A groan slipped past Ashley's lips before he was even fully awake. His head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, the kind that came after too much cheap wine.
But he hadn't been drinking. Had he?
The first thing he registered was the cold and his skin felt dry. He tried to pull a blanket up, his hand fumbling against fabric that was too smooth, too cool.
It was Silk.
This wasn't his apartment.
His eyes snapped open. He was in a very big luxurious room that swallowed the morning light. Towering cuttains with high ceiling, a massive desk stood on another, and the floor was covered by a plush rug so deep his toes would disappear in it. It looked less like a bedroom and more like a ridiculously expensive hotel suite designed to look like one meant for billionaires.
Ashley pushed himself up, the silk sheet pooling around his waist, and that's when the second thing registered,
he was completely naked!!!.
A flush crept up his neck. He quickly scanned the room, his heart hammering against his ribs.
It was empty.
He was alone. But he hadn't been.
The evidence was written all over his body. Faint bruises decorated his collarbones, and a dry stickiness between his thighs.
He twisted, trying to look over his shoulder, and a sharp, stinging pain shot through his backside, making him hiss.
He couldn't see it properly, but he could feel it. His skin was tender and marked. He couldn't even remember the man's name. Could he even remember the man's face even?.
It was a complete blank. How did he get here?, Who had he been with?.
The scent of sex was everywhere, in his hair and lingering in the steam-filled air. It was a musky, masculine scent, mingled with his own.
A silly smile quickly spread across his face, chasing away the anxiety.
He didn't care.
After twenty three years of being pathetically, hopelessly untouched, he had finally done it. And judging by the nature of this room, it was with someone rich. Very rich.
He'd hit the jackpot on his first try.
The giddy feeling made dizzy washed over him. He'd always worried his first time would be awkward and fumbling in a party's toilet. Instead, he got five-star luxury.
He chuckled, the sound foreign in the quiet room.
"Good for you, Ash," he whispered to himself.
"You finally got laid."
Ashley's body was so pale that it made his skin too tight. He swung his legs over the side of the massive bed which he now realized was too high from the rug and then stood up.
Well bad idea.
His legs trembled like a newborn's, and every muscle in his lower body screamed in protest.
The man had been so thorough. It might even be a beast, what the hell!!.
Ashley shuffled toward a door he prayed led to a bathroom, his steps quick but careful. The soreness was one thing, but the distinct ache in his ass was another.
It felt like the man had literally tried to dig something out of him.
The thought should have been terrifying, but instead, it sent a forbidden thrill through him. Someone had wanted to possess him.
He blushed hard.
He found the bathroom, and it was just as extra-extra as the main room. Black marble from floor to ceiling, a rainfall shower head the size of a dinner plate, and an array of soaps and shampoos in sleek, minimalist bottles. He turned the water on, letting it get punishingly hot before stepping under the spray.
The water fell over his skin cleansing him of every impurity, and he finally got a better look at the damage.
His hips were adorned with the dark, distinct imprints of fingers, a perfect grip on each side. The marks on his ass were even more shocking. A cluster of deep, angry-red bites, overlapping in a pattern that was almost deliberate. It wasn't just a love bite, it was more of a brand.
Just like the glaring bite mark on his neck.
"Wow," he breathed out, a mix of awe and trepidation in his voice.
'The man was a man'
He washed himself slowly, carefully, hissing every time his fingers brushed over the bruises and a particularly tender spot.
Intoxicating.
The smell of a night he couldn't remember but his body couldn't forget.
After the shower, wrapped in a towel so plush it felt like a hug, he padded back into the main room. His clothes were in a heap on the floor, looking like they'd lost a fight with a wild animal.
His shirt's buttons were all over the floor but thankfully his trousers were still intact, but they'd been discarded with a haste that spoke volumes.
He needed to get out of there. As grateful as he was for the experience, he couldn't afford the bill for a place like this. He'd be paying it off for the next decade.
His eyes landed on a tall, freestanding wardrobe made of the same dark wood as the desk. 'Why is there a wardrobe in a hotel room?' he wondered. 'Are guests just allowed to use it or what?' It seemed too personal for a space like this.
Shaking his head, he decided not to question it since he's never been to a hotel room.
Find his wallet, find his phone, and make a run for it. That was the plan. He had to leave before he was charged for overstaying.
He took a step toward his ruined clothes, his mind racing. He needed to piece something together. What was the last thing he remembered?
Before he could do another thing, the world tilted under his feet. He saw it, felt it, as if it were happening all over again.
A motorcycle, sleek and black, tearing down the street directly at him. He wasn't given a chance to dodge. It hit him with a bone shattering force, the first time he'd felt such.
The throbbing pain knocked him out, that his legs gave out from under him. He dropped to the plush rug with a heavy, boneless thud, the world spinning back into focus just as his vision began to fade to black.