Mr. Stranger

“Don’t go! I don’t want to go home yet. Can you please stay with me a little bit?” my voice came across as a plea

“Rough night?” a deep, smooth voice asked as he turned to face me properly.

“You could say that, so do you want to keep my company?” I muttered, slowly releasing my grip on his clothes. The burn of alcohol chased away some of my nerves.

He smirked, following my lead as we went back to the barstool for more drinks. “Bad breakup or bad decision?”

“Both.”

“I see.”

A drunk guy almost brush past my shoulder but he quickly pulled me against him so I wouldn’t fall and a huge heat wave rose in my chest as I touched his sturdy body. I wasn't usually the type to flirt with strangers, but at that moment, those rules didn't exist.

“I'm Rose,” I lied, my voice steadier than I expected.

“Nicholas.” His gaze dropped to my lips for half a second before he met my eyes again. “You shouldn’t come to places like this alone.”

I tilted my head. “Desperate times, you know?”

He chuckled, low and rich. “I do.”

“So, what's the plan, Rose? Drown your sorrows in overpriced cocktails and call it a night?”

“I don't know.” I licked my lips, watching the way his eyes darkened. “Maybe I'm open to suggestions.”

His gaze raked my entire body, sending a shiver down my spine. He leaned in slightly, close enough that I could smell his cologne.

It was something woodsy and expensive that made my stomach flip in ways it had no business flipping. “It’s your call, my lady.” was all he responded with

“Then let's dance,” I suggested with a giggle. He hesitated but I whined till he agreed.

I wasn't the best dancer. However, his gaze and his presence wrapped around me like a slow-burning flame made me reckless.

The dance floor was a mix of heat and motion, too chaotic. The pulse of the music vibrated through me, and I let it and him take over after missing some steps. His hands were confident but respectful as his fingertips traced my waist, his grip was firm but never forceful. He moved with the kind of ease that only came from knowing exactly what he was doing.

And God, he did know what he was doing.

Every shift of his body sent sparks across my skin. His touch was a whisper of something I wanted but couldn't admit to.

I pressed closer, feeling the hard lines of his body, the effect of the alcohol was kicking in. I didn't think about Ryan or the betrayal. Only about the moment, my escape, the way Nicholas's hands skimmed my back, and teasing the back of my dress mattered.

“You're playing with fire, Rose. I think we should stop this,” he murmured against my ear.

I tipped my chin up, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I want to get burned.”

His jaw tensed at my response. His eyes danced between hesitation and restraint. A slide of my hand down his chest replaced it with a look that sent a thrill down my spine.

One slow, lingering stroke of his fingers down my arm, and I knew there was no way I would escape my fantasy. Tonight, I wasn't going to be the careful, cautious girl who waited for the perfect moment.

I was going to feel fulfilled, and Nicholas was going to help me do that.

****

I woke up to a pounding headache and a wave of nausea rolling through me. My body felt sore in places I didn't want to acknowledge. It was a dull reminder of the stranger's touch—the way he had held me, he had claimed me, and the way he had set my body ablaze with sensations I never knew existed.

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I squeezed my thighs together as if that could erase the ghost of his hands roaming my skin, his lips tracing wicked patterns down my neck. My heart thumped painfully against my ribs as realization hit me like a freight train.

I had lost my virginity to a stranger. A complete stranger. I had spent years holding onto my virginity like a prized possession, convinced that the first time had to be special, meaningful, and shared with someone I loved.

But last night? Last night was none of those things, and yet, I couldn't ignore the way my body had responded to him, to the delicious friction, the sinful rhythm of our bodies moving together in the dimly lit hotel room.

Flashes of our encounter played in my mind like an illicit movie. His lips pressed hungrily against mine, his fingers tangled in my hair as he pulled me closer. The deep, husky groans that sent shivers down my spine continuously.

He had worshiped me with his mouth, his hands, and his body, drawing out pleasure in ways I had never imagined. I could still feel the way he had whispered against my ear, his voice dripping with desire, sending a thrill down my spine. “You're perfect.”

My stomach twisted in pleasure. The touch felt new like he was doing it again, and before I could realize it, my panties were filled with wetness.

I didn't even know his name; his face was blurred by the club's neon lights and the haze of my own reckless choices. What kind of girl loses her virginity to a stranger? Only an impulsive girl. A girl who let herself get carried away by the rush of alcohol, the loud music, and the intoxicating thrill of his touch.

Regret curled in my chest, combating the lingering pleasure still rushing in my veins. I turned onto my side, burying my face into my pillow as if I could smother the shame building up my spine. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I grabbed it, only to groan at the onslaught of messages from Chloe and Mia.

Spill, bitch!! Babe, spill! How was it with Ryan?

How was Ryan? You are trying to sly us, aren't you? Don't even deny it! Give us the tea, girl!

You had better give us all the details, or we'll show up at your house in the next hour.

Arggh Ryan. They thought I had been with Ryan. The boy I had dated for years, imagined sharing my first time with, and the one who was the sheep in wolf's clothing. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. If only they knew that he was not the person, he presented himself to be. If only I had known. I shut my eyes, exhaling through my nose.

Ignoring the messages, I threw my phone onto the bed and sat up, running a hand through my tangled hair. No. I wasn't ready to deal with their questions or my own self-inflicted disaster. I needed coffee or food, a distraction, or anything to shake off the memory of last night's sinful indulgence.

I dragged myself out of bed to get a cup in order to soak up the remnants of alcohol still swirling in my system. The scent of bacon and coffee drifted through the house as I made my way downstairs. My mom was already at the dining table, sipping her tea with a content smile. And across from her sat a man.

The moment my eyes landed on him, my entire body locked up.

Dark hair, piercing eyes, and a sharp jawline. Everything from last night came rushing back in vivid detail. My breath caught in my throat as he casually cut into his toast as if he wasn't the same man who had ruined me just hours ago.

Did I just see the man I slept with yesterday eating at our dining table? I couldn’t believe whatever my eyes and brain was telling me until my mother's voice cut through my drifting thoughts.

“Oh, sweetheart, good morning! Come and have breakfast. This is Nicholas, your uncle who's visiting for a few days.”

Uncle? No. No way. What do you mean, Uncle?