Chapter 3
WARNING: The following scene contains explicit romantic and intimate content.
Amber POV
The man didn’t answer immediately. His eyes trailed me slowly, as if he could read every intention I hadn’t yet decided to have. Each second stretched, unnerving me, as I waited for this man's verdict. A silent, desperate voice in my head prayed I wouldn't end up more embarrassed than betrayed.
His eyes dropped to the shot glass in my hand, then rose back to meet mine.
“A toast?” he repeated, his voice deep and amused. “To what?”
My mouth went dry, my brain still buzzing from alcohol, as I struggled to come up with a reasonable response.
A small, unreadable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, an intense glint flashing in his eyes.
“Can’t figure it out?” he murmured.
I huffed out a weak laugh, rubbing my shoulders as my neck heated up. “You could say that.”
He gestured to the empty seat across from him. “Sit. Let’s figure it out.”
My pulse fluttered at the firmness beneath his words, and I sat, placing the glass on the table and rubbing my palms together. From this corner, the bar noise softened, fading into the background like we’d stepped into a different world entirely. Now I could see him up close, and study his striking features.
“You look like you’re celebrating something,” he began.
“Really? I’m trying to,” I admitted, my voice low against the hum of the bar. “I broke up.”
His brow arched. “Is that so?”
I nodded, and he leaned forward, signaling to the waiter. “Then we’re celebrating your freedom. We need something better than this.”
The waiter returned, and he whispered something into his ear, nodding and leaving. The waiter then returned with a tray of champagne, and I let out a small gasp, watching as he placed two glasses and poured the wine with precision.
“Isn’t this too much?” I commented.
“For your freedom?” He placed a glass in my hand. “No.”
I reached for the glass, my hands brushing his, and my breath hitched. He only smirked, withdrawing his hand and lifting his own. “To freedom.”
I clinked mine against his, taking a sip with him, though I could still feel his gaze on my mouth. My pulse raced as the intensity of his gaze increased, and I couldn't help but swallow more of the bubbly champagne.
“How long,” he asked, swirling his glass lazily, “have you been trying to forget him?”
The question struck me, my hands freezing mid-air. I lowered my gaze, focusing on the glass which had a small amount of liquid left.
“Not long enough,” I muttered.
Before I could continue talking, I felt his hand swoop under my chin, forcing it to meet his stormy eyes, and my heart stopped.
“Then how can I be of help?” he whispered, causing my stomach to tighten.
“Help… how?” I stuttered, struggling to rein in my thoughts that ran wild from his touch.
He eyed my lips openly this time, before moving lower then back up.
“You already know how. Don’t you, Amber? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” He leaned close to my ear, his breath sending tingles down my spine.
I stared at him, unable to pull back from his touch. There was something unsettling about him, the way his eyes tracked my every movement and took complete control of this moment. And yet, rather than being afraid, I was drawn in.
“How do you know my name?”
I forced out, unable to deny his words earlier. “I don’t recall telling you since we started talking.”
“I know how you’re looking at me.” His smile deepened, dangerous and private, as his thumb brushed lightly over my lower lip.
I hadn’t noticed, but he was right. His hand now trailed my hair gently, like a silent way of teasing.
“And I know,” he whispered, leaning in until his breath grazed my ear, “that you want a distraction from heartbreak… not small talk.”
He stretched his hand towards me. “So let me be your companion.”
The air thinned between us, heat pooling low and heavy between my legs as I looked into his eyes. However, as I was about to agree, a flicker of responsibility tugged at me.
I placed my hand on his chest, creating distance. “I can’t go… my friends are still here.”
I turned slightly, for the first time since I sat with him, to see my friends' laughter grow louder. The three of them stumbled toward the back of the bar, toward the tiny door with a restroom sign, and staggered in, too drunk to even glance in my direction.
A small knot of panic tightened in me. “I need to check on them…”
“You don’t have to,” he cut in quietly, his voice low as his gaze followed mine. “I'll ensure they are safely taken care of. You, however, are coming with me.”
That single, dominant promise of control was my undoing. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the heartbreak, but suddenly, I wanted him more than I’d wanted anything else in months.
His eyes flicked down, searching for a silent agreement before his hand slid to the back of my neck, warm and firm, and he lifted me.
And without another word, he led me out of the bar.
*********
The room we were in was located above the bar, which surprised me because I didn’t know the bar had places like that. It was small and dark, but I barely had time to register the expensive scent of leather and clean smoke as he placed me on the ground then moved his hands to my waist, pulling me flush against him.
His lips engulfed mine in a claiming kiss, his tongue skillfully dominating mine and shattering my senses. I gulped in air in between, unable to keep up, but the man kept going, pushing my back until I hit the wall.
My fingers dug into his shoulders, heat suffocating every thought I’d ever held about being “proper and gentle.” Since he was meeting my rebellion with dominance, I had only one option: escalate. I wrapped my hands around his neck, pressing my body fiercely against his chest, leaning into the kiss with desperate, bruising intensity.
“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Amber,” he growled against my lips.
“Bring it on,” I breathed.
That earned me a low chuckle that vibrated straight through me, and he pulled away.
His coat dropped, followed by his jacket, then his shirt, revealing a pair of chiseled chests and six-pack abs. He eyed my figure shamelessly, eliciting a small gasp as his hands slid to the V-neck of my gown, over my breast, then to my back to zip it down.
The dress slid off, revealing my figure, and the coldness of the room hit my skin. He wrapped his arms around me, trailing kisses down my neck.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured against my skin.
“I’m drunk,” I replied, tilting my head for more access.
“You’re turned on,” he corrected, sliding his hands to slip through my underwear, eliciting a low moan from me. “You were already soaking wet while we were talking… weren’t you?”
His hands slipped in before I could speak, and all thoughts in my head fizzled out as he began moving in and out, and my nails dug into his skin.
“Please,” I whispered, my throat dry as the pleasure made me weak in my knees.
“You want me. Say it, Amber,” he ordered, his voice a gravelly demand.
I managed a breathless nod. “Yes… I want you. Please,” I repeated the desperate word, my mind blurring as he lifted me like I weighed nothing.
He moved to the bed, dropping me to bounce against it. His firm hands gripped my breasts, kneading them harshly whilst the other hand slipped my pants off. I was a mess, letting out breathless moans as his lips found my heat, sucking it mercilessly.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded, and my legs flew apart, though they wanted to close. I fell powerless to the bed while he went deeper.
He went on, switching between his hands and his lips, and by the time he was done, I was already mentally far away. I wanted to speak out, but I felt a harder length press against my entrance.
“Wait… I’m not…” I said faintly, looking up to meet his gaze.
His eyes were dangerously dark and attractive, his breaths in shallow bursts as he stroked his shaft slowly. The veins on it throbbed, and the tip was already leaking, making me feel the urge to lick it up.
He released it, propping his hands by my sides to hover above me, his eyes glinting with something wicked.
“Oh, I forgot to ask. How rude of me,” he remarked, trailing his fingers around my thighs.
Suddenly, he gripped each thigh, wrapping it around his waist, and pressing his shaft against my clit. He moved slowly, lubricating it with the juices that squirted out from me, while seizing my lips in a slow kiss.
This man was definitely more dangerous than I thought.
“Can I f*** you?” he uttered in my ears, his breath fanning against my skin and sending shocks through my body.
This was crazy… He is crazy. But then again, the past 24 hours had been crazier than I expected. So what was one more thing to add to that list? I was gaining something this time as well.
“Yes, please,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his with resolution.
And from then on, the rest of the night was a blur of kisses, manhandling, breathless moans, and a man who ruined me thoroughly.