Chapter 002

DIANA

A man stood behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know he was watching me. I could feel his gaze—heavy, consuming.

I exhaled shakily.

For the first time, something inside me stirred.

Fuck it.

I stepped onto the dance floor, my body moving to the beat. I had no idea how to dance sensually, but the alcohol in my veins guided me. My hips swayed, my hands ran through my hair, and my body arched slightly with the music.

And then—he was there.

Close. Too close. He guided me swayed perfectly. I supposed to stop the man but I feel like I'm with a safe vault. Whoever it is, he's lucky for taming my system.

I think, I'm enjoying PDA at this moment.

His hands did touch me, and I liked it. I could feel his heat all over me, surrounding me, consuming me. A silent invitation.

And I accepted it.

My body pressed against him instinctively. He hovered over me, his presence overwhelming. I felt him—hard, thick, pressing against my backside. Arousal pooled between my thighs. My breath hitched. I want this.

His hands started exploring, pressing against my delicate curves. Then, his lips—warm, wet—touched my nape, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along my skin.

A shiver ran down my spine.

His hand traveled lower, grazing my thighs before cupping my core without hesitation. His palm was big, rough—his fingers pressing against the thin fabric of my underwear.

"Ohhh... mmm..."

I moaned—automatically—and the sound was more sinful than I expected.

He stiffened behind me, exhaling sharply.

His other hand cupped my br*ast, kneading, teasing. Heat curled inside me, coiling, spreading. I wanted more. So much more.

Why was I letting this stranger touch me like this? Why did I want it so badly?

Heather was right. This is addicting.

His fingers traced my damp panties, slipping between my folds, circling—testing.

"You're f*cking... wet."

His voice was dark, husky—dangerously smooth.

My lips parted, my breath shuddering. I clenched my thighs, but it only made me more sensitive.

Then, his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me in tighter—slow, deliberate. His touch was firm but patient, as if waiting for me to push him away.

I didn't.

Instead, I parted my legs slightly, giving him access—silently telling him to continue.

His breath was hot against my ear.

Encouraged, I reached down, my trembling fingers grazing his wrist, guiding his hand further, pressing it against my aching need. More.

I was about to beg—about to tell him exactly what I wanted—when he suddenly whispered,

"You're drunk."

I froze.

His lips ghosted over my skin again, his tongue flicking against my neck. Fuck.

"I know," I murmured, tilting my head to the side, offering myself to him.

His mouth latched onto my skin, sucking, teasing, leaving a mark.

"Mmm... that's it... ughhh..." I moaned, my head lolling back onto his shoulder.

My heartbeat pounded louder than the music.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered, his voice thick with restraint, his lips brushing against my ear.

I should....but I..... didn't.

Instead, I whispered the words that sealed my fate.

"Put that finger inside me, please."

He didn't move immediately. His fingers hovered at my entrance, feeling the wetness that had gathered there. My body trembled with anticipation.

And then—everything stopped. The moment I turned to face him, my pleasure-drunk haze shattered.

My eyes locked onto his.

Dark. Intense. Familiar.

"YOU?!"

His jaw tightened, his restraint visibly cracking.

Then, the bastard smirked.

"You love getting f*nger-f*cked, don't you?"

Heat exploded across my face. Reality slammed into me like a truck.

With a sharp gasp, I shoved his hands away, stumbling back.

But the tingling sensation between my legs didn't stop.

He lifted his hand—the same hand—to his lips.

And l*cked his fingers.

"You taste good." His voice dripped with amusement.

Rage. Humiliation. Lust. It all crashed inside me at once.

"F*CK YOU, RUTHER!!!"

What the h*ll did I just do?