Anabella Pov
The club is a glittering sanctuary of mine. I'm an accountant at the soulless Astor Group, and my boss, Killian Astor, is the reason.
I've never actually spoken to the man, but his reputation precedes him like a storm. He's a whirlwind of fury and perfectly tailored suits, a pathological perfectionist who makes my work life a living hell.
He's also, frustratingly, unfairly hot, all sharp angles and lean muscle, with a jawline that could cut glass and eyes that look like obsidian shards.
I often daydream about working for the rival Sterling Group, where the CEO, Luciano Pavarotti, is rumored to be strict but compassionate. He's a walking wet dream with a smile that could melt gold.
My friend Claire nudges me, pulling me out of my corporate-induced stupor. "Are you even listening to me?" she asks.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Totally. Shots. Let's do it," I mumble. I'm here to forget, and with six shots of tequila coursing through my veins, I'm well on my way.
The dance floor is a thumping chaos of bodies. The bass vibrates through the soles of my shoes, up my legs, and into my very soul. Claire was right; it feels good to move, to let the rhythm consume me.
My body, which I usually hide in demure blouses, is on full display tonight in the little black dress Claire insisted on. I'm curvy, with a big ass that makes people wonder if I've had a BBL. My thick frame glasses which I usually have on are replaced with a contact lens, making my deep blue eyes more attractive when they are not hidden. I feel two hot stares on me, following every sway of my hips, but I'm too gone to find their owners.
The music becomes a little too much, and I stumble toward the bar, a giggling, clumsy mess. I decide the world is spinning too fast and the bathroom is my next destination. But somewhere between the main floor and the restroom signs, I take a wrong turn and find myself in a quiet, dark hallway. I fumble for a doorknob, and it gives way. I tumble into a room, the door swinging shut behind me.
It's a private suite, a place for people with more money than sense. There's a giant, soft-looking bed in the middle of the room. I practically fall onto the mattress, the silky sheets a luxury I've only ever dreamed of. I'm about to stand up when the door opens again.
A tall silhouette fills the doorway. I can't make out the face, but the broad shoulders, the powerful stance, it's oddly familiar. He walks toward me with a slow, deliberate grace, a predator stalking his prey.
Before I can even protest, his lips are on mine, firm and demanding. I'm jolted to life, my body reacting with a desperate, starved urgency. I shouldn't be doing this, but I am, and the stranger lifts me effortlessly, his arms wrapping around my waist until I'm pressed against him, eye-level with his lips. He devours my mouth, and I meet his passion with my own, blaming my abandon on the alcohol.
His hands unzip my dress. It's a discarded heap on the floor. In a fluid motion, he flips me over, and I'm facedown on the bed, my undies gone. He pulls my legs apart, his touch firm and possessive. I feel a pang of shock, but no shame. My body is singing a song I didn't know it knew, a song of desire, of needs that have gone unmet for far too long.
My thoughts are cut off by the glorious intrusion of his fingers. I cry out, a muffled moan of pure pleasure, my hips bucking instinctively. I'm a dripping, begging mess, my body a foreign entity entirely at his command.
The door opens again.
This time, I see a flash of golden hair and a figure that stands watching. My arousal, already at a fever pitch, skyrockets. I've never been with two men, and the thought of it is both terrifying and unbelievably arousing. I feel a second touch, this one a gentle, warm caress, and then the blissful sensation of a mouth on my breast.
But then, I feel a new presence, a different energy at my entrance. Something thick and heavy.
"I'm going to go slow," a deep, dominating voice rumbles against my ear. His voice is making my entrance ache with anticipation.
His words are a direct command, and I can't help but obey. "You're so tight, baby. So perfect."
He pushes into me slowly, and I gasp, a sound of awe and disbelief. I'm stretched to my limit, and I'm ready to shatter.
"I feel you, baby," he says, his voice a low, encouraging growl. He pulls back, just a little, then pushes in again, deeper this time. I can't help the moan that escapes my lips, every part of me screaming for more.
The golden-haired man is with me now, his touch a gentle and different to the other one's dominance. His lips and hands are everywhere, and I'm caught between two different storms.
"Just let go, Annabella," a smooth, reassuring voice whispers in my other ear. "I've got you. I'm right here."
My body responds to his calm promise, to his gentle touch. It's a beautiful, overwhelming contradiction. "I know," I whisper back, my voice thick with pleasure. "Oh my god, I know."
The First stranger movements become more urgent, and he thrusts into me, filling me completely.
"You're mine," he growls, a primal possessiveness in his voice.
"All mine." The room fills with my moans, a chorus of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Then, I feel it. "I'll make use of that mouth of yours, love," a low, sexy voice whispers in my ear.
The golden-haired man is in front of me now, and I feel a kiss on the back of my neck before something smooth and impossibly large enters my mouth. I feel like I'm going to pass out from pleasure.
Both men are moving, deep, hard, and fast.
My logic cuts off. I can only feel, only react. My moan is now a choked gasp of pleasure, a new kind of surrender.
"Such a good girl," He whispers, his voice a soft caress as he thrusts into my mouth. I'm being handled by two gods, one dominating me from below, the other filling my mouth. The room is filled with our moans, a beautiful, chaotic sound of pure pleasure.
My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, a long, drawn-out cry of release. I feel the golden haired presence, his soothing touch, as he takes over, his lips finding mine.
"It's okay," he whispers. "Just let go."
And in that moment, I do. I let go, and the world goes black.