An Unexpected Encounter

1. Selena

Selena

The bar is a mass of bodies, crowded together as they grind against each other on the small dance floor.

I spin back around on my stool at the bar as laughter and music fill the space around me.

I nurse my cocktail, the burn of whiskey chasing away the knot of dread in my stomach.

Tomorrow I have to board a godforsaken plane, and fly across the country to play nice with Mom and her shiny new fiancé.

A man she met just two months ago on a singles cruise.

I’m not just meeting him, though, but also his kids who are probably spoiled and see Mom and me as intruders in their lives.

I get it. It’s been two years since my dad died, and she deserves happiness as much as anyone else.

But two months? That’s not even enough time to really get to know someone.

I tried to get out of it, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it.

She went on and on about how disgraceful it would be for her only child not to show up.

So I caved. Like I always do when it comes to her. My only solace in my decision to go is that she’ll be too engrossed with her wedding plans, and her new husband doting on her, that she won’t have time to ridicule me.

Fingers crossed, anyway.

I swirl the greenish liquid in my glass, letting the half melted ice hit against the sides. I’m already buzzed way past the point of what I should be. Two Liquid Marijuanas ago is when I should’ve stopped. But I didn’t. Each time the bartender came by and asked if I wanted another I nodded.

With each passing hour, the bar gets more crowded.

Bodies bump against me as they pass by, but nothing pulls my attention from drowning in my dread with sweet, sugary alcohol.

I should be dragging my ass home, setting an alarm, and preparing to pretend to be the loving daughter my mother wants me to be for the weekend.

But the thought of facing that mess sober?

No thanks. It’s not what I want to do. Avoidance is firmly on my menu for tonight.

So I do what any sane person does who has an early flight. I raise my hand, waving it lazily to catch the bartender's eye. He gives me a nod, finishes what he’s doing, then practically glides down the length of the counter to me, flashing his best panty-melting smile.

“One more of these,” I tell him, my voice slurring just a touch as I hold up my nearly empty glass.

A deep, gravelly voice speaks up beside me, cutting through the noise of the bar. “I'll have one of those too, and a beer. Put them all on my tab,” he says.

My head swivels to the left to get a glimpse of the man behind the voice that has my clit pulsating.

The god who spoke is resting his arm on the countertop of the bar, his body angled toward mine as he half sits on the bar stool.

Damn, if he isn’t the finest man I’ve ever seen.

I can’t help but turn more toward him, my tongue gliding across my bottom lip in approval.

He’s tall with broad shoulders, arms built like he spends his days hauling weights or chopping wood.

Dark hair, short but with the front falling tousled over his forehead, begging for my fingers to rake themselves through it.

His eyes are the same rich shade of midnight, locking onto mine with a spark that makes my pulse stutter.

A five o'clock shadow adorns his jaw, framing a mustache that curls just enough to promise trouble. Fuck me. I can already imagine his stubble brushing against my inner thighs. There’s a small scar just above his right eye, adding a rugged edge that sends a thrill down my spine.

He catches me staring and smirks. “Rough night?” he asks, his gaze dragging lazily across my body, lingering on my lips, then dropping to my bare thighs.

“More like dreading tomorrow. Family drama, flying out early.” I take the drink from the bartender and take a sip from the straw. “And how about you?”

“Taking care of some business before traveling back home.” He takes a sip of his drink and raises his eyebrow. “This is good. Strong. But good.”

“I find it delicious.” I lift the straw to my mouth, taking another sip, glancing up at him through my eyelashes. I’ve never been good at flirting, but the alcohol has given me some liquid courage.

“My name’s Zeke. And you are?” He scoots the stool a little closer, his jean-covered knees brushing against my bare ones.

I just sit there for a minute, straw nestled between my lips as I debate how to answer him.

Do I give him my real name? Or a fake one?

Picking up guys in a bar is so uncharacteristic of me.

Fuck, I wish Sam was here. My bestie has always been my wingman, and he’d know just how to answer for me.

But he’s out on a mini-vacation with his boyfriend, Jose.

I’m thinking Jose may be popping the question, finally.

They deserve happiness and are the perfect couple.

