She doesn't remember getting married. Why?
Sophia went to Las Vegas only to drink her pain away. Little did she imagine, she would end up becoming someone's wife. But who’s the lucky guy?
Who knows?
Even she doesn't remember. She was fucking intoxicated!
All she has is a marriage contract with an expiry date and a bank balance big enough to pop her eyes out.
Contractual terms:
1. Do not marry anyone else unless I permit you.
2. Try not to whore around. Your mother-in-law wouldn't be happy.
3. If I request a live-in relationship. You have to comply.
4. Sex is optional.
5. Contract Termination? Sorry Honey... In my family, couples don’t divorce.
PS: I was kidding. Let's catch-up after three years to end this shit and get more money.
If there are rules against having sex while drunk, there should be rules against getting married while drunk too.
Because THIS isn't fair!

Playboy's Secret Wife

I hastily wear my blouse and skirt and wince at realization I don’t have any fucking panties. I grab the corset and open the door to walk outside, while cool air brushes my bare ass.


I could totally throttle him right now. I can’t believe I thought we had chemistry.


I pass through the hallways we passed before, while kissing and groping each other. Some scenes in playrooms are still going on. I pause to think. Would I like to come back here again? I left the checklist folder on the bed in spite.


“Fuck,” I mutter. Too bad I liked this place.


“Miss Brown!” a voice calls me out and I turn to see a waitress. No, the outfit is too sexy to be a waitress. Or maybe a girl doing a waitress roleplay? She is holding a tray, with some food and a bottle, in her hands. The fragrance of food makes my stomach growl.


“Master Miller ordered some food for you, but your door was locked.”


Chapter 37 BDSM Checklist