The space between us becomes nonexistent when he turns sideways and his breath skims the shell of my ear. It takes everything in me not to go into flight mode, considering how much of an expert I am at that.
But not tonight.
Tonight is different.
“Like making you squirm.” The whisper of his words makes me shudder. It’s a full-body one that I can’t suppress, despite my attempts.
I don’t know where I get the courage to ask, “That’s all?”
“Oh, I can do so much more.” He licks the shell of my ear and I bite my tongue to suppress a moan.
Holy shit. It’s like I’m on an aphrodisiac. One touch and I melt. One touch and I’m wiggling and clenching my thighs in search of something. What, I have no clue.
Due to being hidden my whole life, everything feels heightened and unreal. As if I left my own body and I’m existing in a different reality.
Just like I planned for this night to be.
“How old are you?” His question is sensual, low-pitched, and makes me shudder again.
“Twenty-three,” I lie, because he looks to be in his early thirties and I don’t want to appear too young.
“Hmm.” There’s a vibration in his voice as his tongue lowers to the hollow of my throat. And holy hell, it’s like he licked my pussy, because it’s wet now. My pussy, not my neck.
Okay, maybe my neck, too, but it’s my core that’s throbbing for more.
As if knowing exactly what that does to me, he flicks his tongue across the same spot and bites down.
Oh, fuck.
I jam my legs shut, afraid that he’ll see how desperate I am for this. How much I need it before I disappear.
It’s my “fuck you” to the people who intended to use this part of me to marry me off to the first influential man who comes knocking on our door.
He continues his assault on my throat and his hand skims to my back, my bare back. His skin is similar to fire. A scorching one and he’s about to melt me with it, maybe scathe me, maybe drag me to the pits of hell.
“W-what about you?” I ask, assuming that’s what’s expected in these types of conversations.
Though this can hardly be called a conversation now that his fingers are toying with my butterfly pendant and my flesh at the same time.
“Twenty-eight.”
A shudder zips down my spine and it has less to do with his age and more to do with his touch and his voice. Seriously, no voice should be as sinfully attractive as his.
It’s like the devil’s—whispering and lulling me to my damnation.
“What’s your name?” His hot breaths against my throat and his possessive hold on my back send sparks through my whole body.
I’m tingling, throbbing, and aching for something I’ve never experienced.
Something I never thought was possible in my life.
“No…names,” I manage to say in an airy voice I didn’t think I was capable of.
“Why?” He bites down on a spot on my neck and it’s hard enough that I wince. It’s hard enough that I’m clenching my soaked thighs.
“Because anonymity is thrilling.”
I expect him to argue, to demand that he know my name, and I have a fake one for that, just in case, but he does something entirely different.
Something that makes my toes curl and my heart hammer.
He laughs, the sound low and sinister and so damn delicious against my neck. When he pulls back, his intense eyes have darkened. They’re amused now. Or maybe it’s sadism that I’m staring at.
Usually, I can’t maintain eye contact for more than a second, but I’m trapped in his.
I can’t look away.
I won’t.
Because there are words and phrases in that gaze. A book, maybe, and while I’m not able to delve into all of its pages and decrypt its code, I can at least try.
Trying is the first phase of anything.
But I can’t figure out the reason behind his reaction, so I ask, “Why are you laughing?”
“Because I just made a decision, beautiful.”
“Which is?”
“I’m going to fuck you.”
2
ANASTASIA
When I was young, I lived in a house surrounded by a forest where no one could enter or leave. It was far from other houses and I had to take trips through that forest with its tall trees and haunting sounds.
With time, I stopped thinking of the trees as ominous and embraced them. I embraced the forest and made it mystical, just like I embraced hiding in narrow places when Mom told me to.
I didn’t really like hiding, partially because I knew what would come after, but mostly because it suffocated me. However, I loved the forest. I loved having my white, witchlike hair in braids, wearing my pink dress dusted with glitter, and running throughout the green heaven.
I spoke to the trees and rocks because I thought I was in a fairy tale.
I thought I was like Wendy from Peter Pan and no one could find me, catch me, or hurt me.
It was my world and mine alone. I was hidden in Neverland and no one could touch me.
I was invincible.
Until I wasn’t.
Until the pirates found me and took me away, and Mom couldn’t come along.
That’s where I’ve been living for the past fifteen years, with the pirates, and tonight is the first time I’ve been able to escape.
Sure, I didn’t find my Peter Pan. Hell, he might as well be a devious version of Captain Hook. Sure, he probably won’t let me keep my fairy dust and will throw me back to where I came from, but at least I’m free.
I’m me.
Even if it’s for only one night.
And he said he’d fuck me. He decided it earlier when we were at the Black Moon bar. We’re not there now. We’re in a hotel, right beside the bar. It’s called Black Diamond.
That’s the most precious type of diamond and the men I live with deal in it, all around the globe. Not only is it profitable, but it also makes many others bow down in front of them.
I wonder if this British stranger would bow, too. If he’d dirty his Armani suit and mess up his perfect hair and lose his luxurious watch to the men in my life. Or maybe he’ll fight them.
The thought of him in a fight makes me shudder with a different type of arousal. I’ve been in a constant lusty haze since he sucked on my ears and neck and whispered in that hotter-than-sin voice of his.
Oh, and his accent. That’s the icing on the cake. It’s why I’m sure he’s in a different category than the men in my life. Their accent is different to his. Less sophisticated and more dangerous.
Though he might be dangerous, too, since he’s managed to do what none of the men I’ve lived around have even dreamed of.
He’s managed to have me.
Or he will soon.
The moment we step into the room, I take a deep breath to tell him this is a one-time thing, that like the no-names rule, it’ll be more thrilling if we never see each other again.
One fuck.
One moment.
And then it’s over.
But I don’t have the chance to utter any sound except for a gasp. Because the second the door closes, he whirls me around and his body pins me against it. His chest ripples against my spine and there’s something hard poking against the small of my back. Not something. It’s his erection, massive and ready, and holy shit, did it just twitch?