I would Take Responsibility

Daniel stepped out of the bathroom, the lingering coolness of the ritual rinses still clinging to his hands and mouth.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie discarded somewhere in the corner. He was muttering under his breath, still irritated at the evening’s events.

The soft click of the bathroom door behind him punctuated the otherwise silent room.

And then he froze.

Standing in the middle of the dimly lit suite was Irene, but she wasn’t just standing. She was completely bare, her skin glowing like porcelain under the subdued light, flawless and untouched.

Daniel’s throat tightened, and an involuntary gulp escaped him, the sound echoing in the stillness.

His eyes widened, unable to immediately process what he was seeing.

“Hot,” Irene muttered, her voice slightly slurred as she bent down. Her fingers worked deftly at the clasp of her bra, unhooking it with an unsettling calm.

The garment slipped down her arms and onto the floor, joining the other discarded pieces of her clothing.

“I’m so hot,” she murmured again, running her hands through her tousled hair. Her movements were unsteady, but her tone was almost nonchalant, as though oblivious to Daniel's presence.

Daniel’s breath hitched, his fists clenching at his sides as he fought the pull of his emotions. Annoyance. Shock. A spark of something darker that he shoved down with ruthless control.

“Who the hell sent you?” His voice cut through the tension like a knife, low and furious. He crossed the room in two long strides, his hand shooting out to grasp her neck, not tightly but firm enough to still her movements.

Irene gasped, her wide, dazed eyes locking onto his. Her lips parted, but no words came. She didn’t struggle, didn’t pull away.

“Tell me,” Daniel growled, his face inches from hers, his dark eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and confusion. “Who sent you? Who the hell are you working for?”

Her breath came in shallow pants, her chest heaving under his intense glare. “I… I don’t…” she stammered, her voice barely audible.

His grip on Irene’s neck faltered as she swayed unsteadily, her glassy eyes unfocused. Irene did not answer his furious question—didn’t even acknowledge it.

Instead, she tilted her head to one side, then the other, humming softly as if she were lost in her own world.

“Who sent you?” he demanded again, his tone sharp and biting. “Answer me!”

But Irene just giggled, the sound soft and strangely childlike. Before Daniel could react, she reached out, her fingers curling around his wrist.

With surprising strength and drunken determination, she tugged him forward and turned him, pushing him flat onto the bed.

“What the—” Daniel’s protest was cut off as Irene climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Her hands pressed against his chest, and she leaned forward, her breath hot against his face.

“I’m hot,” she murmured, her voice slurred but insistent. “So hot, Daniel.” Her hips began to move, grinding against him through the fabric of their clothes.

Daniel froze, his hands gripping the bedspread as he fought the surge of heat flooding his body. His jaw clenched, his breathing quickening despite himself.

“Get off me,” he growled, but his voice lacked its usual conviction.

Irene shook her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “No,” she said simply, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. “You feel good. Cool. I need… cool.”

Her movements became more deliberate, and Daniel’s restraint began to slip. His dark eyes burned with a mixture of anger and lust as he glared up at her.

“You crazy woman,” he warned, his voice dangerously low. “Stop this right now.”

She didn’t. Instead, she laughed softly, her drunken haze evident in every motion.

You know we can have sex right I am ready for you Irene said roaming her hands over his chest through his clothes.

Daniel groaned, his frustration mounting. His self-control was hanging by a thread, and she was unraveling it with every sway of her hips.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his resolve breaking.

In one swift movement, he flipped her over, pinning her beneath him. Her laughter died as she stared up at him, her lips parted and her chest heaving.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing but better don't regret this and when you are back to your senses tomorrow I would take responsibility,” he growled, his voice rough with suppressed desire.

Irene’s only response was a lazy smile, her hands trailing up his arms as if to taunt him further.

Daniel’s gaze dropped, his eyes catching on the curve of her bare skin. His control snapped, and he bent down, his lips capturing her nipple. Her soft gasp was the only sound that broke the tense silence in the room.

And then everything went quiet, save for the sound of Irene's moans.