4. Wrecked

Sophie 

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. 

The room was dimly lit—soft amber light from bedside lamps and curtains drawn.

And there he was. 

Not dressed like a gigolo or a stripper and not standing — eager to please me.

He wore a dark, perfectly tailored suit and sat, legs crossed slightly on the couch .

He looked so hot, it felt unreal.

His dark hair was swept back, a little tousled like he’d run his fingers through it. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, full mouth. 

He looked young—God, way too young. Twenty-five? Twenty-four? 

Younger than me by at least ten years. Our gazes met when I stepped inside and my stomach flipped so hard I almost sobered up.

Why was a gigolo wearing an expensive suit?

Was this part of the surprise?

My knees actually felt weak.

I walked toward him, trying to look confident even though my heart was racing wildly.

I just wanted to get this night over and done with. 

"Take off your clothes" I told him, my voice, huskier than I expected. 

I didn't know where I'd gotten this confidence from but I loved it. 

His brows shot up. Genuine shock flickered across that perfect face. “Excuse me?”

I laughed, extremely nervous. “Strip,” I repeated, a little impatient now. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

He leaned forward, studying me like I was the puzzle. “Are you… the one they hired?”

I froze. For a moment, we just stared at eachother without uttering a word. I had no idea of what he was saying and honestly, I didn't care.

 “Let's keep the introductions aside...” I stepped closer, close enough to smell his cologne—it smelled expensive, woodsy—definitely not something a hired gigolo would wear. 

I ignored the questions that swarmed my mind concerning him and I climbed onto his lap, straddling him in one clumsy, determined motion. 

He let out a little grunt as his hands hovered for a split second—like he was deciding whether to push me off or pull me closer—then it settled on my hips.

"...And get down to business" I said and kissed him.

My tongue traced the seam of his mouth— hesitant, nervous —and he opened for me on a low, rough sound that vibrated against my lips. 

It turned hungry in seconds. His hand slid up my back, fingers threading into my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head so he could deepen the kiss. The other hand gripped my thigh, sliding higher under the hem of my dress until his palm was hot against my skin.

I broke away and gasped, “Bed.”

He didn’t hesitate.

In one smooth, powerful motion he stood—with me still wrapped around him like I weighed nothing. I could feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against my core through his trousers, and a fresh wave of heat and nervousness flooded me.

He dropped me onto the mattress and before I could catch my breath he was over me. He'd taken off his suit in a swift motion. 

Our mouths crashed together again—messier this time. My fingers trembled as I unbuttoned his shirt. I hadn’t done this with anyone except Ryan in years, so I was extremely nervous.

But then his fingers gently closed on mine. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to" he said. 

My heart pounded as I stared into his mesmerizing gaze. I had gone too far to back down.

 "I want to..." I whispered and yanked him back down by the open collar and kissed him harder. 

My hands roamed greedily—over broad shoulders, down the dip of his spine, then lower to grip the firm curve of his ass through his trousers and pull him tighter against me.

He hissed when I ground up against him, seeking friction. The thick ridge of his cock dragged right over my clit through soaked lace, and I whimpered—loud, shameless.

I couldn't remember the last time Ryan made me feel this way...

“More,” I gasped. “Please—more.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me. He looked feral. Beautiful. Dangerous.

Then he moved.

In seconds my dress was rucked up around my waist, panties dragged down my thighs and tossed aside. He settled between my legs, shoulders spreading me wide, and the first hot swipe of his tongue made almost jump off the bed.

“Oh God—”

His lips closed around my clit, sucking gently at first, then harder—rhythmic, relentless—while two long fingers slid inside me, curling just right. I was so wet the sound was obscene; every thrust of his hand made a slick, filthy noise that only turned me on more. My hips rolled against his face, chasing it, thighs trembling around his ears.

He growled against me—vibrations straight to my core—and hooked his free arm under my thigh, spreading me wider so he could bury his tongue deeper.

I came fast—too fast—shattering with a broken cry, fingers twisted in his hair, hips jerking uncontrollably. He didn’t stop. He licked me through every aftershock, slower now, softer, until I was whimpering from overstimulation and tugging weakly at his shoulders.

"Get inside me" I said urgently "Now!"

He caught my wrists in one big hand, pinned them above my head, and then he pushed inside me in one long, relentless glide.

My breath left my lungs.

He was thick—stretching me open inch by inch until I exploded with emotions I didn't know I possessed.

“You feel…” His voice cracked. “So perfect.”

He moved slow at first—long, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside me. I let out animalistic sounds I didn't know belonged to me. 

Then he went harder. Deeper. The headboard thudded rhythmically against the wall. My breasts bounced with every thrust; he ducked his head and caught one nipple between his teeth—gentle bite, then soothing lick—while his free hand slid between us to circle my clit in tight, perfect strokes.

I was climbing again—fast, dizzyingly fast.

“Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—” I gasped. 

He didn’t—until my second orgasm ripped through me like wildfire. I clenched around him so hard he swore, then picked up the pace, driving me into insanity. 

 He sent me over the edge again, then he followed with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he came, hips grinding in slow, helpless circles while he emptied inside me.

I was a wreck. This stranger gave me more in a single night than Ryan could offer in five years.

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