The Sudden Marriage and First Intercourse

"Girl, we understand you are mourning your relationship with Vance, but it has been two weeks already. You need to pick yourself up and ride the next available horse." Gemma crossed her arms, standing firmly over the living room couch.

Brooke nodded in agreement from the doorway. "Yeah, she is right. That dude does not deserve your tears."

Sloane Kensington sat in the middle of her apartment, weeping uncontrollably. Tears tracked steadily down her porcelain cheeks. She pulled a thick blanket up to her chin, clutching a half-eaten carton of vanilla ice cream. It had been exactly fourteen days since Vance shattered her world with a single, soul-crushing text message.

*This is not working anymore. I think we've made a mistake. Let's break up.*

The message was brutally brief. He sent it a mere fourteen days before they were supposed to walk down the aisle. No phone call. No face-to-face conversation. Just a few cowardly words typed on a screen.

"This sucks," Sloane sobbed, wiping her face with a soggy, crumpled tissue. "What kind of coward breaks up with someone without giving them a genuine explanation? Vance is scum. I wish I never have to lay eyes on him again."

Gemma sighed and began snatching up the wet tissues scattered across the coffee table. "Okay, girls, it is time for a forceful intervention. We are getting you cleaned up. We are going to have fun tonight until you forget that scum ever existed."

"Yeah, LoLo," Brooke chimed in, a grin breaking across her face. "Your favorite DJ is playing at the Neon Lounge tonight. How about we go there?"

"No." Sloane shook her head stubbornly, shrinking back into the cushions. "I just want to watch my sad movies with my delicious snacks and cry my lungs out until I pass out."

Gemma planted her hands on her hips, refusing to let her best friend wallow in this pathetic cycle. "You have been doing that for the past two weeks. It is enough. If you do not get up in three seconds, I will physically drag you into the bathtub myself."

Realizing they meant every word, Sloane finally surrendered. An hour later, she was heavily dolled up. She reluctantly stepped out of her apartment, climbing into a waiting cab with Brooke and Gemma, who were already in high spirits.

The vibrant, pulsating atmosphere of the Neon Lounge hit them the second they walked through the front doors. There was no line outside, allowing them to slip straight into the club. They headed right to the bar, ordering their favorite cocktails and twelve shots of liquor to kick off the night. Down went the shots, followed by cheers and laughter. The drinks flowed freely, successfully lifting Sloane's crushed spirits.

As the night deepened, the club slowly filled with a massive crowd. People pushed past their booth, the loud bass thumping against the floorboards. Sloane sat with her friends amidst the chaotic chatter and flashing strobe lights. She casually glanced toward the entrance just as three men walked in.

Sloane accidentally locked eyes with the man in the center. He was incredibly handsome, radiating a cold, untouchable aura. For a brief moment of intense eye contact, their gazes held. Then, he averted his eyes, seamlessly slipping away and disappearing into a private VIP booth near the back of the room.

Brooke leaned over the table, following Sloane’s line of sight. "Don't even think about it, friend."

Sloane blinked. "Think about what?"

"That is Rowan Lancaster," Brooke warned strictly, her voice lowering over the heavy music. "He is the aloof and impossibly wealthy scion of the Lancaster family. Men like him are only to be admired from a safe distance."

Sloane laughed off the warning, shaking her head disapprovingly. "You guys are sick. Who on earth said I want to be with him? Besides, my fragile heart is entirely broken. I have zero intention of toying with romance ever again."

Needing a distraction, Sloane stood up. "I am going to the bar to order a few drinks. Stay put."

She navigated through the tight crush of sweaty bodies. But as she neared the bar, her gaze drifted toward the dance floor, and her stomach violently plummeted.

It was Vance.

He was right there under the flashing lights, laughing and grinding intimately with a brand-new girl. The woman had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and Vance looked as if he was having the time of his life.

Physically sickened and emotionally overwhelmed by the sight of her ex moving on so quickly, a wave of panic gripped Sloane’s chest. Her night was completely ruined. She spun around, abandoning the bar, and immediately retreated to the outdoor smoking area to gasp for fresh air.

