Hannah

HANNAH

AGREEING to hook up with a complete stranger from a club an hour after meeting isn't one of the smartest decisions I've ever made.

And neither is letting him book the hotel. The Ritz, I heard him say on the phone. Perhaps I heard him wrong. The club was deafening. But if I didn't... that's the most expensive hotel in the city. And he booked a suite.

For a one-night stand.

A privacy wall separates us from the driver as we sit in the backseat of a spacious vehicle. I take the middle, with my knee brushing against Damien's thigh.

What were you thinking, girl? Are you trying to end up on Dateline? I imagine Sofia lecturing me after she finds out I ditched the club without saying goodbye.

Who has their own personal driver, who shows up in five minutes to pick us up outside a club? Sterling didn't have a driver. Why am I only now asking myself these things?

More intelligent and sensible questions flood my brain, but when a strong hand brushes against my knee, all the thoughts exit the same way they came in.

You're doomed. Might as well enjoy it.

A nervous air enters my space, and all my boldness from the club seems to fizzle out. I should say something. Anything. Because the way he's looking at me is making my heart beat faster by the second.

It then occurs to me that Damien hasn't asked me my name.

Maybe it doesn't matter to him.

A sinking feeling pools in my gut, one I shouldn't be feeling. We agreed this would be a one-time thing, so what does it matter if he knows anything about me?

But I cave, anyway.

"I'm Hannah, by the way." A nervous laugh passes through my lips. "Mmm. Hannah." Oh god. The way he says my name causes heat to

shoot right between my legs. "A beautiful name, but I thought you were being someone else tonight?"

"I am—Hannah's being different." I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but still feeling silly. He probably doesn't understand. I'm not trying to be someone else. I'm pretending I'm different, someone who isn't afraid of taking what they really want.

"Is she now? Be careful. Pretending is risky business. You might discover you like that version of yourself. Or, pretend too often, and you'll become the very thing you've been playing."

A lump forms in my throat, but I say nothing. I only stare at him, dumbfounded that a borderline stranger is speaking such words to me. He doesn't know the first thing about me.

Reaching a hand behind his head, my lips part when he tugs at the string of his mask. Anticipation builds inside me, not because I'm wondering if he'll be attractive or not, but because I know he will be.

The mask passes from sight, unveiling him as more intense, with a hardened exterior. But it's worse than I thought. He's not just attractive— he's devastating.

"Your turn," he says with a cocky grin, seeming to read my reaction.

He leans into me, reaching around my head. I breathe in his musk, my eyes fluttering as my mask comes loose and falls to my lap.

Time seems to slow to a leisurely beat, and then all I can hear is the rain pattering against the roof of the car.

He cups my jaw, so near I can hear his jagged exhale. "Beautiful." His jaw tightens in awe, almost as if he's in pain, beholding some prized painting.

Before I can respond, he captures my lips between his, and my eyelids fall under their own accord. The kiss surprises me. His lips are soft and his touch tender, with a promise that I could end our night short if I wanted. That it could only be this.

Sweet. Flirtatious.

No regrets, the safe side of me warns.

But I don't pull away, melting into his touch and widening my mouth. He groans and tightens his hold on my jaw, his restraint withering as he bruises his tongue to my lips. Another hand sinks into my hair, before mine flies to his chest, deepening our kiss. When a small moan escapes me, it seems to be his undoing.

Skin barrels into mine, my back sinking into the leather seats with his waist pressing in between my legs. When the hard bulge in his pants rubs me right where I want it to, I moan again.

He lifts my chin, delving his lips to my neck as he grinds his erection into me. His teeth scrape against my delicate flesh, sparking a needy pain before he soothes it with his tongue. My body grows hot, and I try to nurse the throbbing sensation between my thighs by straddling my legs around his waist.

More friction. I need more...

Collecting both my wrists in his hand, he pins them above my head. I resist, but don't budge. A satisfied look blooms across his face, before he licks from the base of my throat to my jaw. I squirm, failing to stifle my desperate cries.

"Mmm," he murmurs in my ear. "So responsive."

He lowers himself, licking again, slower this time. I buckle hard, letting out a whimper, and his hold on my wrists tightens.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?"

