mind as I become conscious to the outside world once more. I slept hard; I wasbasically dead to everything until now. Parting my lids is a feat all on its own. Thankfully, the curtains and the shade are still closed from yesterday, so it’s not too ungodly bright in the room. It’s dark, save for the light coming from the bathroom. The door’s shut, so it shines from the crack at the bottom near the floor. The only other light comes from under the bedroom door and it’s of the natural variety, so I’m guessing the adjacent living area’s curtains are wide open. It’ll probably hurt my head ambling out there, but maybe instead of going anywhere for a while, Blair will be good with calling up some room service. We can do dinner or something later if we’re both coherent enough to drag ourselves out of bed. We definitely can’t drink as much as we did last night, or I won’t be able to ride tomorrow. I doubt she will either.

I shift around, my head swimming in the process. Apparently, the pain meds I downed before I fell asleep weren’t strong enough. At least, I hope I was smart enough to remember to take them. I have no clue; I remember fuck all about last night. We went to the concert, we drank some, fucked, drank some more, danced around a bit. Which is nuts because I’m not a dancer on my good days and neither is Blair, so I can only imagine what two drunk fools looked like trying to tear it up to some metal music. After that, though, my mind goes fuzzy. I can’t believe I let myself get that sloshed. When was the last time it happened?

I was a teen? I think? Fuck. It hurts to use my brain.

Stretching out my arm, the bed feels cold in Blair’s spot. Poor woman. I feel like shit, so she must feel like death. I hope she hasn’t been sick all night with no one to help her while I’ve slept alone in the bed like a giant jackass. But I think we must’ve fucked some more because I’m not wearing any clothes, and if we hadn’t fucked again, I probably would’ve passed out on top of the covers in my clothes, too drunk and worn out to care.

I have to piss too. I do the gentlemanly thing and wait for her to come out. I’ll keep the bed warm for her so it’s toasty when she crawls under the covers.

I must doze off because the next time I wake up, my dick feels like it’s going to explode from needing to pee so badly. I hop up, groaning as I do. My head still pounds, but it’s not as horrible as it was the first time I woke up. It’s too dark to see if there’s anything on the nightstand as far as pain reliever goes, so I’ll deal with it after I relieve myself. “Blair,” I call out, and my voice escapes in a rasp. It’s deeper than usual, which tells me I was probably cheering about something, or maybe it’s from yelling over the loud music. “Sugar? I need to piss.”

I get no response, so I lean my head against the bathroom door, pressing my ear to it. I don’t want to rush her if she’s puking or something. “Sugar?” I mumble again and get nothing. “‘Kay, if you’re shitting, now’s the time to speak up because I’m fixin’ to open this door and check on you.”

Nothing.

I test the door handle, finding it unlocked. With a twist, I discover the bathroom empty. Well, hell, if I’d have known, I’d relieved myself earlier. I’m glad she’s not in here, though, as she must not be feeling too worse for wear. Maybe after I take some aspirin or something, and we eat, I can sink back into that perfect pussy of hers. It was pure heaven, and I’d love to get another feel for it as well as taste her until her voice is shot from screaming my name. Definitely later, the screaming my name part, that is.

I finish washing my hands, then my face, and use my cup from brushing my teeth to get some water. I leave the bathroom light on and head back into the room, searching around. There’s nothing on the nightstands but my phone. I remember the hotel adding some pain relievers in Blair’s bags they brought up, so I move to those next, rifling through the stuff all over the dresseruntil I find the tiny travel tube. I toss four back, two extras for good measure, and drink down the entire cup of water. I give myself about ten minutes to collect my thoughts, find my boxer briefs, drink more water, and finally make my way out into the common area. I can easily make out the couch from the doorway, finding it empty.

Glancing around as I step into the other room, there’s no sign of Blair anywhere. There’s a paper on the small table so I go to it, expecting a note telling me she’s getting coffee or at the pool soaking up the vitamin D.

I find nothing of the sort. Just a thicker piece of cardstock with decorative writing. In big, fancy letters along the top, it hasMarriage License. Then, lower it includes both of our names and is signed by witnesses. It’s even been notarized. This isn’t a form you fill out or whatever, it’s a goddamn license!

What in the fuck?

I don’t remember anything about a goddamn wedding, but apparently mine was last night. Or early this morning at two a.m. according to this. Holy fuck. Nah, this can’t be real.

“Blair?” I demand, louder, even though she’s obviously not in the room. She could be hiding under the bed, but she’s not weird like that, just quiet. Something compels me to glance down at my left hand, and sure as shit…there’s a band there. Chilling on my ring finger like it belongs there or some shit when it absolutely does not.

This fucking city, man. It’s all I can think as I shake my head and storm back into the bedroom. This time I flip on the lights. I make sure they’re all on and every surface is lit up. I search over everything, looking for what? I haven’t a clue, but I’m sure as fuck not missing anything after that doozy on the table. I begin to notice a pattern and not a good one. Little things here and there I remember Blair had in certain spots around the hotel room. I remember it because yesterday I was silently marvelingover how having her shit everywhere didn’t bother me. Not even a little bit. On the contrary, it sorta felt like it belonged there, and I was cool with it. My gaze slides over everything, realizing her bag is gone. I immediately head to my wallet. I thought I could trust her, but obviously, I was blinded to her being a female. I let down my guard in places I wouldn’t normally, especially not so quickly.

There’s very little cash in my wallet. As I start thumbing through the bills left, that I have situated in certain ways so I don’t get confused if I’m in a hurry and grab the wrong amount, I realize I have no idea how much I spent last night. I don’t think she’d take money from me, but it’s starting to hit me. I know virtually nothing about this woman. I have her name and the way her pussy felt wrapped around my cock last night to go off of. Part of me hopes she was smart enough to take at least a little cash. I don’t want her to go hungry or anything.

Striding back into the other room, I grab a Gatorade from the mini fridge, knowing the miniature sized red beverage is probably something ridiculous, like eight bucks. I’m too distracted to care at the moment as I go back to stare at the paper once more.

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