Vegas Revenge Wedding (Nevada Bad Boys 2)

Fuck being responsible, right?

My dream was to retire to a nice cabin in the woods and live off the land. Her dream was to build a mansion and hire people to do everything for her—just like she had growing up. The company I was working for required a lot of extra time and she hated that, until it took off and my stocks were worth more than her Daddy’s fortune.

She hit me with the divorce papers the minute I told her I wasn’t interested in building her dream house because I didn’t want to waste money when we had all we needed in our tiny two-bedroom home. Fifty percent wasn’t enough to break my wallet, but it was enough to break my spirit. It crushed every bit of trust I had for members of the opposite sex.

A few months later I saw her out with another man—a man I once called a friend—and I lost it. My ex-wife and I started yelling at each other in the middle of the restaurant, laying out everything we hated about each other. Somewhere in there, she confessed she had been sleeping with him during our marriage. All I could see was red. I took a swing at him and while I connected with his jaw, he acted like I had just broke his neck. He played it up like a bitch, falling on the floor, wailing, and when the doctors got done with him, he had conditions I had never heard of. It was bad enough that I lost my cool and punched him—I found I didn’t like that side of myself, with rage and jealousy coming out in the form of a monster who lost control.

When my lawyer started talking legitimate jail time, over a punch that barely connected, I knew I was about to be railroaded by a system I didn’t trust. I packed everything in the back of my truck and left. As much as they might have wanted to prosecute me, they weren’t going to chase me across the country for an assault charge when the case was shit to begin with.

“Fuck people...” I muttered as I stared at the burning tip of my cigar.

I didn’t like thinking about that shit. I was happy in my new life. I retired early and my dream came true. I was living off the land and didn’t have to worry about anything. I pushed the anger of my ex-wife’s betrayal out of my head and started thinking about the blonde goddess I saw on the road. I might not be able to fuck her, but I could do a lot of things to her in my head.

My hand slid down to my cock and I caressed it through my jeans. It was more than ready for a little bit of fun. I slid my boots off and then tossed my clothes on the floor by the fire. They would be nice and toasty if I got cold again.

I took another sip of my whiskey and caught a glimpse of my naked body in a mirror. Six years in the mountains had transformed my body. I was no longer thin and athletic. My muscles had grown and hardened over the years, especially my upper torso. As well defined as they were, there was one muscle that needed a real workout, so I sat down in the chair and let my cigar rest in my lips.

I knew it wasn’t going to be a marathon when I wrapped my hand around my cock. The sensitivity reminded me of my teenage years when I barely had to touch it to get off.

“Damn that feels good...” I muttered as I gave myself a few strokes.

I always preferred the real thing over jacking off, but I had to do it from time to time just to keep myself from going insane. Even after six years alone, it still didn’t make me cum like a nice tight pussy, but it was enough when I thought about the baggage that came with an actual relationship.

Just a quick release—then I can drink in peace.

I puffed on my cigar, stroking my cock with my eyes closed. The image of the blonde goddess filled my thoughts and I imagined her there in front of me, ready and willing to bend both knees and wrap those gorgeous lips around throbbing cock. That would just be the beginning, of course, because I would fuck her like she had never been fucked before.

Every hole. All mine.

It was nice to have a face to go with my fantasy for a change. Normally it was just a faceless wonder with big tits, a nice ass, and a soft mouth. I hated that I hadn’t seen the blonde goddess’s eyes; I would have loved to know what shade of perfect I would have been staring into when I made her cum.

I lasted longer than I thought I would, but there wasn’t much build. When it was ready, the pre-cum was already erupting so I had to quickly grab a towel for the finish. It was a lot of cum. The reserves hadn’t been emptied in a while. I stared at the mess and sighed at the sight of it on the towel when it could have been inside of someone who would have enjoyed it.

“Oh man...” I shook my head. “What a waste.”

I continued drinking and enjoying my cigar until the latter was burned out and the former needed a refill. I flipped on the television and surfed the channels, finding the weatherman rapidly filling the audience in on how off his prediction was. It was going to be a real storm after all—even he had to admit his fucking mistake.

I went back to my chair and watched for a little while longer before deciding it was time to retire for the evening. I filled the fireplace up with enough wood to last the night and walked into the bedroom, feeling a heaviness in my eyelids as I stared at the bed. As much as I liked the peace and quiet, there was something about the city I missed, and that was the dull roar when I went to sleep.

I could go all day without hearing a single sound except nature’s song, but when it was time to sleep, I would roll around for hours if I didn’t have something in the background. I flipped on the radio and climbed into bed. It would give me enough meaningless noise to go to sleep. It took one hell of an antenna pyramid to get good stations, but it was worth the cost. I felt my eyelids growing heavier and heavier as the music played, and then a commercial came on, followed by some local news.

“Authorities are still searching for missing nineteen-year-old Heather Westbrook. The Tennessee native was supposed to be meeting friends at a cabin near Lake Rutherford, but she never arrived. Authorities are asking everyone in the area to be on the lookout for a 2014 burgundy Volvo with Tennessee plates... Ms. Westbrook is 5’6 with blonde hair and green eyes...”

“Wait a second...” My eyes opened.

Every bit of progress I had made towards falling asleep evaporated in an instant. I thought back to the car I saw and the blonde goddess driving it. I called it red, but perhaps it was burgundy. I didn’t pay attention to the license plate, but there was an orange T in the corner of the back window.

Fuck. It was a University of Tennessee logo.

If she was headed towards Lake Rutherford, she was way off course. There was no way they would go looking for her as far out as Wolf Creek and they certainly wouldn’t check Devil’s Pass. As much as I wanted to just ignore the news and go back to sleep, I couldn’t. I was probably the only

one who knew where she was.

Not my problem. Not my—ugh.

I thought about calling it in, but I was a lot closer than the sheriff to Devil’s Pass. If her car broke down, she was likely going to freeze to death. It really wasn’t my problem, but I couldn’t just go back to sleep and ignore it. I got dressed and bundled up in my coat before tossing a couple of gas cans in the back of my truck.

The snow tires were going to get used a lot quicker than I had planned. My truck moved down the mountain at a crawl until I reached the flat part of the road. Snow was already accumulating and it wasn’t an easy drive. Devil’s Pass was going to be even worse if she had put some miles on her tires without turning around.