Chapter One — The Night With No Names

Elara's POV

"You're so wet," he whispered.

His fingers slid between my folds, teasing the slick heat that had built from just his stare across the bar.

My breath caught in my throat. Even a shiver ran down my spine. I leaned back against the wall of the private room in Eclipse with my mouth open.

The lounge was upscale, the kind of place where the rich hid their vices. 

I had snuck out here tonight with my heart pounding in rebellion. 

This was my emotional escape from my Mom's quick marriage to the billionaire, Victor Blackwood.

That man had turned our home into a sterile mansion, full of expectations and silence in less than a week.

I was eighteen tonight. It was also my final year of high school. It would soon be behind me. But I was still trapped in that innocent shell. 

Tonight, on a whim, I had dared myself to break free. It was the reason I had slipped into this tight black dress that hugged my curves beautifully.

I felt powerful for once.

He had spotted me first. The man who would take my virginity.

Those gray eyes that pierced like they knew my secrets met mine across the lounge after I had had two shots.

Maybe three, considering the fact that I was a little bit tipsy.

And he was moving towards me before I could say jack Robinson.

I could tell he was older than I was, maybe twenty-two. He had that sexy but magnetic aura, his dark hair falling down over a sharp forehead.

My thighs clenched together when he reached me, winking perfectly.

“Hey lovely.”

I couldn't answer him. There was a lump sitting adamantly in my throat. And the overwhelming sensations which was travelling through me didn't even help matters at all.

He exuded control, leaning against the bar in a fitted shirt that hinted at the hard body beneath there. 

There was no introductions. 

He just bought me a drink. His voice was low and smooth when he clinked his glass against mine. 

"You look like you're running from something,” he pointed out.

I nodded, sipping the vodka that burned my throat. Yet, it warmed me, loosening the knot in my chest. 

Tension built fast—his knee brushing mine, his gaze dropping to my lips, and heat pooling low in my belly. 

Alcohol made me bold; I wasn't even experienced. I had never gone this far with anyone. But there was something in him that called my deepest desires, the fire I had kept hidden for so long.

“Let's get out of here,” he leaned in and whispered when I was already so wet, liquid was staining my panties.

I nodded without thought.

Now, in this locked room, his mouth found mine in a hungry and demanding kiss that tasted of whiskey and sin.

His tongue swept past mine, diving swiftly into my mouth in order to taste the nooks and crannies.

And while his hand cupped each of my breast through the dress, the pad of his thumb was circling my nipple until it peaked into two hard beads. 

My legs were shaking. Emotions swirled inside me—excitement laced with nerves, and a thrilling fear that made my pulse to race. 

I'd fantasized about this, but reality was overwhelming, his presence filling the space, making me feel small yet desired.

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with something I knew was lust—unbridled, unbothered.

"Tell me you want this." His voice was a command, but there was a careful edge, like he was testing the waters.

"I do," I breathed. My hands began to tremble as I tugged at his shirt. And boldness surged within me. 

I wanted to shed my inexperience there and then like old skin.

He growled his approval and lifted my body effortlessly onto the small table at a corner of the dim room. 

My dress hiked up to expose my thick thighs beneath them. And he stepped between them, his hardness pressing against my core through his pants. 

I gasped at the contact, grinding against him instinctively, the friction sending sparks through me. 

His fingers hooked my panties, sliding them down slowly, exposing me. 

Vulnerability hit hard—nerves twisting in my gut, wondering if he would see just how new this was to me. 

But the want overpowered it, and that deep ache begging for more.

He knelt suddenly in my front, his breath hot on my inner thigh. 

"So pretty," he murmured, before his tongue flicked out, tasting me. 

My head fell back. My mouth fell open along with it. And I moaned, loud and unrestrained while my hands shot out towards him, fisting his hair. 

He licked slow, deliberate circles around my clit, sucking gently, then harder, building pressure that had my hips bucking with hunger. 

Emotions flooded me. The ecstasy was mixed with shock. Shock at how good it felt, at how my body betrayed my innocence with eager wetness. 

"Oh God," I whimpered. 

My legs were shaking when he added his fingers—one at first, sliding in easy from my arousal, then two.

There were stretching instantly stretching my cunt with a slight burn, but the pleasure drowned it.

He stood to his feet and began undoing his belt with one hand. His eyes remained on me.

The clink echoed in the silence—not totally, I was breathing heavily. 

His pants fell to the floor and he pushed down his briefs. Then, his cock sprang free from them—thick, veined, and utterly intimidating. 

My eyes widened. 

A wave of anxiety crashed over the lust which had taken over me. I had never seen one up close before, not even a flaccid one. Never felt one. 

What if I couldn't handle it? The thoughts whirled around in my head as he palmed himself slowly.

