Prologue #2
“Yes, you do.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a knowing smile. “What is it you’re here for tonight?”
“To get drunk.” Which was the truth until about thirty seconds ago.
“And?”
The alcohol has apparently dissolved my filter completely. “To get laid. I need to get laid. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had an orgasm? Like, months. An orgasm that wasn’t courtesy of my own hand or a battery-operated friend.”
The words tumble out before I can stop them, and I immediately want to crawl into a hole and die. But instead of looking shocked or running away screaming, something that sounds suspiciously like a growl rumbles from his chest.
“I like a girl who knows what she wants.” His lips are now close enough that I can feel his breath on my skin.
“I’m sure you do,” I manage to sass back, though my voice is shaking.
His hand finds my hip, fingers trailing up toward my neck with deliberate slowness. Every point of contact sends electricity shooting through my nervous system. When he tilts my chin up slightly, I’m completely lost.
Then his lips crash against mine, and my brain short-circuits.
He tastes like coffee and something else I can’t name. His scent wraps around me and I lose all sense of where I am. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more contact, more pressure, more everything.
He kisses like he’s claiming me, his tongue taking control of my mouth with a confidence that makes my knees weak. The masks make it awkward, but somehow that just adds to the excitement. This is raw and desperate and completely insane.
When his hand drifts down to the hem of my skirt, I let out a sound that’s part whimper, part plea. But it’s when his other hand wraps around my throat that I completely lose my mind.
He doesn’t apply much pressure—just enough to let me know it’s there, just enough to make every nerve ending in my body light up like a Christmas tree. It’s something I’ve fantasised about but never trusted anyone enough to try.
This is completely mental.
He’s a stranger I met sixty seconds ago, and he’s got his tongue down my throat and his hand around my neck while his fingers skim higher up my thigh.
I should be running.
I should be screaming.
I should be doing anything except melting into him like I’m made of chocolate and he’s the sun.
But the thrill of it, the sheer recklessness of not knowing anything about him, makes the ache between my legs intensify to the point where I can barely think straight.
His fingers tighten slightly against my throat, it’s not enough to restrict breathing, just enough to make me remember they’re there. I lean into the pressure as his other hand slides up the inside of my leg with agonising slowness.
We’re tucked away in a darkened corner where his body blocks us from view, but the knowledge that we could be discovered at any moment only adds to the excitement.
When his fingers reach my panties, I gasp against his mouth. He cups me through the fabric, and I nearly come apart at the seams.
“Fuck, darl, you’re so fucking wet.” The words are rough against my ear before he captures my mouth again, kissing me like he’s trying to devour me whole.
His fingers tighten slightly around my throat again—just enough pressure to make me remember who’s in control here. I lean into it as his other hand slips beneath my panties, fingers sliding through my folds with practised ease.
My body starts trembling uncontrollably. Everything comes alive under his touch as he explores me with first one finger, then two, pushing deeper while his thumb finds my clit. My legs start shaking as my orgasm builds with embarrassing speed.
Months of sexual frustration combined with alcohol and the most intense sexual encounter of my life—it’s a recipe for complete orgasmic meltdown.
He breaks the kiss, adding more pressure to my clit while his fingers pump in and out of me in perfect rhythm. His other hand maintains that delicious pressure around my throat.
“That’s a good girl. Let go for me. Let me feel you come on my fingers,” he whispers against my ear. “Your pussy is so fucking tight and soaked.”
His words push me over the edge. I cry out, trying to keep quiet, but he swallows the sound with another searing kiss. The orgasm hits me like a freight train—wave after wave of pleasure so intense I see actual stars behind my eyelids.
He keeps his fingers moving until I stop shaking, then slowly withdraws them. When he leans back with a satisfied smirk, I feel like I might collapse without the wall holding me up.
“You know you look like Batman’s kinky cousin, right?” It’s the first coherent thought that makes it from my brain to my mouth.
He chuckles, and the sound does things to me that should be illegal. “Yeah, maybe that’s the look I was going for.”
“Well, that was...” I pause, trying to find words that don’t make me sound like a complete idiot. “Something.”
“Yeah, that sure as fuck was something.” His voice is rough with satisfaction. “Your pussy felt amazing, and you were already so wet for me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I shoot back, trying to regain some dignity. “It wasn’t because of you.”
“No? What was it then?”
“Tequila,” I reply with as much attitude as I can muster.
“Right. Had nothing to do with my fingers buried inside you or my hand wrapped around your pretty little neck?” The way he describes what just happened makes me clench my thighs together involuntarily.
He notices, of course he does. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I can’t argue because he’s right. The moment his fingers wrapped around my throat, I turned into a puddle of want.
He lifts his fingers to his nose and inhales deeply, like he’s savouring fine wine. Then he slides one into his mouth, and my pussy clenches in response. Why is that so incredibly hot?
“Darl, you taste so fucking good.” He closes his eyes as he licks his fingers clean, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to spontaneously combust.
He leans down and kisses me again, just as intensely as before. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it’s addictive in a way that should probably concern me. His hand finds my throat again, squeezing just a little harder, making me whimper into his mouth.
When he finally breaks away, he steps back far enough for me to get a good look at his body. I wish the alcohol wasn’t making my vision blur, because I’d give anything to commit every detail to memory.
“I’ll see you around, darl,” he says with a wink that promises everything and nothing.
Then he turns and walks away without giving me a chance to ask his name, ask for his number, or ask if he wants to continue this somewhere more private. I watch until he disappears around the corner, taking all the heat and electricity in the room with him.
Fuck me.
I just got finger-banged by Batman’s kinky cousin in a pub corridor, and it was the best sexual experience of my life. And I don’t even know his bloody name.
I wobble my way back to our table on unsteady legs, and Megan takes one look at me and frowns.
“Are you okay? You look flustered.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, because I’m anything but fine. I can’t believe what just happened. Tomorrow, when I’m sober and mortified, I’ll probably regret this. But right now, all I can think about is how much I want it to happen again.
“Stella, what aren’t you telling me?” Megan studies my face with the intensity of a detective. She knows me too well to buy my innocent act.
There’s no point lying. She’ll interrogate me until I crack anyway.
“So, I may have just let a complete stranger finger me in the corridor and give me the best orgasm I’ve had in... well, ever.”
“Oh my God, you didn’t!” Shock and excitement war for dominance on her face. “You absolute legend!”
“Blame the alcohol,” I mutter, snatching up my cocktail and downing what’s left in three large gulps.
“Right, because it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been desperately in need of a good shag for months.”
“Definitely not that,” I agree, though we both know she’s hit the nail on the head.
Megan scans the bar with the dedication of a bounty hunter. “Where is he? Point him out!”
I follow her gaze around the room. The crowd’s starting to thin as it gets later, and my heart sinks when I realise he’s nowhere to be seen.
He’s literally vanished into the night like the Batman he resembled, leaving me with nothing but the memory of his hands and the taste of him on my lips.
And the absolute certainty that I’ll be replaying every second of this encounter for months to come.