Just One Orgasm!

The rain followed her all the way to the hotel. She had mindlessly walked around the city absent mindedly.

The rain clung to the loose strands escaping her ponytail, and dampened the sleeves of her blouse until they hugged her wrists.

She didn’t remember deciding to come here.

Her feet had simply kept moving. She could go anywhere but home at the moment.

The revolving doors whispered open as she stepped inside. Warmth met her first, then light.

The lobby gleamed beneath towering crystal chandeliers, their reflections spilling across polished marble floors. Soft piano music drifted through the air, wrapping itself around quiet conversations and the gentle clink of champagne glasses.

Everything looked expensive.

She stood there for a moment longer than she should have, clutching her handbag against her side.

Someone laughed nearby, and a couple walked past her hand in hand. The woman rested her head against the man’s shoulder.

Emilia looked away.

The bar sat beyond the lobby. It was dimmer, quieter, and shielded from the rest of the world.

Not thinking twice, she walked towards it.

....

He noticed her before she noticed the bar.

Beautiful women walked through the Crescent Hotel every day. He noticed her because heartbreak had a posture.

Adrian Ashford lowered the file in his hand.

The meeting he’d just left had gone precisely as expected.

He’d spent the last three hours listening to men explain numbers that refused to make sense.

He’d come to the bar for fifteen minutes of silence before returning upstairs.

Instead, a girl walked in carrying the kind of sadness that quieted a room without saying a word.

She hesitated just inside the entrance.

Her eyes travelled across the bottles behind the counter as though she’d never seen so many in one place.

Then she chose the stool furthest from everyone else.

"The strongest thing you have." Her voice barely carried across the counter.

The bartender looked at her, then at the rain still glistening in her hair.

"Tough day?" The bartender asked.

She smiled tiredly. "It ended."

He didn’t ask another question.

A glass appeared before her.

She stared at the amber glass, as though expecting it to answer something.

Somewhere else, Adrian found himself watching her secretly. She wrapped both hands around the glass without drinking from it.

Her fingers were small.

A silver ring sat on her right thumb.

She kept twisting it over and over and over again.

Then finally, she lifted the whiskey, and took one sip from it. Her face tightened immediately.

She almost coughed, but she swallowed, determined. His mouth curved up slightly.

He could see that she hated it. Yet, she drank again.

Emilia could feel someone looking at her. The eyes on her were heavy enough that warmth slowly climbed up the back of her neck.

She ignored it, and took another sip.

The whiskey burned less this time. Or perhaps she was beginning to welcome pain that made sense.

She brushed damp hair away from her face, and it immediately fell back again.

Annoyed, she sighed. Then the bartender placed another napkin beside her. She frowned. "I didn’t ask for one."

"You didn’t." A man’s voice replied to her.

His voice came out low, and smooth. He sounded close enough that she turned.

He stood beside the empty stool.

He wore charcoal instead of black, and the jacket had been removed. His sleeves were folded neatly below his elbows.

Emilia noticed that there was no wedding ring in his finger. His watch caught the light as he rested one hand against the back of the chair.

Older. Much older than the men she’d dated.

He looked established, and comfortable inside his own skin. His eyes met hers, and neither of them looked away.

"You can sit." She permitted him.

One corner of his mouth lifted. "Thank you."

He sat. Not close enough to invade her space, but close enough that she could smell cedarwood and something darker she couldn’t name.

He didn’t speak again.

The silence settled naturally between them comfortably. The bartender placed another whiskey before him without asking.

He gave the smallest nod.

He lifted the glass, and took one slow sip.

Emilia noticed he made no grimace, or hesitation. She looked back at hers, and suddenly she felt childish.

She reached for the drink again, and took another careful sip.

This time, she caught him watching her hand, noticing the way she held the glass. When their eyes met again, he smiled broadly.

The corner of his eyes softened, and heat bloomed unexpectedly beneath her skin. She looked away first.

Minutes passed, and neither interrupted them.

Emilia rested her elbow lightly against the polished wood.

Without meaning to, she exhaled. She let out a long breath she’d apparently been holding since the afternoon.

His head turned ever so slightly.

A damp strand of hair slipped across her cheek again, and she tucked it behind her ear.

It fell straight back. She frowned. It happened a third time.

This time, a deliberate hand moved before she expected it. He moved slowly, giving her every chance to pull away.

His fingers brushed the loose strand, and nothing more. He gathered it gently, and tucked it behind her ear.

Then let his hand fall away.

It lasted perhaps two seconds. Yet every nerve beneath her skin awakened at once.

He hadn’t lingered, caressed, or crossed a line. It was infuriatingly gentlemanly.

She looked at him.

They held each other’s gaze.

Neither of them spoke.

Yet somehow, they both rose at the same time, as though silence itself had made the decision for them.

"Follow me," he said with a quiet certain command.

Emilia should have refused. She knew she should. She was done with men. However when she made that decision earlier today, she never included the name before her.

Just one orgasm wouldn’t hurt.

Her feet carried her after him before reason could catch up. They crossed the hushed corridor without another word.

The carpet softened every footstep until the entire hotel seemed to disappear around them.

He stopped before a suite at the end of the hall. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a keycard and slid it through the reader.

A soft green light flashed, and the lock clicked. He opened the door and stepped aside rather than entering first.

"You don’t have to come in," he said, meeting her eyes. "If you walk away now, I’ll never stop you."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!