A stranger wrecked my pussy 1👅🍆

~~Maya~~

I was supposed to be across the country, wrapped up in crisp hotel sheets with my fiancé, Jeffrey.

But instead, I sat in a dimly lit bar, perched on a cold barstool, drowning heartbreak in overpriced liquor.

Why?

Because my precious fiancé, the man who promised me forever, had taken my best friend in my place on a business trip that was supposed to be for the both of us.

He fed me lies so smoothly I swallowed every single one. Said the business trip was too complicated and that he couldn’t take me with him after he had promised me about a month ago.

And I believed him.

Until she sent photos of both of them on the plane with their bodies pressed together. Her head was resting on his shoulder and their smiles were effortless.

But the final blow came when she pressed her lips on his.

And that bastard… kissed her back.

Like I didn’t exist. Like the ring on my finger meant nothing. Like our love had been nothing more than a convenient lie.

My chest had caved in so violently I could barely breathe.

Jeffrey was the one person I thought would never hurt me.

But staring at those photos, I realized the cruelest truth of all.

The man I once saw as my light had become the very darkness that was destroying me.

I had already cried myself at home until they were no tears left again.

I should’ve known. The signs had always been there, staring me right in the face while I played the blind, lovesick fool.

The way Jeffrey spoke softly about her. The way his eyes seemed to light up when he praised her. How he never missed a chance to remind me how kind she was, how lucky I was to have such a loyal friend.

But I ignored it.

Now, they were probably somewhere laughing about me, laughing at the pathetic woman too blinded by love.

The thought burned hotter than the tequila.

I grabbed the small glass in front of me, my fingers tightening around it before I threw it back in one harsh gulp. The liquor scorched its way down my throat, bitter and fiery.

I slammed the empty shot glass onto the bar.

“Another.”

My voice came out rough as I shoved the glass toward the bartender.

Tonight, I wanted oblivion.

I wanted to drown every memory of Jeffrey. Every lie. Every touch. Every promise.

For once in my miserable life, I didn’t want to be the obedient, polished woman he had molded me into.

All my life, I had bent and broken pieces of myself just to fit his version of perfect.

I stopped wearing the clothes I loved because he said they drew too much attention. Stopped talking to my friends because he claimed they were toxic, that their negativity would “infect” me.

And I listened.

Rose was the only friend he approved of.

He always said she was different. Better. Trustworthy.

What a fucking joke.

The bartender poured another shot, the golden liquid sloshing into the glass, and I snatched it up without hesitation.

I threw it back in one brutal gulp.

“More,” I hissed, scrunching my face as the harsh sting clawed its way down.

The bartender paused this time.

His hand hovered over the bottle as he stared at me like I’d completely lost my damn mind.

Maybe I had.

Still, after a brief hesitation, he filled the glass again.

I downed that one too, faster this time and shoved the empty glass toward him once more.

But instead of refilling it, he shook his head.

“What?” My patience snapped thin, irritation flaring through the alcohol haze. “Fill the fucking cup.”

“I can’t, ma’am,” he said, his tone firmer now.

I blinked at him.

Was this idiot serious?

“Then I’ll do it myself.”

My gaze landed on an abandoned bottle of champagne sitting near another customer’s space, and I immediately reached for it.

But before my fingers could wrap around the bottle, the bartender snatched it away.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t drink anymore.”

My fists clenched at my sides.

What the actual hell?

“Says who?” I demanded, pushing up from my stool so fast it scraped harshly against the floor.

The bartender pointed toward the darker corner of the bar.

“Says him.”

I turned sharply.

At first, all I could make out was a broad figure lounging in the shadows, tucked away from the flashing neon lights and chaos of the club. The dim amber glow barely touched him, but it was enough.

A man.

He sat with one arm draped lazily on the arm of the chair. Cigarette balanced between his fingers as smoke curled slowly from his lips, rising like sin itself.

Even from across the room, I could feel it.

He was watching me.

My anger sharpened instantly.

I didn’t care if he was the president's son. He had no right telling me when to stop drinking.

So I stormed toward him, fury fueling every step.

But the closer I got…

The harder it became to breathe.

Because dear God.

The man was devastating.

The dim light finally revealed his face, and my breath caught so suddenly it almost embarrassed me.

His eyes were a rich, dangerous brown. Unreadable and ridiculously sexy. His dark hair was slightly messy, like he’d dragged his fingers through it one too many times. His shirt was carelessly unbuttoned at the top, exposing just enough of his strong chest to make my traitorous eyes linger.

For half a second, my rage faltered.

But only for half a second.

I forced myself to snap out of it immediately.

“Who the hell are you to tell the bartender to stop pouring me drinks?” I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Every ounce of fury burning inside me laced those words. My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms as I glared at him.

But he didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look remotely threatened.

Instead, a low chuckle rumbled from his chest—deep, smooth, and far too amused for my liking.

Like I was entertainment.

Like my anger was cute.

That only pissed me off more.

I slammed both hands onto the table with enough force to make the glasses rattle.

The sharp sound barely fazed him.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet mine, cigarette still resting lazily between his fingers. Smoke drifted from his lips in slow, deliberate curls, wrapping around him like he had all the time in the world.

Meanwhile, I was seconds away from combusting.

“I said,” I growled, my voice rising as heat rushed through me, “who the hell are you?”

Whether it was the alcohol making me bolder or my heartbreak finally snapping into recklessness, I didn’t know.

Maybe both.

For a moment, he simply stared at me.

Those dark brown eyes held something dangerous—something unreadable.

Then he leaned back slightly, looking far too calm for a man testing my patience.

“Just an innocent man watching a girl trying to drink herself numb,” he said, his voice low and smooth, sliding over my skin like smoke. “Whatever you’re going through, alcohol won’t fix it. It won’t make any of this better.”

For a second, I hated how right he sounded.

Because no amount of liquor was going to erase what that asshole did to me.

I should’ve told him to mind his business. Should’ve grabbed my drink and walked away.

Instead, I pushed myself upright from the stool, ready to leave, when a reckless thought crashed into my head so suddenly it made my pulse stutter.

All the years I spent with Jeffrey, I had been the perfect fiancée. Loyal. Faithful. Safe.

And look where that got me.

One reckless night wouldn’t kill me.

The wedding was already dead anyway.

Slowly, I turned back to the stranger. The neon lights from the bar caught the sharp edges of his face as I leaned against the table, close enough to catch the faint scent of whiskey and cedar on him.

“How much for one night?” I asked.