Chapter 3
Annabelle
The dress falls to the floor. I’m exposed to a stranger, drunk enough to feel numb, not too drunk that I know I want this.
He is hot. He saved me from that creep, and he tried to refuse me.
The way he is looking at me now, like I’m a fucking goddess, is making my clit twitch, and I move forward.
He stays where he is. It’s been too long since a man looked at me this way.
It’s been too long since I wanted a man.
Placing my hands on his chest, I press my body to his. He looks down at me. He’s tall, maybe six feet. His chest is hard under my hands. My head swirls a little bit, but I move my hands to undo the buttons on his shirt.
He lets me. He doesn’t help, doesn’t stop me.
He just watches me with eyes so blue, I want to drown in them.
His short dark hair is the same colour as his shirt.
Peeling the fabric away from him, I breathe out when I take in the tattoos on his chest. I run my fingers over them, and he grabs my wrists.
I think he is going to stop this madness, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he pulls me even closer, crushing his mouth to mine.
“Tinkerbell,” he murmurs against my lips, walking me back to the bed, his hands hooked into the sides of my knickers.
I hit the mattress, and he lets me fall, dragging my underwear off and throwing it on the floor. He shrugs out of his shirt, undoes his pants and kicks his shoes off, never taking his eyes off mine. He loses his pants, letting them drop on the floor. His cock is hard, wide and ready.
He plants his hands on either side of me on the bed and lowers himself until his face is close to mine.
I stare up at him, my heart pounding.
That slow, devastating smile appears again before his mouth crashes onto mine, hungry this time, less careful.
I kiss him back with all the need I’ve been choking on for years.
It pours out of me ugly and desperate. He takes it anyway.
His hand slides into my hair and tilts my head exactly where he wants it.
I let him. I want him to take over. I want to stop thinking.
I want him to think for me so I can let go.
He kisses down my throat, and I gasp, my nails digging into his upper arms. He pushes me back and lifts his mouth from mine, straightening up. He grabs me behind my knees and pulls me down the bed, right onto his waiting cock. The head presses against my pussy, and I moan with longing.
“Protection,” I pant, remembering I should be smart about this.
“Too late,” he says, his tone dark and filled with a lust that sends a rush of juices to slick over him as he sinks into me. “You feel too good, Tinkerbell.”
“Annabelle,” I pant, wondering why he can’t remember my name, but it doesn’t matter.
My pussy clenches around him. He feels fucking amazing.
I can already feel my orgasm growing as he withdraws almost fully and then slams back into me, holding me in place as he fucks me like no man has ever fucked me before.
He is sexy, brutal, relentless, exactly what I wanted.
Exactly what I hoped I would find when I put on that dress and headed to the club.
Four years, and this is the anniversary where I just want to get drunk, fuck a stranger and forget.
The headboard taps the wall with each thrust. My breath breaks apart. My pussy takes him greedily, my thighs spreading wider as he drives deeper. Every stroke hits a place inside me that makes me tremble.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my head lolling to the side as the alcohol takes hold, and my eyes close as the room spins.
My pussy clenches around him. A shiver tears through me before it forms a ripple which picks up speed. “Fuck, yes!” I cry out as I come harder than I ever have before.
“That’s it, Tinks. Take my cock like you were made for it. Come all over me like a filthy little girl.”
“Ethan,” I cry out as my body convulses again when he uses his fingers to rub my clit, pinch it, twist it until I’m breathless and writhing on his cock like a whore.
I am a whore.
I’m a drunken whore who is using vodka and sex to forget about this day, to forget about the yearly phone call to Bennett. To forget my existence.
Heat blasts through me, messy and violent, as he takes me like he owns me. His thumb keeps working over my clit while his cock drives into me, hard enough to force little broken sounds from my throat I have never heard myself make. I am too gone to be embarrassed. Too wrecked to care.
“That’s it,” he says, voice low, controlled. “Give it to me.”
A strange chill flickers through the heat, but then he thrusts again, and it vanishes under pleasure. I arch up into him, chasing the next hit, the next obliterating wave. He gives it to me without mercy.
“Look at me, Annabelle.”
My name in his mouth should not feel intimate. It does.
I force my eyes open. He is above me, beautiful and severe, tattoos shifting over muscle as he moves.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
My mouth goes slack as the vodka catches up to me. My eyes close again, and I feel myself being pulled into oblivion. He jostles my limp body as he pounds into me. He doesn’t stop.
I don’t want him to stop. I want him to fuck me until there is nothing left of me.
“Stay with me, Tinks,” he rasps, increasing his thrusts.
I can’t. I’m gone. My eyes are too heavy, and my mind is saturated in booze.
“I want you awake when I come inside you,” he growls. “Open your eyes, Annabelle.”
I force them open, locking my gaze onto his as the room spins around me.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans and slams into me before he grunts softly and unloads. “Take my cum, Tinks. Take every last drop like the greedy girl you are.”
“Ethan,” I mumble, and my eyes close again. This time, the darkness pulls me under.