Blood pulsates loudly in my ears, and I'm practically panting by the time a quiet knock sounds against the door.

His lips trail across the column of my neck once more. "Almost have you all to myself." Staring into my eyes, he sits back up and fixes his tie. Mirroring his actions, I bat my hair flat and adjust the bottom of my dress.

When Damien opens his door and exits, the grand hotel entrance comes into view, its lights shining bright in the darkness.

"The Ritz Carlton, miss." John holds the door, offering his palm to me.

"Thank you." I grab his hand, hardly able to look him in the eye. The lust coursing through my veins is a living, palpable thing, threatening to expose my dirty secrets to everyone around if they only look at me long enough.

Damien holds his arm out to me, which I take.

We stride to the front entrance, his steps long and powerful. The sidewalk is busy for a Sunday night, and several heads turn in our direction. He is quite important looking, with that suit of his practically molding to his skin.

Wearing such a provocative dress, they must think I'm his plaything. But that's exactly what I am tonight. The corners of my mouth lift as we depart the revolving doors, entering the hotel.

Holy. Shit.

All my conscious thoughts of becoming someone else tonight zip away, eddying from my mind as I stare in wonder.

The lobby is a masterpiece of white-and-black marble. Two-story, vaulted ceilings provide room for wrought-iron balconies and a gold chandelier. A group of men and women clothed in business attire pass us by without a glance, briefcases and purses in hand.

Damien motions to a collection of chairs. "Go look pretty for me. I'll get our key."

His warm body leaves mine, and I feel like my lifeline strips from me, never having been to such a place.

Steadily, I walk to a mass of gold-cushioned chairs surrounding a flower fixture, my heels clacking in my wake. Sinking into the plush padding, I stare at Damien's large frame facing the front entrance, his steps long and powerful. The sidewalk is busy for a Sunday night, and several heads turn in our direction. He is quite important looking, with that suit of his practically molding to his skin.

Wearing such a provocative dress, they must think I'm his plaything. But that's exactly what I am tonight. The corners of my mouth lift as we depart the revolving doors, entering the hotel.

Holy. Shit.

All my conscious thoughts of becoming someone else tonight zip away, eddying from my mind as I stare in wonder.

The lobby is a masterpiece of white-and-black marble. Two-story, vaulted ceilings provide room for wrought-iron balconies and a gold chandelier. A group of men and women clothed in business attire pass us by without a glance, briefcases and purses in hand.

Damien motions to a collection of chairs. "Go look pretty for me. I'll get our key."

His warm body leaves mine, and I feel like my lifeline strips from me, never having been to such a place.

Steadily, I walk to a mass of gold-cushioned chairs surrounding a flower fixture, my heels clacking in my wake. Sinking into the plush padding, I stare at Damien's large frame facing the front desk, his hand burying into his pants pocket.

Just play it cool, Hannah. No need to get attached. He's just some rich guy. That doesn't mean he's good in bed.

MY BACK SLAMS against the glass wall, Damien’s breath hot on my neck.

"Lift up your dress," he commands, his thigh pressing between my legs.

Floor 5.

My eyes glue to the elevator, watching in anxiety as we climb the floors. It only takes one click of that button on the other end, and we'll open on some random floor to a potentially happy voyeur.

He sucks against my soft flesh, and I grind against his leg, the slickness inside my panties heightening the sensation.

Floor 10.

"What if someone catches us?" I pant.

Floor 13.

"I don't care." He turns my face back to him, away from the numbers. "I'm not going to tell you again."

My heart lurches in excitement at his tone, and I snag the skirt of my dress, lifting it above my waist to reveal my lace panties.

Heat sizzles behind his eyes, and he hoists me up from behind my thighs, setting me onto the wide handlebars with my heels dangling in the air. The metal is shocking, shooting coldness through my bare ass. Through the mirrors lining the elevator, I watch him bend to his knees before me.

"Spread your legs," he growls, and I widen them, both hands gripping the golden bars. "Good girl."

My heart races, and I fight the urge to look at the elevator doors. His thumb brushes against my panty fabric, and my legs involuntarily jerk.

