1. Selma

one

Selma

The hotel bar shone with dimmed lighting, casting a warm, golden glow throughout the space. Soft, ambient music drifted through the air, weaving a delicate tapestry of sound that lulled the senses into a state of relaxation. Just the thing I was looking for. A gentle hum of conversation filled the room, creating a soothing backdrop to the symphony of lights and sounds.

I didn't usually pick up men in hotel bars, nor did I go around looking for sex wherever I could find it. But tonight was a night unlike any other.

Tonight, I wanted to forget. Three years of wallowing in self-pity. The betrayal I've experienced at the hands of the very people I trusted with my life. Three years of no sex. I needed to forget. And I knew just the best way to do that.

The man in front of me was drop-dead gorgeous. Dark and brooding, he gave off a bad-boy vibe that the teenage me would have gone crazy for. Too bad I was twenty-seven and over-confident.

I let a smile stretch upon my lips languidly as I held his gaze, trying not to focus too much on his eyes. He had the most beautiful, rich, mahogany brown eyes, and when he turned to look at me, they changed to a honey-gold, amber color.

I'd never seen eyes so beautiful.

He'd just offered to buy me a drink, but the look in his eyes told me he wanted more than just a drink.

"I was hoping you'd ask." I smiled, turning my profile to him completely. There was no recognition in his eyes as he stared back at me, no doubt because I was wearing a brown wig and makeup with a dark, smoky eyeshadow that would have had my own mother doing a double take before figuring out who I was.

Mystery Man—as I'd chosen to call him for the night—grinned, revealing perfect dentition before gesturing to the bartender, though his gaze never left mine.

"I'll have a Manhattan, and another of whatever the pretty lady's drinking." He lowered his voice and leaned close enough to whisper, "Though I'll bet she'd look even prettier with her clothes off."

"Wouldn't you like to see that," I purred.

He nodded dramatically. "I'd give my left ball."

"One Manhattan and a vodka spritz. Coming right up," the bartender said.

"So," Mystery Man's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?"

Despite myself, I laughed. "Seriously? That's the best you can do?"

Our drinks appeared instantly, causing a momentary pause in our conversation. I threw a "thank you" to the bartender, taking a sip of my vodka spritz through the cute straw dancing around in the glass.

Mystery Man downed his in one go, the sound of the glass hitting the porcelain counter echoing around us. His eyes twinkled as he dropped from his stool to step close to me. I kept my gaze on him as he brushed a knuckle against my cheek. That little contact alone made my knees weak.

"What do you say…come up with me, and I'll show you what I can really do? I'd be happy to show you a good time, if you're looking for one."

Ah. There it is. The catch. Straight to the point. At least he'd forgotten about my name. It was better this way. I would never see him again anyway.

I made a show of sipping my drink as I pretended to think about it. And he had a room too. No doubt he thought he was the one controlling the game here. I almost laughed. I was Selma fucking Volkov. I always controlled the game.

A small voice inside my head pointed out that I hadn't been controlling the game three years ago when my life had fallen apart, but I silenced it. Now was not the time for sad walks down memory lane.

I focused my attention back on the man in front of me. He was handsome, confident, and a real charmer. With a sharp jawline that could probably split glass and high cheekbones that stood proudly on his face, he looked every bit like sin. Plus, something told me he wasn't an ordinary man. There was an air of magnificence around him, and having been around rich people for half my life, I found it easily observable.

Then again, certain telltale signs were hard to miss. His watch was a Rolex Pearlmaster, and I recognized his fur coat from Zed Chenko's 2022 fall collection. Rich and handsome. The best combo a man could have—but especially the kind of man that suited my present needs. A scratcher for my itch.

But I couldn't let him know that I was a goner the second I saw him now, could I?

"Does that line work with all the girls?" I asked.

He chuckled. No, seriously. He had a really nice set of teeth.

I should get his dentist's number.

"Just the gullible ones," he says. "And it would please me greatly if it works with you. Does it?"