“Lena,” I tell him, fibbing slightly. It’s kind of my name. Just shortened a bit.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the most beautiful woman in the bar.” His gaze drops to my fingers, examining them. “And one who doesn’t appear to be married or engaged. Unless you’ve removed the ring.”

I gasp. My hand goes to my chest mockingly. “I’d never. I’m one hundred percent single.”

Over the next hour, I not only finish the drink I ordered, but get another one as well.

The entire time Zeke keeps my interest. We talk, genuinely.

Easy stuff, of course, like the weather, the best spots in town to eat, but nothing personal.

We both steer clear of that subject. Well, more so me, than him.

Any time he asks something personal, I change the subject or divert the question back to him.

His husky voice engulfs me as he shares a story about a time his plane got delayed and he had to spend the night in a small town.

Before I know it, my glass is empty again.

The bar's spinning a little, so I already know I can’t push my luck with another drink.

I should really be ordering a ride to pick me up.

'Wanna get out of here?” he leans in and whispers. He’s so close that his breath dances across my ear. “My hotel's just around the corner.” He places his hand on my knee, squeezing gently, just enough to have my heart racing. I press my thighs together, trying to ease the ache burning between them.

I hesitate for a moment. Do I want to go home with him? It’s so risky.

But the moment fades quickly; the alcohol and my greedy pussy taking over, knocking all my concerns of how unsafe this is out of my mind.

Why not? One last reckless night before reality crashes in. I deserve it.

I nod, before leaning in, pressing my lips to his ear.

“Let’s get out of here.”

He waves the bartender over and settles not only his tab, but much to my dismay, mine as well. “I walked over here tonight,” he tells me. “Did you drive? Do we need to take your car?”

“Nope. I got a ride here, and was going to get one home,” I tell him as he takes my hand in his and leads me across the room to the door. We weave through the people until we finally make it outside.

The night air is cool, but where he now has a hand resting on the small of my back, there’s nothing but fire as he guides me down the street toward his hotel.

“Honey, we’re home,” he sing-songs with a half laugh as he opens the door, allowing me to enter before him.

For a minute, my years of horror movie exposure kicks in and I have a momentary freak out; he's just brought me to my death.

But I quickly shake off the insanity of the idea.

Zeke takes my hand in his once more, and leads me across the empty lobby to the elevator.

Guess everyone else is in bed already. It is midnight.

We take the elevator to the third floor and exit, making a right down the hallway. After stopping in front of room 306, he lets go of my hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out the room key. He places the keycard at the reader, and the door unlocks with a flash of green light.

I’m barely in the door before I hear it shutting behind me and his arms wrap around my waist, spinning me around, pulling my body flush against his.

Zeke’s mouth is on mine, hot and demanding, as his mustache tickles my upper lip.

His tongue sweeps in, the sweet taste of liquor mixing with mine.

I moan into it, my hands reaching up, grasping his tousled strands of hair, tugging on them just hard enough to make him growl.

He moves forward, backing me into the room, toward the bed. He takes hold of my shirt, pulling it over my head and tossing it to the side. My bra follows, the straps falling down my arms as it drops to the floor.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. So sweet. Like a cupcake.

” Zeke cups my breasts in his hands, as his thumbs stroke across my nipples, pinching them until I gasp.

“My cock is so hard for you,” he mutters, moving his hands beneath the waist of my skirt, shoving it and my panties down at the same time.

I step out of them and kick them aside. My body’s bare and aching before him as he drops to his knees, eyes dark with hunger.

“Lie down,” he orders, chills running down my spine as I do as he says. Zeke gives me an approving smile, placing his hands on my knees, spreading my thighs apart. “So fucking wet,” he growls.

Zeke kneels before me, taking hold of my hips, pulling me closer to the edge, putting my legs over his shoulders.

He blows his hot breath along the seam of my pussy before his tongue dives in, sliding through my wet folds, and ending at my clit.

When he sucks my little nub into his mouth, I can’t help but moan.

“Fuck,” I cry out. My hand moves without thought, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him there as he feasts on my clit. His hands grip my ass, pulling me closer, and he thrusts his tongue inside me, fucking me with it while his thumb circles my swollen nub.