Chapter 2 – The Night She Broke

His mouth stayed on mine.

The kiss turned deeper and hungrier. My hands gripped the front of his shirt. He pressed me harder against the wall. I could feel every solid inch of him. The alcohol still hummed in my blood, but the want cutting through it was clear.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. His breathing was steady. Mine was not.

“You can still walk out,” His voice drops lower, rougher, each word like a physical caress.

The words made something twist in my chest. Damien’s voice came rushing back. “You just lie there. You never please me. You’re not enough.”

I looked down. “I just want to feel like somebody wants me.”

feeling a rush of heat flood through me. I know it’s reckless, but I can’t help myself. I need this. I need him. I need to feel wanted instead of worthless. I need to forget Damien’s mocking voice, bella’s cruel betrayal,and the image of my husband thrusting into my best friend.

“If Damien can fuck whoever he wants, so can I.”

He was quiet for a few seconds.

Then he stepped back.

The sudden space between us felt cold.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” he said.

The rejection landed harder than I expected. Heat flooded my face. Of course. Of course even a stranger didn’t really want me. Damien was right. I was pathetic.

“I understand,” I said quickly. I reached for the door.

His hand closed around my wrist before I could open it.

“I didn’t say I was done.”

He pulled me back and kissed me again, harder this time. I moaned in his mouth.  All the softness was gone. His hands gripped my waist, then my hips and my ass,each touch sending electric shocks down my spine. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt since I got married. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand and pressed his body fully against mine. I could feel how hard he was.

A soft moan left my throat.

Maybe my relationship with Damien kept me so sexually starved that even this contact with a stranger drives me mad with lust, but I don’t care. I don’t fucking care anymore.

“There it is,” he murmured against my neck. “Those pretty sounds, l wonder what other noises I can make you make.”

His free hand slid under my dress, trailing up my inner thigh with agonizing slowness. I’m trembling, desperate, my panties already soaked through.  When he finally pushed my panties aside and his fingers traces my clit, I gasp.

“Fuck,” he breathes, still teasing my clit. “You’re dripping wet already.” he said, voice dropping lower and rough.

I should have felt ashamed. Instead I spread my legs  wider in shameless invitation. This is who I am now.

He pushed two fingers inside me, curling them just right,slow and torturous. My head fell back against the wall. The pleasure built fast. My hips moved against his hand without permission.

“Say it,” he ordered. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please,” I gasped. “I need you.”

He kept moving his fingers, deeper, faster. My thighs started shaking.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” I whispered. “I don’t care if it’s wrong. I need you to take me right here. Use me, ruin me,I don’t care. Just please—”

He made a dark sound in his throat. His fingers curled harder. The first orgasm hit me fast and strong. I almost cried out and clenched around his hand, legs shaking.

He didn’t stop until the waves faded. Then he leaned in, mouth close to my ear, still holding me against the wall.

“My name is Adrian Vale,” he said, voice low and controlled. “Never forget it.”

The name hit me like cold water.

Adrian Vale.

I knew that name. Everyone in this city knew that name. One of the most powerful men in the business world. Richer than Damien. More connected. The kind of man people spoke about carefully.

My blood ran cold.

I just came on the fingers of Adrian Vale.

Heat flooded my face. Mortification crashed over me. If anyone found out… if word got out that Damien Blackwood’s wife got drunk and begged a man like Adrian Vale to fuck her…

My reputation would be finished.

“No,” I whispered, pushing at his chest. “No. This was a mistake. I didn’t know—”

He didn’t move back.

“It’s too late for that,” he said, voice still low. “You already asked me. You already came for me. You don’t get to run now.”

“I can’t,” I said, voice shaking. “People will think I threw myself at you because of who you are—”

“People don’t have to know.” His hand slid back between my legs. I was still sensitive and wet. He pushed two fingers inside me again, slow and deliberate. I bit back a moan. “But I do. And I’m not finished.”

“Please—”

“You said you wanted to feel wanted.” His thumb found my clit. “So stop talking and feel it.”

He kissed me hard, swallowing the rest of my protest. His fingers moved deeper, curling against that spot that made my knees weak. The second orgasm built fast. When it hit, I cried out against his mouth, whole body shaking.

He pulled his fingers out slowly and looked down at me. His eyes were almost black. I could see how hard he was, straining against his pants.

Without another word, he lifted me up while still kissing me. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct. He carried me the short distance to the bed and laid me down carefully, never breaking the kiss.

My back touched the mattress.

He stayed over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other still warm on my thigh.

The room was quiet except for our breathing.

I stared up at him, heart slamming against my ribs.

I should have stopped this.

I didn’t.