I shook my head with a sultry smile, closing my lips around my straw. His eyes followed the movement, and for a split second, their honey turned almost black.

He whistled, feigning hurt. "Fuck. Alright. Just tell me. What can I do to get into your panties?"

I leaned in so our faces were level. "Who says I'm wearing panties?"

His breath hitched. He wanted me. And damned if I didn't want him too.

"Let's pause the theatrics," he said in a deep baritone, the hint of cherry on his breath filling my senses. We were so close I could feel his hot breath fanning my face. "I want you, and I can see in your eyes that you want me too. Now, how about we go up to my room so I can rip those clothes off your body and make everybody a winner?"

My response was to hold his gaze while I finished my drink. I had to commend his patience as he watched me. On the outside, he looked calm and collected. But I could see the slight clenching of his jaw and the desire swirling in his eyes. Even the way he fisted his hand under the counter.

Throwing back the rest of my vodka spritz, I dropped down from the stool I was sitting on, grabbed my purse, tucked it under my arm, and straightened my dress before walking past him.

I'd always been a bold woman. It was one of the many reasons I was so successful—or had been. I found out the hard way that audaciousness was useless when paired with misplaced trust. Trusting too much and too hard eventually led to my downfall.

I stopped halfway to the exit, swung on my heel to look at him, and smiled. "Well? What's your room number?"

***

"When you said you weren't wearing panties, I really thought you were joking."

Mystery Man was touching me in very nice places. He'd thrown me on the bed quite roughly and hadn't given me a second to catch my breath before he slammed his lips to mine. I kissed him back with equal fervor, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He had two fingers inside me and was flickering the tips in a manner that made my eyes roll to the back of my head. I let out a shameless moan, not caring that I sounded like a goat choking on a thick piece of grass.

"Hurry," I breathed, lifting my hips to meet the thrusts of his fingers. "Take off your shirt."

He dragged his fingers out of me begrudgingly to acquiesce, and I took the opportunity to pull my dress over my head, leaving only my bra. My body was a mess of stimulation, and desire burned between us like an erupting volcano.

"No." He shook his head when I reached behind me to unclamp my bra. "Don't take it off. Fuck. You have no idea what you do to me."

He was completely naked now, but I couldn't focus on anything other than this face. His honey eyes burned with a fire that promised to consume me, and when he touched my cheek, it was with a certain delicacy that surprised me, almost like he was trying to be careful so as not to break me.

Which was weird because this was a fucking one-night stand, and delicate was not a word that should be placed in the same sentence with it.

"Shut up and kiss me." I dragged him down to connect our lips, moaning when his tongue slipped inside my mouth.

He stroked my mouth with his tongue as one strong hand grabbed my cheek. "You've got the most amazing tits. They remind me of peaches." He trailed his fingers down my neck to cover one of my breasts, and when he gave the sensitive globe a rough squeeze, I jerked away to gasp.

"So sensitive," he murmured against my lips. "I wonder what would happen if I pinched your nipple."

He did just that through my lace bra, and I let out a pleasurable sob.

"Hmm, yes. You're easy to please, peaches." A kiss. "You know what I like most about seeing a great pair of breasts in a bra?" Another pinch. "It's the thrilling anticipation of knowing what rests underneath. The expectation that tickles your pickle as you imagine the shape, size, and color."

I was a whimpering mess of nerves. His words faded into the background as the sensation of his fingers pinching, kneeling, and squeezing filled my senses. It was all so wicked, and I loved it.

"Please," I rasped, looking up at him from under my lashes. "Touch me."

Mystery Man chuckled under his breath, the guttural sound reverberating through the room. "You're a needy little thing, aren't you?"

Every touch left me begging for more. Shame had long deserted me. This man had taken classes in Female Pleasure 101 and passed with distinction. He didn't know it, but he was exactly what I needed.

He kissed me again, hard and deep, before throwing my hands above my head and holding them there with one of his. He was already positioned between my parted legs, his free hand traveling down my midriff to the aching pool between my legs.

