Chapter 4: Hot Encounter

Clairessa’s POV

Gabriel’s hands roamed over me, tracing the curves of my body before settling on my breasts. My nipples hardened beneath his palms, sensitive and aching as he squeezed them at the same time.  

His index finger traced the circle of my areola through the dress, teasing my sensitive peak.  

A soft moan escaped me, my head tilting back as pleasure rippled through me. The feel of his rough hands against my soft skin sent heat flooding between my thighs.  

He paused for a fraction of a second, his darkened eyes locking onto mine, silently asking for permission.  

I gave a small nod.  

That was all he needed. His mouth descended, capturing my breast through the dress, his teeth tugging at my hardened peak before his lips closed around it, sucking deep. The sensation sent a fiery jolt of pleasure straight to my core.  

I writhed beneath him, desperate for more, but when his hands moved to my zipper, it refused to budge.  

“Damn zipper,” he growled, his frustration turning into a deep hunger that only made me ache more.  

As if he could read my mind, he abandoned the futile effort and slid his hands down my thighs instead, caressing the soft flesh before gripping them, parting my legs with ease.  

My pulse pounded as he lifted one of my legs, wrapping it around his waist. His fingers teased at the lace of my panties, brushing over the damp fabric before pushing it aside.  

The first touch of his fingers against my bare heat stole the breath from my lungs.  

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, vibrating against my neck. “So fucking wet for me,” he murmured.  

I wasn’t surprised by the sound—it was a proud, masculine groan, knowing how ready I was for him. I could feel the wetness dripping down my thighs.  

His fingers found my clit and began circling it in slow, deliberate motions.  

I gasped, my hips bucking against his hand, my body pleading for more.  

“You like this?” he taunted, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “The way I touch you? The way I make you drip for me?”  

I whimpered, nodding, too consumed by pleasure to form words.  

His fingers dipped lower, gathering my wetness before gliding back to my aching bud. His touch was both gentle and devastating, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me—unlike anything I'd ever experienced.  

With Adrian, it had been rushed and cold, something that never quite felt right. But this? This was fire, burning through me, leaving no doubt that I wanted him.  

Gabriel’s fingers pressed harder, moving in slow, precise circles, bringing me closer to release.  

“Please… don’t stop,” I begged, my voice raw with desperation. My body trembled, my moans growing louder, needier. I clung to his shoulders, my nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. Just as I was about to fall into bliss, he stopped.  

His mouth found my throat, his teeth grazing my skin as he smirked against me. “Not yet, sweetheart.”  

I groaned in frustration, but I knew what he was doing. He was playing a game of control, drawing me to the edge just to watch me fall apart for him.  

Fine. If he wanted to play, so could I.  

My hands ran over his muscular body, brushing my hardened nipples against his chest. With shaky hands, I reached between us, pressing my palm against the thick, rigid length straining beneath his pants. He sucked in a deep breath, his muscles tightening as I traced the hard bulge.  

“So big,” I whispered, my fingers wrapping around him through the fabric. I gave a slow, teasing stroke. “I wonder how you’ll feel inside me.”  

Something dark and primal flashed in his eyes.  

“Fuck,” he groaned, his control slipping.  

In an instant, his fingers plunged inside me.  

I gasped at the sudden fullness. The feeling was uncomfortable and almost painful at first, but he began to move slowly, curling his fingers, stroking that sweet spot that made me see stars.  

“You’re so tight,” he growled, his lips tracing the hollow of my throat. “So ready for me.”  

His thumb circled my clit, the pressure intensifying as his fingers pumped deeper. My body clenched around him, every nerve igniting.  

“Come for me,” he commanded.  

His movements sped up, and my body responded instantly, waves of pleasure crashing over me.  

“Oh… yes… yes…” I cried, my body shaking as I came, the walls of my core tightening around his fingers.  

Gabriel groaned, his fingers slowing but not stopping, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure.  

Just as I came down from the high, the world around me blurred.  

The alcohol was finally catching up with me, and everything started spinning. My knees gave way, and everything went black.  

When I opened my eyes for a brief moment, I felt strong arms lifting me, carrying me through the dark club.  

His scent—so different from Adrian’s—wrapped around me, oddly comforting.  

I tried to speak, to tell him I didn’t want this to end. But before the words could leave my lips, the darkness pulled me under again.  

—-----

"Clairessa! Wake up!" Jessica’s voice cut through the dream I was having, along with the constant shaking of my shoulder. I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow, trying to hold onto the last bit of the dream that was quickly fading.

"Come on, you’re late for your first day!" Jess’s voice grew more urgent, and the words finally hit me—my first day at Storm Innovations.

That was all I needed to jump out of bed. The sudden movement made my head spin, and a wave of dizziness and nausea hit me. "Oh no," I muttered, pressing my hand to my pounding forehead. "What time is it?"

"It’s already 7:30 am. You’re supposed to be there in half an hour," Jessica said, looking worried. “I tried waking you earlier, but you were out cold.”

“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath. I had never been late for anything in my life, and now, on the most important day of my career, I was messing up.

As I stood there, trying to shake off the grogginess, flashes of last night came back—hazy and disjointed, enough to make me almost pass out. "So, it wasn’t a dream," I muttered, the images replaying in my mind.

The club. The drinks. The devastatingly attractive older man. His rough, possessive touch. The way his lips crashed against mine, leaving me breathless and desperate for more.  

My mind replayed every sinful second—the heat of his body, his hands exploring, teasing, setting my skin ablaze. I could still feel his touch, his mouth, his filthy words.

My heart raced as I felt torn between regret and reckless excitement. 

I had kissed a man I didn’t even know.  

I had let him touch me.  

No—I had wanted him to.  

And now, even as guilt tried to creep in, all I could think about was how much I still craved him.  

What the hell was I thinking?