ABIGAIL

Having grabbed two mugs from the cupboard—because she didn’t have any glasses for expensive alcohol—Abigail nestled them on the coffee table in front of Alexander.

He briefly assessed the mugs and glanced at her. “Do you not have something more fitting?”

“Sorry, I’m all out of Glencairn glasses,” Abigail replied and collapsed into a seat next to him. She tucked her legs under her, watching his profile with interest. Every movement of his hand was well-practiced and almost masterful. She noted that he had removed his suit jacket and, in the time it took for her to get the mugs, he had already rolled up his sleeves, exposing his expensive platinum watch.

He poured their drinks and handed her a mug. “Tell me, why did you choose to bring such a man to your home?”

“Are you talking about yourself?” Taking a sip of her drink, she hid behind her mug to study his reaction.

Alexander remained indifferent. He relaxed into the corner of the sofa, facing her, and rested his left ankle on his right knee. The invitation was hard to miss. Abigail had to contain her hands, wrapping them tighter around her cup to keep from inching towards his broad chest. He even lifted his free arm over the back of her sofa, stretching his shirt over his sculpted torso.

“Do you see something you like, Abby?”

As if slapped across the face with a raw tuna, her mood soured with the use of the name she hated. “Could you stop calling me that?”

“Why?”

She scowled at him. “Because I asked you to?”

Alexander put his drink on the table and scooted close enough for her to smell his tropical cologne. He took away her drink, leaving her defenceless against his advances.

Her heart was in her throat when he rested his hand on her thigh. With unhurried movements, he inched it upward. “I believe it is a lovely name, an endearment even.”

“I’m not someone you can use endearments on.” She sucked in a breath when his hand stopped on her hip.

“Why not?” His grey eyes burned with unspoken inquiries.

She ignored his question and reached for her drink—an action which inadvertently pushed his hand away. Finishing her share of alcohol in two mouthfuls, she managed a nervous smile. “Are you going to tell me why you stalked me home? I don’t remember asking you to follow me and ruin my fun.”

“If I hadn’t followed you, I believe it would be a rather unpleasant time you would be having right now.”

Abigail’s head felt lighter than before. She glanced at the bottle of whiskey he left on the table. Because she didn’t have the time to eat anything that evening, the alcohol shot straight to her head. Even though she was buzzed, she denied her urge to touch him. The small preview of his milky skin, exposed by the top two undone buttons of his shirt, kept her interest for longer than she wanted to admit. Would he feel soft or hard under my fingertips? She licked her lips.

“Abigail…” His voice was like a mermaid’s song. It pushed her deeper into the fairy tale she wished to escape from and couldn’t.

The unnatural pull he had on her had to do with what he was. “What are you, Alexander?”

“I am a businessman,” he replied with a heart-stopping smile.

“You know that’s not what I mean. You’ve killed a man, drank blood from me, and tucked me in bed.” She lifted her attention back to his grey eyes. “You are not human, are you?”

“No. I am not.”

At that point, she didn’t care if he was mortal or not. She itched to find out what he tasted like. Would he have the flavour of whiskey we drank? Full of alcohol courage, she straddled his lap. “I’m going to forget about you once I get you out of my system.”

“It appears we are on the same wavelength.” He ran his hands up her thighs then grabbed hold of her ass.

She cupped his face and started off with a slow, tender kiss that soon became hungry with the fire that burned inside of her since she met him. Her desire to taste every inch of his sweet mouth urged her on.

Alexander groaned. A second later, her back was pressed against the nearest wall of her living room. The chill from the stone was pushed aside by the fire roaring through her body. His lips broke the fever-inducing kiss and started their journey down her neck while his deft fingers worked on the side zip of her cocktail dress.

“Let me,” she offered, lowering her legs. Gauging his reaction, she pulled the dress over her head and tossed it aside. A smirk stretched her lips when he took an appreciative look at her curves. She wasn’t skinny, but she was proud of her mother’s inherited wide hips and shapely breasts.

“Lost for words, Mr Grekov?” she asked, cocking her head to one side and spilling her red hair over her shoulders.

Alexander traced his fingers along her collarbone and down to the outline of her black lace bra. “I assure you, my tongue has better use in situations like this.”

A blush stained her cheeks once the meaning of his words sunk in. She caught his hand and led him to the bedroom. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “One night only. No strings attached. Got it?”

“Would you like that in writing?”

She giggled and closed the bedroom door behind them. Reaching for the buttons on his shirt, she wanted him to be on the same level as her—almost naked—but he stopped her.

“I will be the one to lead this dance.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Are you afraid of a woman taking your control away?”

“I’m not afraid—”

She kissed him, trapping the rest of his sentence in his mouth. Her hands freely roamed his chest, and she grabbed the material of his shirt before pulling it apart and popping the buttons off.

Alexander broke away from the kiss and scowled at her. “You ignored me.”

“Get used to it. In this bed, in this room, I am law,” she breathed and nibbled on his lower lip. “You are free to leave at any time.”

The fire in his eyes returned. “Please, continue.”

She didn’t need another invitation. Abigail unbuckled his belt and undid the button of his trousers. Sliding her hand into his boxers, she could feel him getting hard for her. Pleased with his reaction, she used her free hand to guide his lips to her neck. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Alexander brushed her hair aside. His soft lips trailed kisses along her jugular until he paused. “Do you want me to bite you?”