"So wet for me." He pushes it to the side, exposing my flesh. "Now watch while I feast." His head delves between my legs, immediately suctioning my clit.

My back lifts off the mirror, and both my hands shoot into the depths of his dark hair. "Oh my god." Pleasure radiates through my entire body, each a pulse of heavenly euphoria.

His pace quickens, the butt of his tongue flicking my clit between his teeth in expert strokes. My moans fill the space, and my grip loosens on his hair. Lifting my head to the ceiling, I arch my back and grip the bars tighter. His sucking sounds echo against the walls, and he eats me like a starving, depraved man.

Strong hands clutch my thighs as he pins me in place, swirling his tongue again.

"Damien..." His teeth scrape against my clit. "Oh!"

Any shame and all anxiety fizzle to nothing as I grind against his mouth, each of my thrusts finishing on a sharp cry. He groans in response, the sound reverberating against my pussy. I grind harder, my muscles beginning to tighten, chasing the edge of pleasure I crave.

Someone could come in here. That door could open right now to a complete fucking stranger, and I wouldn't want him to stop.

His pace slows, the friction against my clit lessening. My pussy throbs with aching need at that, and I suck my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Not yet." He licks from the bottom to the apex of my sex, sending a shiver down my spine. "You'll have to earn that." I can't stop my legs from quivering in the air, and I let out a frustrated moan. He smirks knowingly before he licks once more.

Ding.

My heart plummets, betraying my newfound bravery. Whipping my head to scour the numbers lining the wall, air whooshes from my lips when I see what floor we're on.

Floor 70. We're at the top.

I peer past the elevator doors, surprise tickling the back of my neck. A single black door.

Shouldn't there be a hallway to other rooms?

Damien rises to his feet, and so do I. He exits, pulling the key card from his wallet. I look to my left, then right. No hallway.

That can't be right. The whole floor can't be for a single roo—

The door zings open, Damien holding it for me, his eyes a smoldering flame. "After you."

My steps slow, scanning the room. With a modern design, the space is huge. I was expecting a bed, a bathroom and maybe a sitting area. But this room has that and then some.

A full, state-of-the-art kitchen lines the near wall, and a sitting area with a rounded green couch positions in the very center. Windows line the perimeter, giving a stunning, one-eighty view of Manhattan in the night. The clouds seem to have cleared, leaving the moon casting dark shadows against the furniture.

Damien's body presses up against mine, seeping heat into my back. Shifting my hair behind my shoulder, he runs his hands down the length of my arms.

"You said... " Anticipation makes my heart thump. He's so near it's hard to think. "I have to earn it. How do I do that?"

"Be specific, Hannah." His breath kisses my ear. "Earn what, exactly?"

His hands creep down my torso, the light touch meant to tease. My legs shoot together, loving the friction it provides me. He already made me so wet in the elevator, that I don't know how much more torture I can take.

"How do I earn my... release?"

He moves fast, lifting the rear of my dress, squeezing my ass cheek hard. "Try again."

A breath shoots out of me, followed by surprising lust.

Fingers tangling in the locks of my hair, he drags downward and lifts my chin high. "Try again." His voice is dark, laced with a promise of repercussions.

I hesitate before he squeezes again, so roughly this time there must be a mark.

"Orgasm!" I moan out, my hips rocking of their own accord. My pussy throbs so hard it's almost painful. "H-how do I earn my orgasm?"

"Such a filthy girl, asking a question like that." His free hand reaches over and palms my pussy roughly. I lurch back on a cry, the pressure too much. "And grinding those hips of yours?"

I fall back into him, bathing in his demanding aura. The sheer way he handles me is unlike anything I've experienced, and right now, I'm willing to do anything he tells me to.

He tsks with his tongue, wiggling his hand to separate my thighs. "That won't do."

With the friction lost, I nearly whine. "Tell me. I'll do anything."

Releasing his grip, he walks over to the couch and drops down, never breaking our stare. He leans back, propping his elbows on the back of the couch. "Show me why you deserve it."

A sudden shock jolts me. He's expecting something, and I think back to the way I danced at the club before Sterling. Before I knew who it was I was pleasing.

