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“Wait,” she breathes. “I don’t even know your name.”
For a beat, I just look at her. Who I am is not something I share very often given the world I am a part of.
And especially not with my extracurriculars.
My hesitation must last longer than I think, because the woman in my arms smiles and says, “I’m Kat.”
My decision made, I reply, “My friends call me Theo.”
Kat’s tongue peeks out to run across her bottom lip, her eyes dropping to my mouth. “Theo,” she breathes.
I run my hand down her side, squeezing her hip as I bring my mouth to her ear. “I like the way that sounds. By the end of tonight, you will be screaming it.”
Her lips brush my earlobe before I feel the sting of her teeth. “I’m counting on it.”
We have an adjoining building on one side of the club that is usually reserved for business dignitaries when they are in town. Sometimes, I make use of it to fulfill my needs; it is a lot less messy than taking a woman home. Everything in the room is replaceable, including the vase that falls off the dining table that I deposit Kat on so I can hike her dress up. The sounds of fabric tearing and clay shattering mingle with the needy noises she makes as I run my hands over her bare skin. Her legs wrapped around my hips make it easy to push my hands under the fabric to where her behind meets the base of her spine. This also means my face is now buried in her chest, so I can give her breasts some much-needed attention.
Kat’s head falls back, her fingers tugging on the longer strands of hair her hands have been buried in. We push and claw at each other for some time, until I hoist Kat up, walking her to the bedroom where I drop her on the bed. She maintains eye contact as I strip down to my birthday suit and nod for her to do the same.
After that, primal nature takes over, for both of us it seems. There is no finesse, no easing into anything, and every touch between us seems charged. The thought that this is unlike any other encounter I have had flits through my mind many times.
That is why it is such a kick in the balls when I wake up the next morning to find the space next to me cold, and the woman I shared my bed with gone.
Chapter 3 - Kat
A rough hand runs over my hips and up my body, brushing the sides of my breasts. Fingers curl into the hair at my nape and pull my head forward for full, domineering lips to crash down onto mine. I part my lips slightly and a tongue pushes through to tangle with mine—all the while skillful fingers between my legs play me like a well-tuned piano until I’m breathless.
“Theo,” I beg as my back arches off the bed.
Theo pulls back until his eyes meet mine. His grin turns wicked as he looks down at me and continues his assault, bringing me to the edge over and over but never quite letting me fall.
My body writhes in ways I never knew possible as I claw for a release that’s just out of reach.
When I think I can’t take it anymore, he adds his tongue to the mix. Again, he brings me to the edge but doesn’t give me enough to let go.
I’m almost incoherent by the time he climbs up my body and buries himself deep inside me, setting off an orgasm so powerful my body convulses for what feels like an eternity. The spasms continue to ripple through me as he chases his own orgasm, and even after he collapses on top of me.
Theo is a hulk of a man, with corded muscles on every inch of his body that I was able to see when my eyes weren’t squeezed shut from the pleasure. Even though the weight of him is crushing me at the moment, I don’t dare utter a word for him to move. The rhythmic beating of his heart against my chest is unusually comforting, a moment I wish I could freeze and keep with me.
I bite back my protest when he pushes himself up to look down at me, and my breath catches in my throat when he leans down to give me the sweetest kiss, so at odds with the way he played my body just minutes before.
When he lifts his body off mine, cold air hits my skin, sending a shock through me …
I jolt upright, my eyes adjusting to the dark room. My room. Not the room where I had what was possibly the best sex of my life.
Bringing the back of my hand to my forehead, I wipe away the sweat running down my brow. My sheets lie rolled to one side, my body bare except for the thin layer of silk pajamas. My skin is covered in beads of sweat, a result of the sultry memories that plague my dreams like they have every night for the last two weeks. During the day, flashes of the night I spent with the stranger I know only as Theo invade my thoughts. They come at the most inopportune moments, and every time without fail, my legs start to quiver. As much as I hate to admit it, they are also how almost every self-love session starts.
Shifting my heavy limbs to roll out of bed, I pad over to the bathroom to pour myself a glass of water. When I see my reflection in the mirror, I’m unsurprised to find my hair a mess and my skin flushed. I look similar to how I did when I snuck out of Theo’s hotel room in the early morning hours. A familiar twinge of guilt crops up for a second before I push it aside.
It was just one night of fun, nothing special. Even as I think the words, though, I know they’re a lie.
The way his body felt against mine, the attentive way he touched my body, how he felt inside me, even the way he looked at me. There was this energy between us that I have no words to describe, which is crazy because I don’t even know who he is. All I know is that every encounter from here on out will be compared to Theo. Every touch will be measured against the feel of his hands on my bare skin. As much as I don’t want it to be.
It’s unsettling given I’ll probably never see him again.
***
Over the next few weeks, the sleepless nights and plagued waking moments die down slightly. That does not mean I do not still wake up sweating and aching for release or feel a breeze and remember how Theo’s breath felt on my skin. I do, but the hours in between have been getting longer. In the days that follow, I start feeling off. A fatigue I have never felt before hangs over me like a thick fur coat drenched from the rain. I do not have an appetite, and when I do eat, I struggle to keep anything down. Ivan, our chef, tries making me chicken soup but even the smell of that sets me off and has me dry heaving over the toilet bowl.
