The night I lost myself

Ava's POV 

"Your hands let me help you," I said, gently taking the cards from him. 

I looped his arm over my shoulder, and he didn't protest. Well, he couldn't because he looked like he was in pain. He groaned, though I felt the weight of him on my shoulder. I led him down the hall, finding the right room number on the card. 

I could feel the tension in his body, as he fought to stay conscious. "I kept muttering, we are almost there," which was setting me on edge. 

Sliding the card into the reader, I shoved the door open and helped him inside. The suite was massive. Plush furnishings, a sumptuous bed, and floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed the room with natural light. 

"Here please sit," I said, lowering him to the edge of the bed. He groans, his head lounging back, as he tries to sit upright. 

"Maybe you should lie down for some time," I said, pushing his broad shoulders to the back, as he tried to sit upright. 

He placed his hands on me, trying to stop me. I pulled his hands away at the sensation of his bare skin against mine. Weird but I quickly brushed it off as nothing. 

"Water.... I need wat..." he still struggled to put words together.

I moved to the minibar, quickly grabbed a bottle of water for him, and then opened it. I helped him with his head, guiding him to drink the water. 

"Thank you, " he said, his words a little clearer now.  He just needed to sleep it off. 

"You're welcome," I handed him the bottle, my finger brushing against him and then the sensation came again. "You didn't look like you were going to make it."

"Yes, I guess so," he chuckled. "Thank you."

"I will take my leave now," I said, with a smile.  "Have a nice rest."

Before I could turn, he held my hand and said, "Wait!"

He stood with some effort, feeling a bit stronger. He moved closer, though I wasn't afraid. 

'What does he want now?' I muttered inwardly, knowing fully well that my job was not to help a stranger. If Clara ever finds out, then I would be doomed.

He stood in front of me, his blue eyes fixed on mine. He leaned slowly and I knew he wanted to kiss me, but I didn't move. 

His lips brushed against mine, slowly at first. It felt like he was testing my reaction. When he found no opposition, his hands slid down my back, pulling me closer. My breath hitches as he kept his hands, grasping the curve of my waist. Every nerve of my body ignited.

"Please stop..." I said, weakly. It felt like I didn't say anything. It felt like I didn't want him to wait.

His lips found mine again, this time it was faster. He began to grow desperate, his body trembling slightly against me. Whatever drug had been coursing through his system might have slowed him down, but it seemed to heighten his need, and I found myself melting into his touch.

“Don’t go,” he murmured, his lips trailing down to my neck. “Please.”

He had said the word so softly, so pleadingly, so at odds with the way he was clutching me, flush against him. Did I want to go?

He dipped his head into the crook of my neck and nibbled before biting down, pulling a gasp out of me. Then he continued, going lower, pushing my uniform out of the way.

If I had wanted to stop this, that had been the time. I should have stepped back, said I had work waiting for me, and walked out. I mean, I had barely known him. We had met like six minutes before. I should have gone—it would have been the sensible—

Oh!

He nipped at the peak of my breasts, and I exhaled shakily. The way he touched me, the way his lips explored my skin, made my resolve crumble.

So focused on the strong sensations he dragged out of me, I didn’t notice he had moved us back to the bed until my back touched the sheets.

He was slow to undress himself and then me, and he kissed me constantly, nibbling as he did. I felt something warm that warmed me up. He slipped his dick into me and stroked in softly. I had been vibrating with pent-up energy by the time both of us were finally bare. 

He claimed every part of me, thoroughly. His touch had been both demanding and tender, as if he were both lost in the moment and determined to make it unforgettable.

I had let myself go, let myself feel. It had been bliss.

Afterwards, tangled in the sheets, our bodies pressed together, I could see the man’s struggle to keep his eyes open, but that had been a battle he quickly lost.

I lay beside him for a few moments more, nestled against his warmth before carefully extracting myself from him.

I quickly got dressed and slipped out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. The hallway felt colder now, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me.

No more private suits for me that night. Grabbing the tray I had abandoned earlier, I went back to the kitchens, hoping no one would question me. No one looked at me as I entered, because the kitchen was in a flurry and I silently slid in with some servers who were going to work the poker room.

It had been the right call, even if it was a little uncomfortable. The clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation had drowned out the chaos in my head. My aching feet and the excitement of the games all around had kept me from thinking about the ache in more intimate parts of my body.

And more importantly, it had kept me from thinking about him.

Irrationally, I had felt like people knew—like they had been watching me, almost as if they could smell it on me. But of course, they couldn’t have known that for the first time in my life, I had allowed a man to touch me. That I had given that stranger the one thing I had always held onto—my virginity.

And as I had climbed into the car well past midnight, I couldn’t help but feel like there was something I had forgotten.