Chapter Two: Carol's POV

I stared at the text for a long time.

He still heard the nerve to say that I was overreacting and what did he want us to talk about? About how he ripped my heart out and crushed it like it meant nothing? About how he made me feel so small, so worthless?

I tossed the phone on the nightstand and grabbed the hotel pillow, pressing it to my chest as tears burned my eyes again. I had never felt this way before. I had never felt so alone.

I needed to get out of this room.

I needed to breathe and to forget.

Without thinking too hard, I grabbed a black dress from my bag. It wasn’t fancy but it was seducing enough to make a man want me, just something simple I packed for emergencies. 

I slipped into it, barely caring if it fit perfectly or not. I tied my hair up into a messy bun, wiped under my eyes, applied little makeup to hide my swollen eyes and grabbed my small purse.

The air outside was cold, but it helped clear my head a little. I walked down the street until I found a bar with soft blue lights and loud music. It wasn't the kind of place I usually went to, but tonight, I didn’t care. I just wanted noise loud enough to drown out my thoughts and maybe enough drinks to numb this feeling inside me.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The heavy bass of music hit me first, followed by the strong smell of alcohol and sweat. Groups of people laughed and talked over each other, glasses clinking. Nobody noticed me. Nobody cared. And that was exactly what I wanted.

I slid onto a bar stool and ordered a whiskey, something strong enough to burn.

The first sip hurt, but I welcomed the sting.

I kept drinking. Drink after drink. I didn’t even know how many after a while. I just knew my body felt lighter, and my mind was buzzing, the edges of my sadness disappearing a little.

That’s when I felt someone sit next to me.

I didn’t look at first. I just kept sipping my drink.

"You look like you could use something stronger," a deep voice said.

I turned my head lazily, my eyes landing on the man beside me.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with messy dark hair and a shadow of stubble on his sharp jawline. His eyes were a piercing blue, looking at me with a kind of heat that made my skin prickle.

For a second, my heart stuttered.

There was something familiar about him. It felt like I had seen him somewhere before but I couldn't figure out when or where.

I shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. I didn’t care.

"Maybe I do," I said, voice a little slurred.

He smiled, slow and tempting, and signaled the bartender for two more shots.

We drank together. I laughed at something stupid he said. I leaned in closer than I normally would. His hand brushed against my thigh under the bar, and instead of pulling away, I leaned into the touch, into the warmth his hands provided.

I didn’t think. I didn’t want to think.

When he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Come with me," I didn’t hesitate.

I followed him out of the bar, into the cold night air, into a car I didn’t even remember seeing. His car was sleek, black, and smelled faintly of leather and cologne. He opened the door for me. I slid in without a second thought.

The second the doors shut, silence filled the car—tense, desires and lust ruled my mind.

He turned to me, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching over to stroke my bare thigh.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

I looked into his eyes. “I need this.”

That was all it took.

He leaned in, lips crashing against mine. I kissed him back hungrily, our mouths clashing with fire and desperation. His hand slid up my thigh, brushing over the thin fabric of my panties. I gasped into his mouth when his fingers pressed against the dampness there.

“You’re already wet for me,” he growled.

I nodded, breathless. “Take me somewhere.”

He smirked and started the car, his hand staying on my thigh the entire drive. Every few seconds, he’d brush higher, tease the edge of my panties, slip a finger beneath the fabric and stroke slowly, making me squirm in the seat. My legs trembled, my body burning.

We barely made it through the door of the hotel room before he was on me.

His mouth crashed against mine, hot and desperate. I moaned into his kiss, my hands clawing at his shirt, pulling it over his head. His hands roamed over my body, rough and greedy, like he couldn’t get enough.

He tasted like whiskey and heat, and I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me from drowning.

He pressed me against the wall, his hands roaming everywhere, pulling my dress up, exposing my thighs and panties. His mouth found my neck, biting, sucking, licking until I moaned. I tilted my head, giving him more access.

“Goodness, you’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured.

My hands tore at his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. His chest was hard, sculpted, with a few faint scars that made him look dangerous and real. I wanted to trace every one with my tongue.

He lifted me, his hands gripping my thighs, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He carried me to the bed, tossing me down like I weighed nothing.

I laid there, heart pounding, watching as he slowly peeled off his shirt and unzipped his jeans. My eyes trailed down to the thick bulge in his boxers, and I swallowed hard.

He crawled over me, kneeling between my legs. His hands pulled my panties down slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re soaked,” he said, running a finger along my slit. I whimpered at the contact.

He didn’t rush.

He dipped his head between my thighs, parting me with his fingers and licking me like he was starving. My back arched off the bed, a loud moan escaping my lips.

“Oh, fuck…”

His tongue circled my clit, slow and steady, before flicking faster. His fingers pushed inside me, curling just right. I was shaking, moaning his name over and over like a prayer.

“You taste so damn good,” he muttered against me.

I grabbed his hair, tugging him closer, grinding against his mouth. He groaned, sending vibrations through me, pushing me closer to the edge.

I came hard, crying out, my thighs clenching around his head. He didn’t stop until I was panting and trembling beneath him.

He sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark with lust.

“I need to be inside you.”

I nodded, still dazed.

He stripped off his boxers, and my breath caught. He was big. Thick. Long. I felt my body clench in anticipation.

He climbed over me, lined himself up, and paused.

“You sure?”

“I need you,” I whispered.

He thrust in slowly, stretching me inch by inch. My hands gripped his back, nails digging in. The pain melted into pleasure until I was gasping beneath him.

“You feel so good,” he groaned. “So tight.”

He started moving, slow at first, deep and controlled. I wrapped my legs around him, urging him closer. He picked up speed, thrusting harder, deeper.

The bed creaked. The headboard thudded against the wall. Our skin slapped together with every thrust.

He grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head. His mouth crashed into mine, swallowing my moans.

“You like being fucked like this?” he growled.

“Yes,” I gasped. “Don’t stop.”

He flipped me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up. I cried out when he thrust back into me from behind, deeper than before.

His hand slid into my hair, pulling gently as he fucked me hard. My body trembled, tears pricked my eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

I was losing myself.

Every stroke sent heat shooting through me. Every growl from his lips made my body respond.

“You’re mine tonight,” he whispered.

“Yes—yes—just don’t stop.”

He reached around, rubbing my clit while he slammed into me. My second orgasm hit me harder than the first. I screamed, my body convulsing.

He followed soon after, thrusting deep one last time before shuddering and spilling inside me with a groan.

We collapsed onto the bed, both breathless, covered in sweat.

He pulled me into his arms. I let him. I laid there with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, warm and steady.

He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t talk. He just held me.

And I needed that more than anything.

I didn’t know his name.

Maybe I didn’t want to.

Because tonight, I wasn’t Carol, the betrayed wife. I wasn’t the broken woman crying in a hotel room.

I was just a woman who wanted to be wanted. A woman who needed to feel alive again and for now, that was enough.