The patio was dim and quiet. She sank onto a wooden bench in miserable isolation, staring blindly at her manicured toes. Tomorrow was supposed to be their wedding day, yet Vance acted as if nothing had ever happened between them.

"Ahem."

A deep, resonant throat-clearing sound interrupted her thoughts.

Sloane looked up. A tall figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Do you like what you see, sweetheart?" a velvety voice asked.

It was Rowan Lancaster. He stood there, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

"Excuse me?" Sloane frowned, caught entirely off guard by his directness.

Rowan took a step closer. "You have been staring at me ever since I came into this club. And now you deliberately followed me outside. What is up?"

His blatant accusation sparked a sudden defensive pride in her chest. She scrambled for an excuse, stammering out a lie. "Sorry, but I paint, and I was merely seeking artistic inspiration. For your information, I did not follow you. I just saw my ex-fiancé inside, and I needed some fresh air."

She narrowed her eyes, boldly countering his claim. "In fact, I should be asking you the same question. I did not notice you when I came out here. Are you the one following me?"

Rowan pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He took a smooth drag, the cherry glowing bright red. "In your dreams, sweetheart. I am also here to clear my head."

As he exhaled a thin stream of smoke, Sloane found herself completely mesmerized by the sheer masculinity of his hands. His long, slender fingers held the cigarette with effortless grace. A reckless surge of alcohol-fueled courage washed over her.

Impulsively, she blurted out, "Do you mind dancing with me? Just one song."

Rowan stared at her. A slow smirk touched his lips. "Just one song."

He led her back inside, stepping onto the dance floor. That single song effortlessly melted into two, then three, until they had swayed together through five deeply romantic tracks. Their bodies pressed close, moving rhythmically to the music.

As they danced, Rowan leaned down. "Someone is watching us," he whispered into her ear. "There is a guy glaring at me with blatant, seething jealousy. Is that the ex you mentioned, sweetheart?"

Sloane turned her head slightly. She saw Vance staring a hole right through them, his face pale with anger.

"Yeah," Sloane softly confirmed. "That is Vance. The man I was supposed to marry tomorrow. I want to forget him entirely and start afresh."

Rowan’s eyes darkened. Seizing the opportunity, he gripped her hand tighter. "I sure can help you with that. Come with me."

He pulled her off the dance floor and straight into his exclusive VIP booth. Hidden from the crowd, the alcohol flowed continuously. They drank heavily together, downing glass after glass until midnight struck, leaving them both heavily intoxicated.

In their drunken state, the boundaries of logic blurred, and a wild, reckless plan took root.

Rowan leaned close, his breath smelling of premium liquor. "My powerful family has been incessantly nagging me. They want me to get married as soon as possible." He brushed his thumb along her jawline. "You said today was originally supposed to be your wedding day. Do you not think we are fated to be together?"

Sloane looked at him through a hazy blur and agreed.

Exactly four hours after their initial eye contact across the club, the two secretly slipped out of the Neon Lounge. They hired a cab and directed the driver to a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel. Under the cheap chapel lights, they stood side by side, officially exchanging vows and legally binding themselves as husband and wife.

Leaving the chapel, the newlywed couple immediately retreated to Rowan's luxurious ocean-view villa. The exact moment they crossed the threshold into the house, all remaining inhibitions evaporated.

The front door slammed shut. Rowan pushed her against the hallway wall, crashing his mouth down on hers. Clothes went flying aggressively across the hallway as they kissed their way deeper into the house. Soft music played in the background, guiding them all the way into the master bedroom.

Without any hesitation or gentle euphemisms, they stripped each other completely bare. Rowan yanked her dress down, directly exposing her breasts and vagina to the cool air of the bedroom. He immediately discarded his own clothes to reveal his fully erect penis.

They fell heavily onto the mattress together. Sloane parted her legs, and Rowan pushed inside her. Their bodies intertwined in raw, explicit sexual intercourse. His cock penetrated her pussy in deep, rhythmic thrusts. He drove into her over and over, merging their physical forms as one. The intense friction fueled their raw passion until they both climaxed intensely, crying out into the empty room.

The wild, reckless encounter entirely drained every single ounce of their physical energy. The moment the intense high faded, the alcohol dragged them under, and they passed out naked on the tangled sheets.