"She was hurt by a bastard. I wanted to protect her, but I can't." I stared into the amber liquid in my glass, bitter. "I can't do a damn thing."
"Some things can't be changed, no matter how hard you try." She leaned closer, her hand brushing mine. "You're exhausted. Tonight, let everything stop."
Her aggressive perfume surrounded me—thick, sweet, nothing like Anthea's soft scent. My head swam. I forgot what I was going to say. I just saw her face getting closer. If she were Anthea... I didn't push her away.
When her lips touched mine, they tasted like sour wine. My hand cupped the back of her head, deepening the kiss.
"Anthea..." I mumbled the name.
She didn't correct me. Then her fingers wrapped around my tie, pulling me toward the hotel across the street. When the door closed, I pinned her against it, shoving my hand roughly up her skirt.
"You're really desperate." She laughed low in my ear.
I kissed her harder, driving two fingers inside her, searching this stranger's body for some shadow of Anthea. She moaned, the sound hitting my nerves like a stimulant. Even under this rough treatment, she was soaking wet. I pulled my fingers out, frantically unzipped, and freed my aching cock.
I didn't take off her dress, just let the blue fabric bunch at her waist. Anthea loved dresses like this. Sweet and modest.
But now? I treated this woman like Anthea, lifting one of her legs into the crook of my arm. I thrust hard, burying myself to the hilt. Tight, hot flesh wrapped around me instantly.
"Ah, no!" She screamed, pain and pleasure mixed.
"Your pussy says otherwise," I rasped in her ear, voice filthy. "You're clenching me, Anthea."
I gripped her waist and started pounding. Her body bounced with my movements, her back slamming the door.
But the woman beneath me was too practiced. Her waist moved like a snake, her inner walls contracting at just the right moments to please me. She tilted her head back, eyes sultry and hazy, meeting every thrust with practiced skill.
This wasn't Anthea. Anthea was inexperienced, pure. The thought made me furious. I yanked off my tie and blindfolded her. Vision stolen, she clutched my shoulders in panic.
Covering those brown eyes, leaving just the lower half of her face and that familiar dress, she finally looked more like Anthea.
"Squeeze tighter," I ordered, slamming into her viciously again.
After I'd vented against the door, I didn't pull out. I hoisted her up by the ass and carried her. With each step, my cock ground and rubbed inside her, making her cry out.
I crossed to the bed and threw her onto the soft mattress, climbing on top.
I tossed my glasses aside. The world blurred. The blonde woman in front of me completely merged with Anthea in my vision.
I knew she wasn't Anthea. But tonight, I needed to pretend. I spread her legs, folding them toward her chest in a completely open position, and kept fucking her hard.
"Say my name." I bore down on her, hips pistoning like a jackhammer.
"Julian..." She moaned on cue.
I closed my eyes, imagining it was Anthea's voice. Then I took her again and again, until I was completely spent.
Headache.That was the first thing I felt when I woke. My skull felt like someone had worked it over with a hammer. Where was I? I barely opened my eyes. Unfamiliar bed. White ceiling. The room's minimalist decor told me I was in a hotel.
"Good morning, Mr. Voss." A lazy, smug voice came from beside me. "Sleep well last night?"
I turned. The woman from last night lay naked next to me, chin propped on her hand, watching me. She looked pleased. Her hair was now a bold red. The blonde wig from yesterday was tossed carelessly on the floor.
"You..." My voice scraped out of my throat. "Who are you?"
I remembered everything from last night. I'd pretended she was Anthea, and then...
"Let me introduce myself." She sat up, completely unconcerned about her nudity. "Vanessa Zaitseva."
