Chapter 2

The room was quiet, except for the low, rhythmic thrum of the bass vibrating through the walls from the club below. He didn’t say anything else. He just looked at me with an intensity that made my skin flush.

He reached out, his large hand sliding firmly behind my neck, and pulled me into a hard, deep kiss. His lips were hot and demanding, tasting faintly of the whiskey he’d been drinking. I gasped into his mouth, my hands reaching up to grip his shoulders. I could feel the solid muscle of his frame beneath his suit jacket.

He broke the kiss for only a second, his breath hitching as he moved his mouth to the sensitive curve of my ear.

"I’m going to make you forget everything else," he whispered, his voice is low.

His hands moved to the zipper at the back of my dress. The sound of the metal teeth sliding down was sharp in the small space. He pushed the silk fabric off my shoulders, letting it pool at my waist. I felt the cool air of the room hit my bare skin for a split second before his warm, heavy palms covered my breasts. He squeezed them firmly, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peaked into hard points. A low, involuntary moan escaped my throat as he lowered his head, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard.

I arched my back against the leather sofa, my fingers digging into his dark, thick hair. The sensation was intense, a sharp pull of pleasure that made my legs feel heavy. He moved to the other side, his tongue swirling around the tip before he bit down gently. I buckled under him, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

He stood up just long enough to shed his jacket and shirt, tossing them onto the floor. When he pressed back against me, his bare chest was hot and solid. He reached down, his hand sliding under the hem of my dress to find the edge of my lace underwear. He didn't hesitate, his fingers slid inside, finding me already slick and aching for him.

"You're so ready for me," he muttered, his voice dropping into a rough growl.

He began to stroke me with a deliberate, steady slowness. His thumb circled my clitoris with firm pressure while two fingers slid deep inside me. I gripped his forearms, my knuckles turning white as my head fell back against the cushions.

I couldn't describe what I'm feeling. All I know is I wwanted more.

He watched my face as he moved his hand. His fingers disappeared and reappeared, that made my toes curl. I was tight around him, the friction building a heavy pressure in my lower belly that I could no longer control.

"Please," I whimpered, the word catching in my throat as I looked at him.

He pulled his hand away, the sudden loss of contact making me let out a small whine. He moved quickly then, unbuckling his belt and shoving his trousers down past his hips. When he moved back over me, I felt the length of him press against my inner thigh, thick, hot, and pulsing. He positioned himself between my legs, his knees forcing my thighs wide apart until I was completely open to him.

He didn't go slow. He gripped my hips with strong hands and pushed into me in one long, heavy thrust. I cried out, my eyes flying open as I felt him fill me to the absolute limit. I bit my lips as an effort to stay quiet. He stayed perfectly still for a moment, letting my body adjust to his size, his forehead resting against mine as we both panted for air.

Then, he began to move.

He pulled back until he was almost out before slamming back in, the wet sound of our skin meeting echoing in the room. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, hitting a spot deep inside me I didn't know were reachable. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, locking my ankles behind his back to pull him deeper, wanting to feel every inch of the friction.

His pace increased steadily, his movements becoming faster and rough. He wasn't being gentle, his hands left marks on my hips as he drove into me over and over again. I was lost in the raw sensation of it, the feeling of him stretching me, the way his sweat dripped onto my chest, and the relentless rhythm he maintained. The friction was building fast now, a tight, white hot knot of tension coiling in my gut.

"Look at me," he growled.

I looked up, meeting his dark, blown-out pupils. He was focused entirely on me, his jaw clenched tight as he hit a frantic, punishing rhythm. I felt the first spark of my climax start to spread through my limbs. My internal muscles began to twitch and clamp down on him rhythmically. He felt the change immediately, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, and more desperate.

"That's it," he coached, his voice rough against my neck.

"Give it all to me."

I can't help but let out a loud moan.

I finally broke. My walls clamped down on him as a massive wave of heat exploded from my center, radiating outward until I was shaking from head to toe. I screamed into his shoulder, my body vibrating with the force of the orgasm. Seconds later, he let out a deep, guttural groan, his body stiffening as he came deep inside me. He shoved himself into me one last time, his weight pressing me down into the soft leather as he emptied himself completely.

We stayed like that for a long time, our bodies tangled and slick with sweat. He didn't pull away immediately, he stayed buried inside me, his chest heaving against mine as we both tried to catch our breath. The weight of him felt good.

After a few minutes, he shifted, supporting his weight on his elbows so he could look down at me. His face was still flushed, his eyes dark with a lingering heat. He reached out and brushed a damp lock of hair away from my forehead.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice still low.

I nodded, unable to find my voice just yet. I felt hollowed out, but in a way that felt like a relief. The anger and the hurt that had been driving me all night had been pushed to the background, replaced by a deep, bone-deep exhaustion.

He kissed me once more, a softer, slower kiss that didn't have the same desperation as before. Then he pulled back, moving to sit up and reach for his clothes. I watched the play of muscles in his back as he moved, the dim light highlighting the strength of his shoulders.

He stayed focused on me as he dressed, his movements efficient and calm. It was as if the intense energy of the last hour had been channeled back into his usual composed self. When he was finished, he turned back to me, offering a hand to help me sit up.

I took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine. I gathered my dress, pulling it back over my shoulders, though the zipper was still down. He moved behind me without a word, his fingers steady as he zipped the fabric back up. His touch was brief, but it sent a final, lingering shiver down my spine.

The room was still dark, the music from downstairs still thumping, but everything felt different now. The tension was gone, replaced by a quiet, heavy stillness. We didn't talk about what had happened. We didn't exchange names or promises. We just stood there in the quiet of the VIP room, two strangers who had used each other to escape the world for a little while.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver lighter, sparking a flame to light a cigarette. The small glow illuminated his face for a second, the sharp jaw, the dark eyes, before he turned toward the door.

"You should get some rest," he said, the smoke curling around his head.

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