Anticipation coiled within me like tendrils as fire pooled in my lower abdomen. I was already panting before I felt his fingers flick my pulsing clit. A sudden scream escaped my mouth at precisely the same time a low grunt flew out of his.

"Ah. A screamer. Just my luck." He smirked, adding pressure to my clit. "Go on, peaches. Scream."

He pressed harder on my clit, so hard my mouth opened, but no sound came out. My toes curled as they stretched in the air, and my back arched off the bed.

"I can't hear you," he drawled, repeating the action before slipping two fingers inside me and swirling them around. "Surely, you can do better than that, sweet peach."

I did scream then, because his finger suddenly disappeared, and his dick replaced them with one thrust. He took me by surprise, and it added to the pleasure. I gave in to him; my body already did anyway.

What was the point in fighting it?

I closed my mind and let the delicious sensations of his thrusts take over. I was forgetting. My moans were getting louder and louder, and Mystery Man was pummeling me so hard that the headboard rattled against the wall. He had been holding my hands so tightly that I couldn't move them, but now they were free, leaving me to wrap them around his neck.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't have let any man fuck me so roughly. I was a refined, sophisticated lady who never had a hair out of place. But tonight, I was past the point of caring. The opposite of who I was, was exactly who I wanted to be.

Nothing prepared me for the absolute burst of pleasure that shot through me when he began to circle his waist. He hit a sweet spot inside me that had me crying out and grabbing onto him for dear life.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted, suddenly throwing one of my legs over his shoulder, spreading me even wider. "So fucking good."

My body was on fire. I'd never felt pleasure so intense. And the fact that this was a man I didn't know, and would never see again, made it all the more decadent. I grabbed the sheets, my knuckles turning white at my tight grip.

Liquid fire gathered in my lower abdomen and began to spread. Each edge of my body tingled, and on the horizon hovered a climax I knew would knock the breath out of me. I arched my back, meeting him thrust for thrust. The room was filled with the high-pitched sounds of my moans and the husky groans from Mystery Man.

Then he increased his pace, and my eyes drifted shut. Hard, intentional thrusts that made my eyes water. I could feel it. So close. If he'd just keep doing that—

"Ahh!" A scream tore out of my throat as my body shook against him, and my knees buckled violently. I swear my brain stopped functioning for those few seconds before I went limp in his arms.

Soon after, he followed behind me, his hips jerking sporadically as he finished inside me with an almost pained grunt. When he came down to the real world again, he fell face down on the bed next to me.

"Fucking hell. That was…" He struggled for words. "Something."

I inhaled; raging thoughts filled my mind again as I fixed my gaze on the ceiling. I should've felt something, right? Not "something" like Mystery Man mentioned. I did feel something , and it was magnificent.

No, what I meant was I'd just had a one-night stand with someone I'd never met before and would never meet again. Surely, guilt was a fitting response to summarize the situation. So why did I feel numb about the sex?

It wasn't like I was in a relationship. Not anymore, anyway. That had ended a long time ago. And besides, I was a grown woman. If I wanted to sleep with a random man I met in a hotel bar who undoubtedly knew how to please a woman, I fucking would.

In truth, this had been a successful experiment. The next few months would be decidedly difficult and would require everything I had in me if I was going to succeed. That mainly included a fearlessness I didn't think I possessed. But I'd just fucked a man I met a few hours ago.

What could be more fearless than that?

My resolve was strengthened. I could do this, and not only that—I could triumph.

"This was fun." I stood to find my dress, not bothering to look at Mystery Man. His job here was done.

Too bad, a voice in my head whispered. He actually had potential.

"That's it?" he asked from where he lay on the bed. "You're just going to leave?"

I threw my dress over my head and found my shoes by the door. With one quick glance, I spotted my bag lying next to the bed.

"What else? Did you expect us to exchange secrets and braid each other's hair?" I went to pick up my bag.

His relaxed chuckle followed me all the way to the door. "That sounds like the beginning of a terrible love story."

I paused and turned to face him for the last time. "I thought so, too. Nice meeting you."