Familiar Strangers

Elena’s back hit the silk sheets with a gasp that echoed through the penthouse suite. Las Vegas lights bled red and gold through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting their naked bodies in flickering neon.

Damian Holt loomed over her, six-foot-four of raw power and expensive cologne. His dark eyes burned as he pinned her wrists above her head with one large hand.

“Five minutes ago you were telling me you never do this,” he growled, voice rough with lust. “Now look at you. Spread open and dripping for a stranger.”

Elena arched, shameless. “Shut up and fuck me.”

He laughed, low and filthy, then shoved her thighs wider. His thick cock, long, veined, already glistening at the tip, nudged her soaked hoe. One brutal thrust and he buried himself to the hilt.

“Fuckkkk yes…” Elena cried out, her nails raking down his back.

He didn’t ease in. He took. Hard, deep, steady. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room as he pounded into her, the heavy headboard slamming the wall in perfect rhythm. Every stroke dragged over that perfect spot inside her until her vision blurred out until reality sounded like noise.

“Damnnn, you’re so tight down here,” he snarled, teeth grazing her throat. “Squeezing me like you want to keep me inside you forever.”

He released her wrists, grabbed her hips, and flipped her onto her stomach. Elena barely had time to moan before he yanked her ass up and slammed back in from behind. Deeper. Meaner. His balls slapped her clit with every thrust.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demanded, one hand fisting her hair, the other reaching around to rub furious circles over her swollen clit.

“Full…, too full….oh fuck, I’m going to come”

“Then come on my cock like a good girl.”

The orgasm ripped through her so hard her scream cracked. Her pussy clamped down, pulsing, milking him. Damian's hips were stuttering, then drove in one last time and flooded her…hot, thick jets of cum painting her walls until it leaked out around his still-throbbing shaft.

He didn’t pull out. Instead he collapsed over her, mouth at her ear.

“Keep it,” he rasped, pressing something cool and metallic into her palm. A silver bracelet with a tiny poker-chip charm. “So you never forget who fucked you this good.”

Then the dream shifted, always did…into the part that made her wake up soaked and aching every single time.

Damian pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from her wrecked pussy. He smeared it over her clit with two fingers, pushing it back inside her.

“Next time I’m filling you again. And again. Until you’re carrying my baby and begging for more.”

Elena jolted awake with a broken moan, sheets tangled around her legs, one hand already between her thighs and in her wet pussy. Her clit was swollen, pulsing. Two quick circles and she came again, hard, silent, biting her pillow so she wouldn’t scream and wake Mia.

She lay there panting, heart hammering, staring at the ceiling of her tiny two-bedroom apartment. Five years. Five goddamn years and the man still ruined her in her sleep.

The silver bracelet glinted on her nightstand. She never took it off during the day, but at night she laid it beside her like a dirty secret. Proof that the best sex of her life had been real.

And that the father of her four-year-old daughter had no idea she existed.

“Mommy?” A small voice from the doorway.

Elena yanked the sheet up. “Hey, baby. Bad dream?”

Mia rubbed her eyes, clutching her stuffed unicorn. “Can I sleep with you?”

Elena opened her arms. Mia crawled in, warm and trusting, and was asleep in seconds.

Elena stared at the ceiling, pulse still racing between her legs.

Today was the pitch.

Today she would walk into Damian Holt’s boardroom and pretend she’d never screamed his name while he came inside her.

She slipped the bracelet on, the tiny poker chip cool against her wrist. A reminder. A warning.

By 7:15 a.m. she was dressed.., tight black pencil skirt, emerald silk blouse that made her eyes pop, killer heels. Makeup flawless. Hair in a sleek ponytail. Professional on the outside. On the inside, her pussy still throbbed from the dream-orgasm.

Lila was already in the kitchen, pouring coffee. Her best friend and business partner took one look at her and smirked.

“Wet dream again?”

“Shut up.”

Lila handed her a mug. “You moaned his name in your sleep last night. Loud. Mia asked if ‘Damian’ was a new cartoon.”

Elena’s face burned. “I’m going to die.”

“No, you’re going to walk into Vanguard Creative and win the biggest contract of our lives. Then you’re going to keep pretending you don’t have his kid and his cum still dripping down your thighs in your dreams.”

Elena almost choked on her coffee.

Lila’s expression softened. “You’ve got this. Just don’t let him see the bracelet too long. Or your face when he looks at you.”

Thirty minutes later Elena stood outside the gleaming Vanguard tower, heart in her throat. The dream still clung to her.., his hands, his big long cock, the filthy things he’d whispered.

She stepped into the elevator.

Forty-second floor.

The receptionist smiled. “Mr. Holt is ready for you.”

The boardroom door opened.

Damian Holt stood at the window again, same broad shoulders, same tailored suit. He turned.

Their eyes locked.

And for one terrifying second, something dark and hungry flickered across his face like the dream had followed her here.

“Ms. Reyes,” he said, voice low. “Let’s talk about what you can do for me.”

He gestured to the chair directly across from him.

Elena sat, crossing her legs. The bracelet slid against her skin.

Damian’s gaze dropped to it.

His jaw tightened because somehow he knew that charm…,he just didn’t remember why.

Or maybe just YET!!!

Elena opened her laptop, voice steady even as her clit pulsed at the memory of him filling her.

“Shall we begin?”

But as she launched into the pitch, Damian leaned forward, eyes never leaving her face or the bracelet.

And under the conference table, his hand brushed her knee but what she wasn't sure of is whether or not that touch was as unintentional as it seemed.

The meeting had barely started, and already Elena was wet again.

Her phone vibrated silently in her bag.

She ignored it.

Until the anonymous text came through at the exact moment Damian’s thumb grazed the inside of her knee.

Unknown: I know what happened in Vegas.

Unknown: And I know whose baby you’re hiding.

Unknown: Walk away from this deal… or everyone finds out.

Elena stiffened and was visibly in shock or should I say fear of the unknown.

Damian’s fingers were still tracing her skin.

And the war had already begun.