She grew wet at his whispered words. The unbearable need to possess him consumed her. “Bite me.”

He did. The sharp pain lasted for only one blissful second before pleasure tore through her system, and she moaned into his shoulder. Her arms wound around his neck, and he guided her to her bed.

Pushing her down, he climbed on top of her. He grabbed a handful of her hair and gently nudged her head to one side. His mouth sealed over her wound, and he bit into her again.

Abigail cried out her pleasure, confused by how such a raw and animalistic act could drive her closer to an orgasm.

His free hand undid her bra as he inched downwards. He stripped her naked, taking his time with the lace knickers which he slid down her long legs.

Nudging her legs apart, Alexander settled between them, and his finger sank inside her.

“Aren’t you just going to fuck me?” she asked.

He chuckled. “I am a firm believer in bringing pleasure to the women I bed.” He pushed the second finger in, stretching her walls and seeking her G-spot. When he found it and started to stroke it while rubbing her clit, her back arched.

“Alexander…” She gasped for breath as he continued playing with her.

“That is my name.” He moved up, never stopping the sweet torment, until their faces were inches apart. “And it is the name you will be screaming all night long, my dearest Abigail.”

She planted her hands on his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. He didn’t resist, letting her take the lead. Her hips started to move on their own to match the movements of his fingers. After a few minutes, she had to tear away from him to take in a breath. She wanted more of him. And more importantly, she wanted him inside of her.

He left soft kisses on her cheek and neck before he sucked her left nipple into his mouth and rolled it around with his tongue. Her body quivered under him, begging for release that was quickly approaching. She was ready to scream out his name as the multitude of sensations combined together in a swirl of never-ending pleasure.

His fangs brushed her breast, and that was the last drop. She grasped the bedsheets around her and moaned his name as he kept on guiding her through an overwhelming orgasm.

With a knowing smirk, he helped her sit on top of him and relaxed his back against the headboard. “Don’t tell me you are already spent.”

Abigail shook her head and tried to level her breathing. “Not at all.” She lowered herself onto his hard member and it slowly stretched her tight wet walls. Her fingers pressed against the headboard. He was bigger than she had expected.

Alexander looked at her and, resting one hand on her hip and the other on her breast, started to move her up and down his length.

She bit her lip. Lifting her face to the sky, she closed her eyes to enjoy every little sensation. His mouth found her other breast, and she picked up the pace, taking him in deeper. The longer she rode him, the more she wanted him to touch her. As if reading her mind, his hands cupped her breasts, and he toyed with the hardened nipples.

“More…” she murmured.

“As you wish.” He picked up the pace, plunging in and out of her as she tried to cling to her sanity. The headboard became her best friend. Her arms and legs were growing weak, but she couldn’t stop. The tsunami of tingling warmth that was building in her core was ready to break her into a million pieces.

A sheen of sweat formed on her skin. Her damp hair stuck to her face and shoulders, so she brushed it to one side, revelling in the breeze that ghosted along her back for a split-second. Alexander’s cool touch also kept her from overheating.

She lifted his face and captured his lips with hers. Her tongue explored his mouth, tasting the expensive whiskey. It was a moment she never thought she would share with a man like him.

There go the three meals in public out the window…

With the next push, she unravelled. Her hands slid to his shoulders as her nails sank into his skin. She called out his name with each rolling wave of electricity that graced her body.

“Do you need help moving?” he whispered in a husky voice.

She chuckled and nodded. It would have been less embarrassing if she had any sensations left in her lower half, but she didn’t. So, Abigail accepted his help, and he carefully moved her off him to lie on the bed next to him.

“Are you the cuddling or the smoking type?” she asked with a giggle.

“Neither.” He combed her damp hair away from her face and smiled. “I do hope you are not too tired to continue in a few minutes.”

She gaped at him. “You mean you didn’t come?”

“Like I have said, my partner’s pleasure is important to me. I will decide when I’m ready to finish.”

She propped herself up on a shaky elbow and walked her fingers up his sculpted chest. “I don’t think I could feel the next orgasm even if I wanted to.”

He raised a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

That man had to be a freaking magician. By the time he was done with her, she couldn’t move a muscle with the count of four orgasms in one night. Never, in her entire life, had she had a sexual partner like him. Each caress of his fingers, rub of his thumb, or lick of his tongue was executed at the right time and in the right place. It was as if he could read her like a music sheet, and she had no choice but to allow him to dominate her in every possible way. She wasn’t used to losing control during sex. Usually, she would ride out her orgasm on top of a guy then let him do as he pleased until he reached his own peak. But Alexander was pleasure itself. A single night with him was probably the worst decision she had ever made.

Abigail assessed her empty bed with a sigh. It was Sunday, and she was going to meet with Ursula to tell her all about Chris and the catastrophe of a date she had with him. She debated telling her friend about Alexander coming to her rescue or the night of passion she desperately wished she never had. Now that she let him into her bed, how was she supposed to forget him?

“I should stop drinking,” she told herself and changed into a pair of jeans and a baby blue cashmere sweater. Her legs were still a little shaky, but she tried to ignore it. Once she secured her hair into a ponytail, she ventured into the kitchen where she made a cup of coffee.

On the coffee table, