One Night Stand

"One more shot."

 

 

Moreau had been dealing with bad press all day. Her ex-boyfriend had unilaterally made the choice to end their relationship. She had been asking for a definitive reason since that sad moment, but Froy and the man's angry gaze were clearly refusing to talk.

 

 

What an irony. Tomorrow was her mother's wedding day, and Moreau had no idea what the groom looked like. They were not introduced. Her mother was planning a silent necessity. There was even so much other pressure to leave serious blotches that it felt like they were punching holes in Moreau's heart.

 

 

She was almost desperate to figure things out. Moments ago, she decided to go to a bar with the intention of calming down. The striking red dress was perfect on Moreau's slim body. Apparently, in front of the bar counter, Moreau was sitting alone. Staring at a few empty glasses—the wine was gone. Thus, her throat was like ashes with the remains of a fire. It was completely barren. Moreau never thought that she would get drunk so soon. 

 

 

Yes, she was getting drunk.

 

 

Someone helped her to take a step. However, Moreau never thought she would face a moment with a man. A clay hand touched her hip, until the masculine scent, along with the pungent smell of alcohol, slowly drifted in like a pleasant shower. 

 

 

The most extreme part of the night after the car stopped at a tall building and they passed the elevator... was the faint sound of the bed rattling. The top of Moreau's head sounded the danger siren. Unfortunately, she was helpless when the touch of someone's mouth lapped intimately at her lips. Something felt warm. Moreau squirmed as rough fingertips moved to lower the dress straps at the shoulder line, a move that indirectly gave the man—whoever he was—the opportunity to strip the red fabric with foam at the bust into a thick roll at the hips. 

 

 

"Stop it!"

 

 

Moreau let out a long moan, feeling the steady grip and the wet moving tongue around her breasts. Some instinct she had tried to take control by giving in to the thrusts for sure. However, Moreau was still helpless and instead froze when she found fine-textured hair covering her knuckles.

 

 

Who is this man?

 

 

She wondered in confusion. She squirmed again as she faced the last steep part. The hand had ripped through the red satin, leaving behind so much Moreau couldn't escape. She looked up desperately to feel the man move. Perhaps stripping her own body of its fabric. 

 

Dizziness overtook Moreau. She gasped when she encountered a warm embrace. While the light kisses in the hollow of her neck, there are traces of unbearable heat. Moreau's hands unconsciously touched the stranger's broad shoulders. Her legs were spread wide apart. Something large and solid was trying to squeeze into the moist crevice of her body.

 

Moreau winced. The deep ache slowly made the man stop. Only briefly, then the searing passion of wild need took over. Tentative urges filled Moreau's body. She wanted to curse herself. What a fool to have succumbed to a man she did not know. The man's tough side was even more uncontrollable. Moreau felt... she was almost drowning after being slowly crushed, then shaking under the confinement of the burly body. Her vision began to grow blurry, and the last thing Moreau could think of was regretting that in one night she had done a patch of regression.