Chapter 2

Seven's hotel was only a few minutes away. He'd booked the suite for the business meeting that had brought him across town, but the meeting had ended with Noelle.

She didn't seem to care where they were going.

In the car she kept tugging at his shirt, kissing him, making little sounds into his mouth ignoring whosoever else was around.

He pulled back a little. "Are you sure?" he asked.

She looked up at him. Drunk eyes, but focused. She found his face and held it.

"You said you’d make me forget him."

"I said I’d help you have a good night."

"Same thing."

He stared at her for a second. She was tipsy, but was still self aware enough to want this.

So when he opened the door, she slid in without even thinking about it.

By the time they pulled up to the hotel she’d gone quiet. Head against the window.

Seven walked her through the lobby with one hand on her back, guiding her to the private elevator.

Inside, she caught their reflection in the mirror.

"You’re still pretending to be my boyfriend, right?"

His mouth quirked up.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. She grabbed his hand before he could move.

"Seven?"

He looked down.

"I want you to fill my mind tonight."

And just like that, all the teasing left his face.

She gave him this small, tired smile and followed him down the hall.

A few minutes later the door to his suite clicked shut behind them. Noelle turned around and their eyes met.

Whatever space was left between them? Gone.

Her back slammed against the door just as his hands curved around her neck, angling her up as his lips crashed on hers.

Her head tipped back against the door, hands winding around his to draw him closer.

“Seven—” she gasped.

He took it, plunging his tongue into her mouth, sucking, tasting every part of the alcohol and chocolate scent that clouded his sense.

They stumbled across the room, knocking over expensive vases and crashing into walls and furnitures.

Clothes came off. Her dress. His shirt. Her heels. He scooped her up, legs wrapping around him instantly, and walked towards the bed, tracing kisses down her collarbone, mouth, tasting her skin.

He laid her on the bed and looked at her—flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, her chest rose and fell too. His fingers traced her skin, moving down her shoulders and bringing down her bra strap with him. Two more pull, and her breasts spilled free, nipples hard.

He sucked in a breath, taking her in. He traced his thumb over the left nipple.

She moaned, arching her back, fingers threading into his hair. His fingers continued down, circling around her navel.

"Hmm." She breathed, legs tightening around him.

Her eyes traced his movements, following until they reached her aching centre. Her G-string did nothing to hide her wetness slipping down her thighs.

Seven smiled when he saw it, leaning back to pull her panties off.

Noelle sighed out loud at the coolness that hit her.

He watched her face as he circled round her folds, teasing her until she cried out.

“Seven—”

"What?" He whispered, eyes dark and waiting. "What do you want me to do for you?"

"Fuck me." She whispered, hand snaking into his hair. "I need you. Just make me feel good, Seven."

He looked down at her aching centre, wet and crying, begging to be worshipped.

His mouth descended, latching onto her.

"Oh, my goodness." She jolted upright, screaming at the sensation of his tongue on her. He took his time, sucking at her clit, tongue lapping, hard and fast, until she was a mess, thrashing beneath him. Her hands fell from his head, digging into the sheets for dear life.

His hands held her hips in place, keeping her firm as he ate, taking in drip after drip of her aurosal.

Her hips trembled, jerking against his face as her orgasm rushed through her.

One long lap against her clit, and she crashed down, screaming his name like a prayer.

He took in everything, licking her clean as the last tremors left her.

"Oh, my goodness." Noelle breathed. "You're good."

"I'm worth the pay," he murmured above her pussy before sliding a finger inside her.

Noelle squirmed, eyes going wide as she tightly gripped the sheet beneath her.

He added a second finger, curling, finding the spot that made her hips jump. Her hands gripped the sheets. He kept his eyes on hers the whole time, adjusting pressure when her mouth opened on a silent gasp, slowing when her thighs trembled too hard.

He smiled, kissing the inside of her thigh, then moved back up her body. She reached for his belt. He caught her hand.

“Tonight is for you,” he said. “You don’t have to lift a finger.”

She was breathless, flushed, head spinning from him and the wine. She just nodded.

Seven keeping his eyes on her, stretched for the bedside drawer where he took out a condom. He tore the wrap, unbuckling his belt with ease. Sliding down his pants and briefs in one swift motion, he rolled on the condom, settled between her legs, and pushed in slow.

Her eyes fluttered, making him stop halfway.

“Breathe. Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s good. Keep going.”

He did. Deep and measured at first, watching every flicker across her face. When she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer he picked up the pace, then slowed again when her nails dug into his back. He shifted the angle, found the one that made her cry out, and stayed there, driving into it until she came again, harder, voice cracking on his name.

He followed not long after, forehead pressed to hers, the usual noise in his head gone completely.

They didn’t stop. He took her again, slower, almost lazy, then once more when she woke him with wandering hands and a whispered “again?”

By the time they finally slept, the day was almost breaking.

***

Noelle woke up around noon, body aching in all the right places.

She looked around in confusion at first. "Where the hell am I..."

Then the memories of the night crashed into her. The bar. The stool. The guy.

Oh.

She sat up slow and looked at the person next to her, a smile spreading across her face.

Seven was still asleep. Face all relaxed. No sharp jaw, no dark eyes, no "I run this city" energy. Just... a guy. And a stupidly pretty one.

He looked young. Her age, maybe a couple years older max.

His hair was dark brown. Almost black in the shadows, but warm in the light. Messy, thick, and soft. She couldn’t help it, her hand drifted out and threaded through it. It wasn’t silky. It was that perfect guy-hair. A little coarse, a little tousled, like he ran his hands through it when he was stressed.

Down his face. Straight nose. Strong jaw with a faint shadow of stubble. His clean and smooth Skin was fair, but tanned with light freckles spread across his chest.

The sheets had slipped down to his waist.

And oh.

Massive chest. Ripped. Defined abs that actually had shadows between them. That V-line cutting down from his hips and disappearing under the sheet like an arrow pointing to trouble.

He was a work of art.

Perfection.

Everything Drake would never be in five lifetimes.

And yeah. He definitely knew how to do his job.

Sighing, she smiled to herself in satisfaction and slipped out of bed.

The humiliating memory of Drake no longer stung as much as it did last night.

"Male escorts really knew how to do it," she thought.

Good sex was truly the best cure for a heartbreak.

She found her dress and her bag, and a notepad on the nightstand. She counted out cash, more than she could really afford right now and left it on the coffee table with a tip of the small chocolate cake she’d made and brought with her to gift Drake. On a scrap of paper she wrote a note with her red lipstick.

"I'll request you again next time," she blew him a kiss and tiptoed out.