The moment I opened my eyes, the first thing I felt was the heat.
Not the kind that burns, but the kind that presses along your pussy, soft and heavy and against your tender skin.
My head throbbed, and my mouth was a mixture of alcohol and vomit. I guess I might have thrown up on the floor, I didn't know. I couldn't even tell if it's morning or midnight. But I knew it was somewhere close.
I blinked into light. The ceiling above me was white and high, and for a second I thought I was still in the bar, until my eyes adjusted to the edges of a chandelier, glass and gold, like ice melted into shape.
Where am I?
The sheets under me were so cool, too soft to belong to me. I shifted slightly, only to see someone and the sound of my own breath filled the silence. My pulse jumped. I was not alone.
He sat on a chair near the window in the same position the man from the bar sat - The one with eyes that didn't look away even when I wanted them to. He wasn't not watching me now, he was watching the skyline. His suit jacket was off, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The city light cut across his face, drawing half of him in silver, the other in shadow.
A glass of water sat closeby on the table beside the bed. Next to it was my purse. My phone. Everything neat, untouched.
"Where… where am I?" My voice came out hoarse.
He looked over his shoulder, just once. "Safe."
Safe. The word sounded too big in the quiet.
I pushed myself up slowly, my head spinning. "Did you….?" I couldn't even finish the question.
"No," he said, tone clipped but steady. "You passed out at the bar. I brought you here. You needed somewhere to sober up."
I nodded, embarrassed. My cheeks burned hotter. My dress was still on, wrinkled but zipped. My heels were scattered on the floor. Nothing happened. I should feel relieved.
But I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want anything to happen.
There was something in the way he looked at me. It wasn't tender, nor was it cruel. It was the type that pulled at the air between us.
"I didn't ask for help," I whispered.
He stood. Slow. Controlled. The kind of movement that felt dangerous without needing to be. "No," he agreed. "You didn't."
He stepped closer, stopping just a few feet away - close enough that I could see the faint scar near his jaw, and the slow rise of his chest. Heat pulled instantly at my chest.
"Why did you bring me here, then?"
"Because you looked like you were about to fall apart." His eyes dropped to the crack between my breasts, and the smooth skin of my lap that was showing outside the duvet. "And let's just say….. I don't like watching people fall."
The room felt suddenly charged with undeniable desire. The sound of the city fading behind the thick glass. All that's left was the sound of my pulse in my ears.
I should say something. Maybe a thank you, or even a sorry. But the words got lost somewhere behind the tightness in my throat.
He studied me like he's searching for something beneath my skin. "You should rest," he said finally.
I shook my head. "I don't want to rest". I said that. Wondering where I got the courage from. Maybe it was still the alcohol talking. Yes I'll blame it on the alcohol. Because a normal Lana would never...
His brow lifted slightly. "Why not?"
Because if I close my eyes, I'll see everything I've been trying to forget. The video, the laughter, the betrayal. The way my life ended in the span of a few seconds on someone else's phone.
Instead, I looked at him. "I just need to feel something that isn't pain. I want you."
That got his attention. His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek flexing. "You're drunk."
"Maybe," I admitted, voice low. "But not enough to lie."
He took another step, and the scent of him hit me hard. Something expensive, cold, like cedar mixed with smoke. I almost choked.
"Go to sleep, Lana," he said, softer now.
But I can't. And something in me, raw and reckless, reached for his collar pulling him closer to me. The space between us became a single heartbeat. He caught my wrist before I could pull him even more closer.
"Don't…." His voice dropped, rough with warning. I could hear the raw desire laced in every alphabet.
Maybe I should pull away. But I don't. I looked up at him, and for a second, I see it… the thing he has been trying to hide. The restraint. The want. I could see the massive curve of his dick straining hard against his pants.
That was just the reassurance I needed, that he wanted it too.
"I'm fine," I whispered. "I want to be fucked. And by you. "
He closed his eyes for half a second, as if he's fighting a war no one else could see. When he opened them again, they were darker.
"Lana."
The way he said my name didn't sound like control anymore. It sounded like surrender.
Then he pulled up and pushed against the wall with a force to keep me steady.
A hint of fire returned to his voice as he spoke. "You ask for a lot little girl…" his hot breath fanned across my nose with his left hand still pinning my wrists to the wall above.
"But not today…" his leg pushed between my legs nudging them apart. His breath fanned against my face again, every touch of the hot air made my nipples even more hard. "Soon I will. And when I do….."
He trailed his fingers up my inner thigh in a lazy caress. While his cock strained against his zipper, begging for attention, but he ignored it.
My teeth sank into my bottom lip. Lust and defiance battled for dominance in his eyes. "I'd make sure you cry so hard from pleasure, you'll feel like you're being torn apart."
Then his fingers brushed against my drenched silk.
I grasped his shoulders, so tight not even caring if my nails dug into his back when he slid my underwear aside and rubbed his thumb over her swollen clit.
My body jerked. Small trembles running through me while my teeth kept digging deeper into my lip.
"Fuck…" he inhaled. "You're dripping all over my hand." He kept his
thumb on my clit while he slipped a finger inside me.
Then he slid another inside, filling me. Stretching me. Stroking and
curling until he hit my most sensitive spot.
The trembles gave way to a full-body shudder. I started feeling beads of sweat forming on my forehead, but he still remained stubbornly inside me.
Letting me slowly ride the wave.
He slowly withdrew both fingers, then thrust them inside me again.
I gasped and shudded again.
He pressed the heel of his palm against my clit until a gasping moan
broke free without me even knowing. I bucked against his hand, forcing me deeper.
"That's it." His velvety murmur glided between us. "Give into it,
sweetheart. Let me feel you come all over my hand."
"Fuckkkk." I screamed, my voice went higher than normal.
He let out a soft laugh. "That's the idea baby girl. Scream. Scream for me."
I put up a good fight, but my resistance gradually melted and I clutched his shoulders again harder this time, grinding shamelessly against his hand.
I felt him increase his pace. My quite moans and pants mingling with the slick sounds of his fingers fucking my pussy, and soon, his fingers were soaked with my juices.
He didn't let me touch his cock even though it was so fucking hard it looked like it ached.
Only then did he withdraw my hand while I slumped against his body as darkness took over.