Authors: Elizabeth Ward
I wake in the dark, warm silk sheets caressing every part of my naked skin and a hot, heavy arm draped around my middle.
I can’t help smiling as I stare into the darkness.
If that was sex, I’ve been doing it wrong all this time.
But as I feel myself becoming more awake and aware, I wonder what the convention is for one-night stands.
I’ve never had one before and I inwardly kick myself for not asking Gemma; she’s had loads.
In the books and movies it’s usually the guy who sneaks out before the woman wakes up, but he seems perfectly comfortable sleeping next to me, his warm breath coming in quiet, manly groans.
I want to turn around and wrap my arms around him, feel his hard chest against my tender breasts.
I want to kiss him awake or maybe wake him with my mouth on that very large asset he’d used so well last night.
Was that too intimate?
It felt like something only couples would do, not strangers who’d just spent the night together.
Gently I pull away, extracting myself from his warm sleeping body.
I can just make out the shapes in the room and as my eyes adjust to the dark, I find my clothes and tiptoe out into the main room.
I feel like a thief in the night, sneaking out and something in my chest aches as I stare longingly at the open door and the dark outline of the bed.
I can hear him breathing, I can just make out the shape of his large body under the sheet and I almost break, almost toss my clothes back to the floor and return to his warm embrace.
But I don’t.
Instead I dress in silence and slip out of the room.
As I ride back down to the foyer, I stare at my reflection again.
I look the same but something is different.
My lips are swollen and a darker shade of pink, my cheeks are a little flushed, my eyes are bright and actually glowing in the dim yellow light.
As I watch, a goofy smile stretches across my mouth and I can’t stop the giddy little giggle that erupts from my chest.
I had a one-night stand.
Miss straight-laced, never-cross-the-line Hannah had a hot, sexy one-night stand with a sexy rich stranger.
The smile is almost bursting off my face by the time the elevator ride finishes.
I feel in control.
It’s a couple of days after the night with my sexy stranger that Gemma finally cracks.
“Girl, if you don’t wipe that smile off your face, I’m going to go crazy!”
This makes me grin even wider. “I work in a bar, smiling is part of the job.”
“Not that kind of smiling.” She scowls at me. “You haven’t stopped smiling like that since your night of debauchery.”
I roll my eyes and poke my tongue out at her. “It was just sex and besides, the one-night stand was your idea.”
The crowd is slowly dwindling and I start clearing and wiping tables as the last of the customers make their way to the door.
I can’t help the way my eyes follow them to the door, almost as though I’m expecting someone else to come in.
But nobody does.
I know I’m looking for him, before our night he used to come in at this time nearly every night but I haven’t seen him since.
I guess that’s not surprising but still and little ache of disappointment makes me frown at the empty doorway.
I don’t regret the night we spent together but I miss seeing him, miss his flirty smile and deep smooth voice.
Maybe I should have agreed to a date rather than just a one-night fling?
Memories of the pain and humiliation of my last few failed relationships drive that silly longing from my system.
Just the thought of walking in on my stranger with another woman, maybe his pretty young secretary, sends a spike of pain through my chest.
I’d rather be alone forever then face that again.
At least when I think about the men in my life, there’s now one good experience, one sweet memory to make me smile and sigh.
“Wow, you really liked him, didn’t you?” Gemma says, coming up beside me and taking the tray of cups from my hands.
“I can’t explain it. We just connected.” I sigh. “I’m glad you talked me into going with him, but I think one-night stands aren’t for me.”
“You’re an emotional sexer,” she says, nodding at her own cleverness and I can’t help chuckling. “You need to find a real man who makes you feel the way he did. They’re not all jerks, you know.”
But even as I nod my understanding, my mind runs the memories like a show-reel behind my eyes.
Moans of pleasure between the thighs of another woman, words of love and lust whispered into the ears of someone that wasn’t me, a look of hatred and disgust followed by a backhand that left me sobbing in shame on the floor.
My back straightens and my shoulders tense.
Taking the tray from Gemma, I head towards the kitchen.
“I don’t need a man to make me whole,” I state firmly.
I can feel her concerned gaze following me out but I refuse to meet it.
I know she cares about me, worries about me, but she could never understand how I feel.
I might be able to manage the occasional one-night stand with a stranger but I’ll never trust another man with my heart again.
The band is amazing on Thursday night and Gemma and I exchange a nod over the crowd as she pours drinks and I move around the tables.
They’re just a cover band but the music is tight and they’re playing all the crowd favorites.
They’re belting out a big finish to a punkie pop version of a modern song when the door at the front swings open and my stranger steps back into the noisy bar.
My world halts.
It’s like everything stops and it’s just me and him standing opposite one another.
I watch as his gaze flicks around the bar and my breath catches in my throat when he spies me.
His face is expressionless, guarded, and I bite my lip at the sharp sting of guilt.
I don’t know why I feel guilty, it’s not like we had anything more than a one night stand.
It was just sex.
Incredible mind-blowing sex, but just sex all the same.
We didn’t even exchange names… Of course that was my request and then I just snuck out after.
Should I have left a note?
Damn, Gemma would have known what to do.
“Lady? Are those our drinks?” A voice from the table I’d been serving brings me back to the present.
“Yes, sorry,” I say smiling and placing the orders down in front of the two guys and two girls at the table.
When I look back at my stranger, he’s taken a seat in my section and I make my way over.
“Hi,” I say. “What can I get you tonight?”
And by the way, thanks for the amazing sex.
“Scotch and ice,” he replies. “Looks like I managed to catch the band. Must be my lucky night.”
“Yeah…” I say, smiling too brightly, but my mind goes blank and I can’t think of anything else to say. “I’ll um – I’ll go get your sex.”
“Sex?” his eyebrows rise.
Damn it. I can’t even talk anymore.
“Drink. I mean drink. I’ll go and get your drink.”
I turn on my heel and rush away.
What’s he doing here?
I didn’t think I’d ever see him again but here he is, sitting in my section.
When I get to the bar, Gemma gives me a meaningful look.
“What’s he doing here?” she smiles.
“I don’t know. How would I know?” I throw a glance over my shoulder to find him staring right back at me. “I think he’s mad because I just left. But I thought that was what you did after a one-night stand. Isn’t that what they guy always does?”
She lets out a scoff. “Keyword there, girl, is that the guy likes to be the one to leave first. It’s some kind of ego thing.” She looks over my shoulder at him and then back at me, rolling her eyes. “I say screw him. It’s about time a few guys felt what it’s like to be the one left behind to wake up alone. You are forbidden to apologize.”
I can’t help wondering if Gemma had misunderstood some of her first one-night stands.
Her tone is so scornful and I feel bad for not knowing.
We’ve been best friends forever but there were a bunch of years when she was out here all-alone and we nearly never talked during those years.
I make a mental note to be a better friend before grabbing the tray and delivering the scotch and ice.
The next hour is so busy that I don’t have time to dwell on my stranger’s return to the bar but he’s never far from my mind. As I take orders and serve drinks, he stays in his seat, but doesn’t try to talk to me or get my attention.
When the band starts packing up he stands too, leaving money on the table before disappearing out the door without even a glance in my direction.
He just walks out, without a word.
I frown after him.
What the hell?
All men are bastards.
Is he trying to make a point?
Teach me a lesson?
Shaking my head, I almost burst out laughing. He’s just like every other man I’ve been with.
It’s all just a big game to them.
Well I’ll be damned if I play his stupid power game.
I’ve played before and been hurt enough times to know the rules now.
It’s like a weight is lifted off my chest.
I was right; he’s no different than the others.
And I’m not disappointed either…
Maybe a little.
I make my way to his seat and grab the glass and money before wiping the table.
My fingers grasp something thicker, like cardboard and I gasp when I realize that under the money is a white card identical to the one he gave me last week.
My heart thumps in my chest and my fingers tremble as I read the card…
Four Seasons: Room 281
Without much thought, I arrive at his door but when he opens it, the room is completely dark.
