Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Elsie.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been walking down the hallway.

The music from the party below is faint now, more of a low thump through the floor and the occasional burst of laughter drifting up the stairs.

Up here it’s quiet. The chandeliers along the hallway blur when I look at them. For a second it looks like there are two of each light instead of one. I blink hard and they settle again.

I slow down and put my hand on the wall as the floor shifts slightly under my feet.

That’s… not normal.

I’ve never actually been drunk before. Not properly. I’ve had a glass of wine once or twice, but nothing like this.

My head feels light, but at the same time everything around me feels too sharp. The wallpaper under my fingers is rougher than it should be. The air feels warm against my skin.

My heart is beating too fast.

Second door on the left, that’s what my mother said.

I push myself off the wall and start walking again, carefully this time.

I take one step, then another.

The hallway tilts slightly and I stop again, pressing my palm back against the wallpaper.

Okay, maybe I had more champagne than I thought.

Second door on the left. I turn the corner and start counting the doors.

One. Two.

I reach for the handle but the door opens before my hand touches it.

He’s standing in the doorway.

For a second I just stare. He’s tall enough to fill the whole frame, wearing a dark shirt with the collar open. His jacket is gone. His hair looks slightly messed up, like he’s run a hand through it at some point.

His dark sharp eyes lock into mine immediately. We stare at each other for a moment.

I look past him at the room behind him, then back at his face. “Wrong door,” I say.

“This is my room.” He says in a quiet, almost polite manner.

I blink at the door behind him, then back at his face. “Then I’m definitely in the wrong hallway.”

His gaze moves over me quickly, my face and my dress. The hand I still have pressed against the wall to steady myself.

He doesn’t say anything.

I push away from the wall to leave but the floor tilts the second I move.

I stumble sideways, but his hand closes around my arm steadily.

I’m upright again before I even realize I was falling.

I look up at him. And I really do have to look up. He’s much taller than I expected.

Up close his face is mostly shadow in the dim hallway light. His eyes move over me again, slower this time, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on.

He doesn’t let go of my arm.

“You should sit down,” he says in a low and controlled tone.

“I’m looking for my room,” I say weakly.

“You won’t find it like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“You said that.” One corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “But you don’t look fine.”

I should probably be offended, instead I’m suddenly very aware of how close he’s standing. The hallway is quiet. I can feel the warmth coming off him. He smells faintly of something spicy.

My balance shifts and I lean a little toward the hand still holding my arm. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until his eyes flick down to the movement. Then back to my face.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Elsie.”

He doesn’t offer his, he only watches me for a moment. The hallway feels very quiet all of a sudden.

“You should come inside,” he says after a second. “Until you can walk straight.”

Every sensible instinct I have says no. Unfortunately, sensible instincts aren’t running the show tonight.

“Okay,” I say.

The room is mostly dark when we walk in, except for a lamp beside the bed that casts a soft circle of light across the carpet.

He lets go of my arm. I miss the steady feeling of it immediately, which is ridiculous considering he’s a stranger.

I sit on the edge of the bed while he walks toward the window and looks out at the grounds below.

For a moment neither of us says anything, then he turns back toward me. I’m not sure what my face is doing, but something about it makes his expression change slightly.

Before I can think too much about it, I stand up.

There are only a few feet between us. I close the distance and kiss him.

It happens before I can talk myself out of it. For half a second he goes completely still. I think I’ve made a terrible mistake, then his hands come up to my face, and he kisses me back.

I moan into his mouth, holding my hands holding his arm to keep myself upright while his tongue slides into my mouth, battling for dominance with mine.

I whimper as he removes his hand from my face, only to lift me up swiftly, carrying me to the bed and then laying me down gently.

He’s on top of me, his eyes meeting mine as he fumbles with my dress and mange’s to pull it off me without tearing it apart.

His lips are on my neck, kissing and sucking gently down to my cleavage and then grazing his teeth with my nipples. A soft moan escapes my lips while I fumble with the zipper of his pants, manage to pull it down and then stroke his his cock softly.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his hand wrapping around mine as he slides his cock up and down my slick pussy. He pushes himself in with one swift thrust and I bite down on his shoulder in pain.

He goes still, lifting himself on his elbows to look at me. His eyes searches my glassy ones, and then he frowns. “Have you never—?”

I shake my head, and he sucks in his lower lip, exhaling. “Fuck, Elsie,” he murmurs, “just relax for me, baby,” he adds and begins moving gently inside me.

I bite my lip, trying to regulate my breathing and pushing the pain away. Slowly, the pain turns to pleasure and I find myself moaning loudly, clinging to him and desperate for more.

Suddenly he pulls out, flips me over so I’m on my hands and knees, and enter deep inside of me in one long thrust. I cry out in pleasure, feeling him quite deep inside of me. He takes both my hands and holds it behind me, using it as a vice while he pounds in and out of me hard, bringing me very close to the edge.

Holding my hands in one of his, he brings his other hand beneath me and begins rubbing tightly. I bite down on the sheets, holding back the scream that almost leaves my lips as the orgasm takes ahold of me at last, leaving me shaking beneath me while he continues to pound harder inside me.

He goes still after two thrusts, groaning softly while his hips jerk inside me. After a few minutes, he pulls out and collapses next to me. I turn around, laying on my back and meeting his eyes for all of two seconds before blacking out,

**

Pale grey light presses through the curtains.

I lie still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, waiting for my brain to catch up.

The ceiling isn’t mine, neither are the sheets. They’re heavier than the ones at home, cool and smooth against my skin.

And there’s warmth beside me. Warmth, not a pillow.

Slowly, I turn my head.

He’s asleep.

He’s on his back, one arm resting across his stomach, breathing slow and even, like nothing in the world is bothering him. In sleep, his face looks almost the same as it did last night.

My dress is on the floor.

I shut my eyes and when I open them again, the ceiling is still unfamiliar.

Memory comes back in pieces. The hallway. The wrong door. The three steps I took inside instead of turning around.

My face heats.

Carefully, I push myself up, moving as silent as I can so I don’t wake him. He doesn’t move.

My dress is where I left it. My shoes are near the door, somehow. I pull everything back on quickly, one hand braced against the wall as I step into my heels.

For a second, I look back at the bed, the the man sleeping in it, and the situation I’m quietly leaving behind in this expensive room.

I don’t know his name.

He might know mine. Or maybe I told him and he has forgotten it. Either way, he’s asleep.

The door opens without a sound. I slip out, close it gently behind me, and walk away.