It's as if Sterling stole that fantasy from me, the heat of the moment I was feeling. And now I can take it back, but with the right man. The right somebody. No strings. One night, I can feel the power of truly seducing a man. A powerful man, it seems, maybe more powerful than Sterling.

Satisfaction burns its way through me and need dominates my thoughts as I slip my dress strap over my shoulder. Damien's eyes seep into mine, and I hold his gaze. The other glides over my skin before I peel the top of my dress down towards my bare breasts.

I slide it down an inch.

And then another, slower.

Shadows paint his face. Even in the darkness of the room, I can read the

anticipation of his features. He removes his suit coat and unzips his pants, and I try my best not to halt my movements. With my nipples peaking hard against the silk, I stop just before releasing them.

“Show me," he growls, unbuttoning his white-collared shirt as the impressive bulge in his gray boxers seems to twitch. With his chest entirely exposed, his tie dangles low in front of abs so defined I can make them out in the darkness.

Holy—

Losing control, I shove my dress downward. The cloth drops, pooling at my feet when my breasts bounce with the motion. I stand breathless, in nothing but a black thong and stilettos.

Noticing his boxers, the tip of his cock peeks out the top before he slides them down, exposing his full length that has me swallowing roughly. "Come here," he grits out, on the edge of his restraint.

I meander his way, making to sit next to him, but he wraps a massive hand around his girth. He pumps down as his eyes snap from the front of my sex to my face. "No. On the coffee table."

I lower myself, my knees grating against the glass as I face him. His cock looks enormous at this angle, with a large vein running along the bottom.

"Touch yourself."

Yes.

My hand shoots between my thighs, my sex whimpering for pleasure. I

graze my soaked panties, pleasure radiating through my legs—

"Not there," he growls. "Your nipples—pinch them."

I open my mouth, but then think better than to voice my protest.

Snapping both nipples between my pointer fingers and thumbs, I squeeze. The sensation is powerful, sending sparks of lust throughout my whole body.

"Harder."

I do as he commands, my touch nearing pain as a moan flies from my mouth. My legs tighten, but then I recall earlier. I spread my knees wide, holding the position, not allowing my thighs to rub.

"Eyes on me," he says, watching the evidence of my arousal drip down my thighs. "Yes. Now twist."

I rotate my fingers, soft whimpers falling from my lips as I now stare into his hungry eyes. Rotating the other way, I have to bite my lip to keep the sounds at bay.

Damien pumps slowly, his jaw locking in restraint. Pre-cum gathers on his tip, and I suddenly have the urge to have him in my mouth, to feel his

head thrusted into the back of my throat.

"Fuck, Hannah. Your body is fucking incredible."

His words inject confidence in me as I stand. Turning from him and

arching low, I clutch my panties and push them down. My ass in his face, I don't give him much longer to look as I whip around, facing him.

Standing tall on my heels, my pussy is slightly higher than his head. He sits up hastily, his mouth so close I can feel him exhale against my folds. When his tongue darts out in an abrupt swoop, I shiver, clutching his shoulders, as a violent shake ripples through me.

"Do you like that?" He peers up at me, lapping again.

I clutch my breasts, fingers squeezing firmly around my nipples. "Yes. Yes. Your tongue feels amazing." His licks grow more purposeful, and I'm lost in a blinding barrage of pleasure, grinding against his mouth. "So good... feels so good, so much better than—"

His fingers dig into my thighs, cutting my words short.

"Better than who?" His demeanor is so calm, it's alarming.

Oh, no. This is why you shouldn't blabber.

"Than... " My voice is almost a whisper, my pussy still throbbing. "Ster

—"

In a flash, he forces me low, my knees colliding with the carpet as my

heels come loose from my feet. Pinching my chin hard, he guides me to look up at the sheer sight of him. Shirtless, abs bulging underneath his loosened tie, and cock jutting upwards in front of his pants.

That's not going to fit. My mouth waters. Not in my mouth or—

His fingers knot through the tendrils of my hair, gripping harshly as he angles my head skyward, a single command on the tip of his tongue.

"Open."