I try to back up but before I can take more than one step back he reaches out, grabs my wrist and yanks me inside.
He pulls me in then swings the door shut before crushing me against the hard wood.
“Hello, Hannah,” he murmurs into my ear and I gasp.
“How do you know my name?”
Had he been checking up on me?
“I overheard that other waitress talking to you.”
I suddenly feel very silly.
It’s not an unreasonable thing to want to know my name, considering we’ve slept together and apparently planned to repeat the experience.
“Do I get to know your name?”
“It was never a secret. I didn’t think you wanted to know.”
He pulls my arms up over my head and plants them against the door, holding my wrists in place with one of his large hands.
“I want to know now,” I say and whimper when he grazes his lips down the line of my throat before kissing a trail back up to my jaw, the corner of my mouth, then back down.
“Please tell me.”
“I’ll think about it,” he says.
His fingers work deftly at my buttons in the dark, pulling my blouse free of my skirt and cupping my breast through my lace bra. His hand squeezes my breast just tightly enough to make me gasp and I can feel my wetness dripping into my panties as my nipple pushes against his palm.
His mouth hovers a bare inch from mine and we’re breathing each other’s air.
My lips quiver with anticipation and I lick them, silently begging him to close the distance.
Just the memory of his mouth on mine, the electricity that shot between us every time they met in passionate kissing makes my whole body tremble with heat and arousal.
He reaches down and around me and unzips my skirt so it drops to the floor at my feet.
“Take me to the bedroom,” I whisper, but he ignores me, instead exploring the curve of my thighs and hips, the dip of my waist, then going back up to cup my breast.
“I adore these,” he says. “So big and round and soft. Exactly what breasts should feel like. Real breasts, not that fake bullshit.”
He dips and takes my nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the sensitive bud through the lace of my bra.
“If this is all the time I have, I’m going to worship these gorgeous breasts,” he moans.
I can’t help giggling.
My last boyfriend had made no secret of the fact that he preferred small breasts, once even suggesting I could get surgery.
But the way this man is cupping, squeezing, licking, and sucking shows me that maybe not all men are the same.
Suddenly my hands are free and he drops to his knees in front of me. His mouth grazes over my belly, pausing to lap at my sensitive belly button before kissing lower.
“Stop, you don’t have to…”
“The door is behind you if you want me to stop.”
His words are gruff, his voice husky, but there’s a sharpness to his tone that makes me bite my lip.
Is he mad at me?
When I don’t offer any further objection, he lifts my thigh and rests it on his shoulder. I have to grab the sides of the doorframe to keep my balance but there’s not time to think about falling because right away he starts lapping at my panties.
He grabs the elastic, twists, and seconds later there’s a snap and my panties fall to the ground.
Did he just rip my panties off?
The touch of his mouth on my bare flesh answers the question and all thoughts focus on one indisputable fact.
His mouth and tongue are the best things to ever touch my pussy.
“Oh my…” I don’t even realize I’ve spoken out loud till I feel him chuckle against my thigh.
Holding my thigh in place he places hot lingering kisses from my knee all the way to where I’m aching for him again.
He licks his tongue from my tight slit to my clit, and again, and again.
It’s like he knows exactly how to give me what I need and drive me crazy all at the same time.
He just keeps going, his tongue and mouth hot and eager on my sensitive flesh.
His fingers grasp me, holding me in place with a grip that is almost painful, and he groans, his whole body vibrating as he works me harder.
It is almost like he was enjoying it.
The other men I’ve been with made no secret of the fact that they didn’t enjoy using their mouths, and since I didn’t seem to like it much either, I never complained.
Of course, it never felt like this!
All too soon I can feel that familiar sweet build in my belly, tightening the muscles in my thighs, making my fingers grip the doorframe that much tighter until...
My toes curl and I feel my climax rushing through my veins, draining me of all thought and reason.
By the time I’m floating back to Earth, I realize that I’m in my stranger’s arms and he’s carrying me into the bedroom.
He places me gently on the bed but doesn’t follow.