But boldness won me over. I reached out and took over from him, wrapping my hand around his hardness.

A groan left his lips. 

My eyes flickered to his face. His features were marred with pleasure. I stroked his cock tentatively. 

He hissed, eyes fluttering shut before she spoke: "Fuck, that feels good."

I explored his cock for a few moments before he stopped me.

“If you continue, I'm going to cum all over your pretty dress,” he said, leaning in. “We don't want that.”

I swallowed, my eye following his which grabbed his large cock. My mouth began to water.

The sight was hot. He positioned himself, rubbing the tip against my entrance, coating himself in me. 

"Ready?" His voice was rough. But he waited for me, gray eyes searching mine—dominant, yet careful.

I nodded, heart hammering in my chest as excitement buzzed. But fear nipped at its edges too. 

This was it—my first time, with a stranger in a lounge. 

There was no turning back.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch. 

The stretch that followed was intense and new to me. Until a sharp pain sliced through the pleasure. 

I winced, biting down in my lower lip hard enough to stifle a cry. 

He froze halfway. His brows furrowed when he glanced down at me.

"You're tight…” I blinked away the years in my eyes. “Wait." I swallowed softly. He pulled back slightly, eyes widening in realization. 

He knew now! He did.

"This is your first time?" Heat flooded my face at his words. 

The embarrassment mingled with the ache at my core. I looked away, nodes began forming in my throat. 

"Yeah," I admitted. My voice was small, and I hated it.

Emotions tumbled in me—shame for not saying sooner, worry because he might stop, delight from his cock.

But there also a strange vulnerability from all of this that made me feel exposed in a way that was raw.

He cupped my chin and turned me to face him. His expression softened. The dominance he exuded was tempered with something that was almost tender. 

"Why didn't you say so?" But there was no judgment in his eyes—just surprise. And beneath it, there was a darker hunger—like the knowledge of my innocence fueled him.

"I didn't want to ruin it," I whispered, tears pricking my eyes from the mix of pain and overwhelming sensation. "I want this. Please, don't stop."

He groaned, leaning in to kiss me deeply in a slow, sensuous way. 

"I'll be careful. But fuck, knowing I'm your first..." His voice trailed off, laced with a certain possession. 

I swallowed.

“Brace yourself.” He moved again, gentler this time. His cock eased into my pussy with shallow thrusts, letting my cunt have time to adjust. 

The pain faded gradual, blooming into pleasure as my body adapted. 

Relief flooded me, and then it was building into ecstasy.

There was a sense of empowerment in giving this to him, a stranger who had awakened something primal in me.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he muttered, fully in me now, his hands in my thighs holding my body still. 

The thrusts were delivered with a precision that made me insane. My legs were shaking in his grip.

His hand slipped between us for his thumb to touch my clit, rubbing soft circles there to ease me. 

I moaned, the dual sensation was just overwhelming—fullness inside my cunt and circles from outside. 

The boldness returned and I wrapped my legs around him, tighter, pulling his cock deeper with each stroke. 

Each thrust was carefully building the rhythm that made me cry. The pain that lingered was faint.

Pleasure dominated it all, the waves rising higher and higher. 

My nails dug into his back, urging him on. "Harder," I begged, surprising myself. He obliged, pace quickening, raw now but still mindful—his eyes watching my face, adjusting when I gasped.

Emotions peaked, and I was in awe at how my body responded to the intimacy with someone nameless, and the dark thrill of recklessness. 

He was dominant, hus hands pinning my hips, angling deep, hitting spots that made me see stars. 

"Come for me little virgin," he growled in my ears—the words dirty and possessive in a way that sent me over the edge without hindrance.

I shattered, my orgasm ripping through me. The walls of my pussy clenched tight around his fullness. 

Tears spilled from my eyes—not from pain, but the intensity, the emotional release of letting go. 

My lips produced words—incoherent and absolutely high-pitched. 

He followed, thrusting erratic, spilling hot inside with a guttural moan, his body tense against mine.

We panted, foreheads touching. He pulled out gentle, kissing my tears away. "You okay?" His thumb was brushing my cheek now.

I nodded. My cunt was sore, but I was glowing inside—shaken by the orgasm and the vulnerability, yet smiling at the secret power I had claimed. 

He dressed fast, his movements efficient. "A pity we would never meet  to do this again," he said with his voice regretful, eyes unreadable.

I believed him, watching him leave. 

The room felt empty, but I lingered in order to savor the ache. Afterwards, I called a cab and went home. 

The mansion was silent when I slipped into bed with my body throbbing and my emotions a whirlwind.

Did I regret it? No. 

Was it thrilling? Yes. 

My cunt was sore. I was shaken. But I could still smile because I had no clue the man would twist into my nightmare, bound by family blood that wasn't ours.