His touch is gentle at first, but it’s clear he’s holding back from bending me over and fucking me hard against the wall. Most menonly care about their own pleasure, but this stranger takes his precious time kneading my skin, driving me closer to the edge.
I’m panting against his sensual hands and want to see his face. Cupping his jaw, I force his face to look down at me. He halts in his tracks, breathing hard. Our foreheads rest together, our lips barely an inch apart. The tension sparks embers with every flutter of his lashes, igniting a fire deep inside me.
Golden eyes blink back at me, shining with yearning and desire so ardent, my heart skips a beat.
No one has ever looked at me likethat.
“Take me here and now. And never let go.”
I don’t recognize myself. I’ve never been the type to recklessly let my desires get the best of me. Yet here I am saying naughty things to a complete fucking stranger. And the worst part is I’m enjoying every damn second of it.
“Anything for you.” His tone is confident as he picks me up and carries me to the king-sized bed. I wrap my legs around his waist and feel his length, hard and ready, poking my ass. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”
I wonder which lucky fellow he’s thinking of.
I wish it were me.
8
Visha
When I got back to the hotel room this morning after grabbing breakfast for us, Aoi had vanished into thin air. He didn’t leave as little as a note, and it filled me with immense disappointment.
Before I left the room, he was still passed out on the bed, wrapped in white sheets without a care in the world–only to run off less than half an hour later. I can still smell the sweet scent of jasmine and citrus in the air.
I descend into the lobby in search of Aoi, contemplating asking the hotel receptionist if they’ve seen him, but it’s unnecessary. There he is, standing by a cream-colored leather sofa, seemingly waiting for someone. He continuously taps his foot against the floor, impatiently glaring at his phone and rubbing his temple.
My gorgeous and divine Aoi.
His light brown hair is messy, and his ocean eyes are tired. The closer I get, the clearer the sound of foot tapping becomes. “Good morning, I didn’t think I’d find you here,” I greet, smiling too brightly.
Aoi halts in his tracks, slowly looking around for the person I addressed, as if he’s not the only one standing in front of me. “Excuse me, do you mean me?”
“Who else would I be talking to?”
He scratches an invisible itch at the back of his nape, nervously fidgeting with his phone. “Oh, I’m sorry if I sound rude, but I don’t know who you are, sir. Might you have the wrong person?”
Wow. Just motherfucking wow.
Last night, he was gripping my cock so tightly as though his life depended on it, but today he can’t even remember my face? This can’t be true. Is he serious? Is he faking it, or does he really not remember? Astonished, I stare at him. He doesn’t seem to be lying. He bites his bottom lip, seeming uncomfortable as we stand in an awkward silence.
“We met last night during the party organized by Frank Williams,” I explain, trying to sound unbothered, and flex my hand at my side.
He looks confused, as though he truly doesn’t know who I am. This is fucking annoying. Here I thought we had a memorable, sheet-gripping night, but I seem to be the only one who remembers. Aoi’s cheeks flush, visibly embarrassed that he forgot our encounter.
I don’t even know what’s worse. Him not remembering the toe-curling sex we had, or him not recognizingme.
We spent three freaking years together. How does he not recognize my face? Yeah, I know. It’s been eight years since the last time we saw each other, but so what?
How can he not remember me after last night? I’m going to make sure I’m anchored in his mind. His whole body will memorizemy touch. I’ll make sure he knows how I’ve been yearning for him these past years.
I’ve been his since the day he found me.
“Oh, sorry. I must’ve drunk a bit too much last night because I can’t seem to recall much from the evening,” he says, offering me a smile.
They used to be bright and warm. Now, they’re polite and void of emotion. The smile of a porcelain doll. What the fuck happened to him during my absence? How can a person change so drastically? I’ve never seen someone go from a glittering angel to a dull, withered flower.
What happened to you, my Paradise?