“Get on your hands and knees,” he says gruffly. “I want you from behind.”
With a rush of excitement I do as I’m told, rolling onto my front and pulling myself up on my hands and knees.
My whole body is trembling and tingling with anticipation and I can hear him moving in the darkness behind me.
Cloth slides over cloth, footsteps pad over carpet, the bed dips and my breath catches.
A mouth brushes over my bottom, up my back, and as his kisses move higher up my spine, I feel fingers caressing over my thighs.
“Your skin is so warm and soft,” he murmurs. “It’s like brushing my lips over heated silk.”
I want to tell him how amazing his mouth feels on me, I want to promise that he can touch me, taste me any time.
I want to say his name, moan his name, scream his name, and not knowing it feels like a hollow in my chest, yawning dark and empty.
“Please tell me your name,” I whisper but he chuckles against my back and instead settles his hands on my hips, holds me fast and eases his large cock into my eager opening.
“Yes, Hannah,” he grunts, his fingers digging into my hips as he forces more and of his girth into me. “You’re even tighter than last time.”
It’s all I can do to grip the sheets and keep my balance as he takes me long and slow from behind.
I bite my lip and moan in delight as he pulls his incredible cock out and out and out, before sliding back in and in and in.
Slowly, agonizingly, the rhythm gets faster, smoother.
I can feel his whole body trembling with the control he has over his body.
He’s trying to hold on, trying not to hurt me; he’s holding back.
“Please,” I beg, getting a tighter grip on the sheets. “Don’t hold back, Take me, take me the way you want. I need you to…” My worlds dissolve into a shocked cry as he suddenly pulls back only to slam back inside, hard, rough, my delighted, “Yes!” fueling his fire.
My world is lost to a wave of passion and arousal.
My stranger holds me in place with an iron grip and takes me hard and fast the way he wants, the way I want.
I’ve only ever read about sex like this.
I never believed I might be a participant, and that I’d love it.
I need his name!
I need to tell him, show him that he’s the only one who makes me feel like this, who’s ever made my body tremor and bow beneath his hands and mouth.
His pounding slows and he’s taking me with long smooth strokes.
The sudden shift in sensation is pure bliss and I mew and purr as his mouth kisses a hot wet trail down my back.
His hand loosens on my hip and he slides his fingers around to my front, dips between my folds and settles either side of my sensitive clit.
Holding himself deep he circles his talented fingers on my clit, all the while his mouth kisses and nips at the tender flesh of my back.
Then he’s moving again and I’m flying.
So much sensation.
His smell, his growling moans and muttered words.
I’m cocooned within his embrace.
His arms wrap around me, his fingers work my clit, his cock plunging over and over.
All at once, my toes curl and my world explodes.
Waves of molten bliss wash over me and somewhere in the distance my lover lets out a strangled yell and stiffens.
We tremble and moan together for what feels like hours till we collapse in a boneless heap.
He rolls me onto my back and kisses me, his mouth wide and breathless as though he can’t bear to stop touching me.
I want to kiss him back, but I’m drained so I just lay there smiling against his kisses, feeling giddy.
It’s hours later that I wake in the dark, the heavy warm weight of my lover beside me.
I don’t even know him and yet I feel closer and more connected to this man then any other person I’ve ever encountered in my life.
How is that even possible?
I roll to face him and I can just make out his large form and the edges of his handsome face.
I want to stay.
I want to wake up with this man.
Maybe we could have breakfast and get to know each other outside the bed.
We may have nothing in common; we might have everything in common.
What if we really like each other?
A nasty memory slices through my imaginings.
Walking in to find Karl and the slutty waitress.
The mixture of shock and confusion quickly became a wave of pain and humiliation.
I was so stupid, a stupid little girl playing at love, following silly dreams.
And it was all bullshit.
While I’d been falling in love and making plans, he’d been banging everything that moved. I was just one name on a long list of women he was bedding.
Never again will I let a man have that amount of power over me.
I carefully climb out of the bed, grab my clothes and tiptoe out…