002: Handsome stranger

Diane

I walked into a familiar room, music buzzing. It was the Underground session of this bar. It was dark and busy, but it was busy in a good way.

I didn't want to see anyone I knew, so I headed straight for the VIP section. Clutching my coat as I walked, careful not to reveal anything, except my frustration, which was probably written on my face now.

It had been years since I stood in a place like this. Back then, I was just the Alpha’s daughter. The sweet little girl who would just have fun and do what she loved.

Now, I was a wife. A wife who felt like a ghost.

The VIP bar was dimly lit. Everyone was busy with their own sins. Nobody would recognize the authoritative presence of the Luna of the Delta Pack here.

I sat down and ordered a drink. I would drown my problems with this, I said to myself, as I poured it down.

One.

And I poured the contents into my throat. I could feel the burning sensation of the alcohol as it trickled down.

I ordered again.

Two.

Then—

Five.

Seven.

At this point, the burning in my throat matched the burning in my blood. By the tenth drink, my head was already spinning. But I wasn't done. I wanted more. More of this drink until I passed out here. Maybe when I woke up, I would forget this stinging pain of rejection.

I reached for the glass again, my hand shaking.

“I think you’ve had enough, Little Bird.”

A large hand clamped over mine, stopping me from reaching the bottle.

I looked up. It was… a stranger. He was older—maybe in his early forties.

He had salt-and-pepper hair and a face that looked like it was carved out of stone. His eyes were dark and dangerous.

I frowned. “You don't have the right to stop me,” I snapped, trying to pull my hand away.

But he didn't let go. His grip tightened.

“I have the right to stop a beautiful woman from drowning herself,” he said with a deep voice that rumbled in his chest.

He looked at the empty shots on the table briefly, then back at me. “Besides, if you're trying to forget something, the drink won't help. Not if it hasn't helped by now.”

I swallowed hard and said nothing, looking at him.

He leaned in closer. Fuck. What is that smell?

He smelled so good.

His breath fanned my neck as he whispered, “You aren't here for the alcohol, Peanut. You're here for a distraction.”

I felt my face grow hotter, shivers running down my spine. For every stupid reason, I could feel my core heat up.

He was right. I wasn't here for alcohol; I was here for a distraction. And this man—this sexy man—he was flirting, and I was drunk enough to like every bit of it.

At this point, my wolf was purring inside of me. This man didn't look at me with pity like Julian did. He looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive.

I swallowed hard. And with the last ounce of resistance in me, I said, “Get out of here, sir.”

But he didn't lean back.

Suddenly, I felt his lips hover so close to my ear, brushing it slightly, as he whispered—

“Sir? I love that. But I prefer Daddy.”

The word—

I felt blood rush, warm and triggering, through my veins, settling in my core.

Then he stood up and held out his hand toward me. “My room is on the roof. It’s quiet. And…” His eyes dropped to me.

I looked down at myself—my coat had parted, fully revealing the black lace.

“…I have better distractions than whiskey.”

At that moment, all the lectures about what it took to be the perfect Luna, to be the virtuous wife—all of them—disappeared from my memory as I watched the strong, veiny hand stretched out in front of me, waiting.

I didn't think about my husband.

I didn't think about the pack.

I just took his hand.

The elevator ride was fast. My heart was thumping against my ribs. As soon as the door to the room opened, he didn't wait.

He pushed me against the wall, his lips slamming into mine. It wasn't gentle. Not anything like Julian's. It was hungry. It was the kind of kiss that made my toes curl.

He pulled back, his dark eyes searching mine. “I’m your daddy,” he rasped. “And tonight, you’re mine.”

He stripped my coat off, revealing the black lace. I watched his gaze linger.

“Such a beautiful little thing.”

He picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bed. When he laid me down, he moved between my legs.

“You're burning up,” he whispered, probably feeling the heat coming off my skin.

“I’m in heat,” I admitted, my voice low and needy. “Please. I need it.”

He smiled—barely. “I know what you need,” he said.

He moved down the bed. He didn't rush. He started at my ankles, his lips meeting my skin.

Fuck.

My breath seized for a second. Then he kissed his way up to my thighs.

I watched him. My clit already throbbed every time his lips inched higher.

When he reached the center of my lace underwear, he didn't stop. I watched him, my head tilted upward slightly, as he dragged the pair down—one fast yank.

Fuck!

The fabric left my skin without hesitation, ripped off.

Then he leaned down, parting my legs. I felt his hot breath before I felt it—the warm, moist thickness of his tongue.

Fuck!

My fingers dug into the fabric of the bed, knuckles turning white.

His tongue moved, licking me from the very bottom of my opening all the way up to my already swollen

clit.

“Ahhh, fuck…!” I moaned. My head tilted back, eyes barely open.

But he didn't just lick—he sucked. He took my clit into his mouth, tugging gently with his lips while his tongue flicked back and forth in a blurry rhythm.

“Oh! Ohhh! Ahn—ahn—ahn!” I arched my back, my hips bucking off the bed.