Chapter 3: One Night Stand With A Stranger

Aria's pov

I made my way through the crowded bar, navigating the labyrinth of bodies and the pulsing beats of the music. The dim lights cast everything in a seductive haze, making the whole atmosphere feel like a dark, intoxicating dream. I approached the bar, and the bartender—young with a dimpled smile—was quick to notice me.

His smile was cute, but something about him screamed inexperienced. He wasn't the type to handle a woman like me.

"I'll have vodka. Neat," I said, keeping it simple for him.

"A vodka girl," I heard a voice say from beside me. I turned to see a woman sitting a couple of seats down, eyeing me with curiosity. She was striking, with dark hair and eyes that reminded me of someone I knew—Brittany, the head of my department, to be exact. But there was something different about this woman. Her elegance was undeniable, but there was a subtle wildness about her too, something hidden beneath the surface.

"I don't do weak fruity drinks," I said with a smirk, gesturing toward her glass. "What about you? What's your poison?"

"Tequila," she replied, her lips curving into a knowing smirk of her own.

I raised an eyebrow. "Bold choice," I commented.

"I'm Julia," she said, extending her hand.

"Aria." We shook hands, and I immediately felt a connection. The sort of connection that suggested she might just be the kind of woman who understood how to play the game.

The bartender returned with my vodka, and I didn't waste any time. I knocked back the shot with a grin. The warmth spread down my throat, relaxing my tense muscles. It felt good to be here, away from the stress of the office.

Julia chuckled as she watched me. "You don't waste time, do you?"

"Why should I?" I replied, turning toward her. "It's the only thing I've got left to do tonight."

We took a few more shots together, and I started to feel the buzz settle in, loosening my shoulders, making my body feel lighter.

"What brings you here?" I asked after a beat, curiosity getting the best of me.

"I just flew in. Getting myself acquainted with the town." She took a sip of her drink, the ice clinking softly.

"And the clubs," I teased with a sly grin.

She laughed. "Definitely the clubs. You?"

"I'm looking to get laid," I said bluntly, not bothering to sugarcoat anything. If she was going to judge me, then she wasn't the kind of girl I needed around.

Her eyes widened comically for a moment, but then she recovered, a smile playing at her lips. "Well, I respect the honesty. But if you're looking to get laid, you should probably head to the VIP section."

"VIP?" I raised an eyebrow. "Unfortunately, I'm not a VIP."

Julia shrugged nonchalantly, a wicked gleam in her eye. "I can get you in."

"Who are you?" I asked, now genuinely curious.

Her smile didn't falter. "Do you want to get in or not?"

I blinked, but before I could say anything, she was already sliding off her stool, making her way toward the bouncer guarding the entrance to the VIP area. She whispered a few words into his ear, and he glanced at me before nodding in acknowledgment.

I gaped at her. "Aren't you going in?"

"No," she replied casually. "I'm not looking to get laid tonight."

With a wink, she turned to me and said, "But if you give me your number, we can talk later."

I gave her my digits, and she saved them on her phone with a smirk. "Good luck getting laid."

Then, she disappeared into the crowd, and I found myself standing at the entrance to the VIP section, wondering what kind of world I had just entered.

I walked past the bouncer who gave me a nod as I passed and entered the exclusive area. It was less crowded, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars, whiskey, and leather. A few men were seated around a poker table, their eyes half-lidded as they puffed on their cigarettes. Some had women dancing on their laps, others were just watching the game, lost in their own thoughts.

I scanned the room, but none of the men caught my attention. They were all a little too... predictable for my taste. None of them stood out enough to make me want to linger.

After a few moments, I decided to retreat to a secluded corner. I slid into a chair, crossing my legs and letting my eyes roam across the room as I waited for something—or someone—to spark my interest.

Then, I felt it.

The distinct sensation of someone watching me.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I instinctively turned my head to scan the crowd. At first, I saw nothing, but then my gaze landed on him.

He was sitting in the shadows, his presence almost too commanding to be ignored. He was tall—at least 6'2", with thick jet-black hair and piercing sea-green eyes as dark as coal. His sharp jawline and the cigarette hanging between his lips gave him an air of effortless danger.

He had a look of familiarity, though the buzz in my brain kept me from placing it.

When our eyes met, he stood up slowly, and with a confident stride, he made his way toward me. There was something magnetic about the way he moved, and as he approached, the air between us seemed to thrum with unspoken tension.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked, his voice low, almost a challenge.

I glanced up at him, my gaze languid as I took him in. "You tell me," I replied, giving him a seductive glance. "You're the one who's been watching me."

He sat down without hesitation. "Well, I also noticed you haven't had a drink since you arrived. So I took the liberty of ordering one for you."

"How you're speaking so clearly despite being drunk is impressive," I teased, though I could smell the alcohol and cigarette smoke on his breath. But it wasn't unpleasant. It was... addicting.

"I'm not drunk," he corrected, his voice quiet but firm. "I'm buzzed."

A server arrived with our drinks, and I was surprised to see a martini in front of me. I glanced at it, then back at him. "No fruity drinks for me?"

"What if you like vanilla?" he whispered in my ear, his breath sending a shiver down my spine.

I clenched my thighs together, the heat pooling in my core. "You wouldn't touch vanilla with a ten-inch pole," he murmured against my ear, and I felt a surge of heat flood through me.

He knew exactly what to say to turn me on.

I could feel his eyes on me, tracking my every movement, watching the way I reacted to his touch. I wasn't about to let him think he had the upper hand, so I reached over, placing my hand on his suit-clad thigh. Slowly, I grazed my nails along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, teasing him.

"Don't play games with me, sweetheart," he warned in a low growl. "I'm not a patient man. And I don't have time for games."

"Well, that's too bad," I replied, a wicked grin spreading across my face. "I happen to love games."

His eyes darkened as he curled his hand around my thigh, pushing it open with possessive force. I gasped but didn't pull away. He dragged his hand slowly up my thigh, closer to where I needed him, then back down again.

I forced back a sound of frustration. He was pushing my limits, but I wasn't about to let him win so easily.

I slid my hand up and cupped the bulge in his slacks. He was already hard, and I couldn't help but stroke him softly, running my perfectly manicured nails over his length.

His breath hitched, and his lips parted as he groaned. He leaned in, capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss. The urgency in his kiss took me by surprise, and I melted into him. He kissed like he was trying to make a point—a promise of what was to come. Hard, rough, and unapologetically dirty.

When he pulled away, I could feel the slickness between my thighs, and my breath came faster.

"Do you want to get out of here?" I whispered, my voice thick with desire.

He flashed me a grin, that dangerous, confident smile that made my heart race. "I thought you'd never ask."

He slapped a wad of cash on the table, then stood up, taking my hand. We walked out of the VIP section, and by the time we reached the door, he had me pushed up against it, kissing me fiercely. His hands were everywhere—stroking, squeezing, claiming me in ways I didn't think I'd let anyone.

His hand slipped under my dress, finding the soaked fabric of my underwear. He pulled away, his eyes flicking to mine.

"Last chance to back out" He murmured, his voice dangerously calm.

I didn't need a second to think about it, "If you don't take me to a hotel right now," I said, narrowing my eyes. "I will murder you,"

With a low chuckle, he led me toward the waiting black car and the night was far from over. It has just begun.