TRIANA

“You still look tense,” says the stranger. He raises his hand in surrender. “I mean no harm, I promise.”

Part of me really wants to believe him, and I guess it's because he looks hot, and his deep voice does something to my insides. I have a mixture of feelings standing before him.

Considering the world I've been raised in, I'm not supposed to believe anyone that easily. Anything could be a trap.

Then, why does it feel like I'm lowering my guard for him, just because he looks like an Adonis?

I don't know what’s going on with me right now. His whole being is confusing the hell out of me.

Maybe he has some type of charm. Or he's just a normal guest, and I'm the overthinker because of the world I've grown up in.

“What can I do to make you believe me?” The hot stranger speaks up, snapping me back to reality. I must have been silently staring at him for longer than I should, and from the smirk he's giving, he noticed it, and he's enjoying this.

“Then why would you follow me to the ladies' room?” I ask.

“Because I felt like crap for how I talked to you.”

“Oh, really?” I raise my brows.

“Yes,” he nods, his hands flying to his waist, and then he lets out another sigh. “I'm just going through something…”

“That's no excuse for bad behavior,” I cut him off.

“I know,” he agrees. “Which is why I felt the urge to instantly apologize. I felt like shit. I didn't mean to. I'm also here to admire your hard work and talent.”

“Really?” I squint my eyes. Part of me is starting to believe him, even though I know that I shouldn’t.

“Yeah. I've been following your work for a while, and woman, are you impressive?”

His compliment goes straight to my heart, and I find myself smiling.

“You have a beautiful smile too,” he adds, and that one goes straight to my stomach. I shouldn't be feeling butterflies because of a stranger, right?

Would you blame me, though? Have you seen the man saying those words?

However, that doesn't mean I should trust him. I shake my head to get out of my stupor and change my expression to a frown.

“Complements won't get you anywhere, Mister. You're still the same asshole who ruined my dress,” I say to him.

“Then let me help you clean it up,” he offers as he approaches closer again.

“Don't come near me,” I warn, pointing a finger, as if that's enough to threaten him.

Of course, he doesn't listen.

“I told you, I mean no harm.” He raises his hands for the second time.

“Are you armed?” I narrow my eyes, giving him a skeptical look.

“You can search,” he says, his hands still up.

“You think I wouldn’t do that?”

I start frisking him from the armpits to his chest…and wow.

This suit didn't do justice; he's hiding whole muscles in there. I'm tempted to keep touching his chest. I take the chance to unbutton the coat. While doing that, I steal a glance at him. He stares right back, with unmistakable lust in his eyes, which sends a wave of heat through my body. He is like a magnet, and I’m trying to resist the urge to move closer and closer to him.

I open his coat, revealing a black shirt that hugs him tight, showing his masculine and attractive body. My reaction must be obvious because he calls me out immediately.

“Enjoying the view?” He asks.

“What? No,” I quickly deny having been caught in the act. What's there not to enjoy? This man is a walking aphrodisiac. I'd stare at his body the whole day, even if it means paying hundreds of thousands. Or millions.

I search him downwards and find nothing to make me worry.

“See? You're just being paranoid for nothing,” he says.

“Well,” I shrug. “When you're dealing with an asshole, you have to be.”

“Then let me help you clean up the mess I made,” he says, taking out a handkerchief.

“That won't help. I'll need to get another dress,” I tell him.

“At least let me try first,” he insists, making the handkerchief wet with the tap water.

And just like that, I lower my guard. It feels wrong. My father would probably kill me if he heard this story. But this man does something to me that I can't explain.

My insides tingle at the thought of him touching me. The front part of my dress is wet and clinging to my skin. If he adds more water, it will make it worse. But the man seems determined. So, I let him do as he pleases.

I shouldn't have let him proceed, because as he wipes my dress, trying to get off the stain, I feel a spark. The material of the dress is silk. Being wet, it's almost as if he's touching my skin.

His touches aren't direct to my skin, but they ignite a certain fire in my body I haven’t felt in a while. I don’t know how that’s possible when he’s using cold water.

I'm standing still, looking down at him. He starts with my stomach. Wipes it slowly, and then goes down to my waist. I feel him graze the waistline of my panties with his handkerchief. The more he touches me, the deeper the sensation. And I’m suddenly yearning for more. All my senses have been blocked, and all my focus is on him and his fingers.

He crouches so he can have better access to the part where the dress touches my thighs. He's gentle in how he wipes off the stains, taking his time. It’s almost as if he’s testing my patience, and I think I’m on the verge of losing it.

He glances up at me, and from that position, I can see the lust in his eyes that mirrors my own. I shouldn't be feeling this, but I can't control it. I picture him pushing up my dress, and I think of spreading my legs apart to give him access to my center. The part that is now throbbing with need. The imagination of him fucking me with his tongue makes me throw my head backwards as I sigh.

My body is on fire. Again, I don't know if that's possible when part of the dress you're wearing is wet. My pussy is suddenly throbbing with want. I want more touches from the hot stranger, whose fingers seem to be magical, and he knows exactly how to use them. A stranger my body shouldn't be reacting to, yet here I am, feeling him.

There's something about the way he's doing it. Slowly and carefully, and he occasionally looks up deliberately. He knows what he's doing to me, and it's working.

He then does the most unexpected thing. He goes down on his knees.

Oh boy…

My body is already anticipating his next action. He gathers my dress upwards, fulfilling my wish. When our eyes meet, no words are said, just heat emanating. With him, it's evident in his eyes. As for me, my body is still on fire.

“The champagne reached your thighs…they're wet.”

No, my thighs are not wet. There's something else that's wet and eagerly waiting for him. I lead him, without thinking through my actions. As my need for him increases, I pat my thighs, raising one leg, as he runs his fingers against my thighs, finding his way to my panties.

But then he stops and looks up.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” He asks, and it almost annoys me.

“Shut up.” I hiss, holding his head, burying him between my thighs.

His tongue finds my clit.

"Fuck!" That feels so good. I moan in ecstasy, pushing my head backwards, allowing him to fuck me with his tongue. All I feel now is him.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" I grip the sink tightly as I take in every bit of pleasure.

My leg rests on his shoulder as he does magic to my pussy, reaching places I didn't know could evoke this much pleasure.

Soon, the air is filled with my moans of pleasure.

I might attract attention, but I don't care. Someone might walk in, but I don't care. All I know is that I don't want him to stop. The feeling is phenomenal. He doesn't go easy on me, and I like it that way.

In the middle of my moment of pleasure….

Boom!

The door cracks open!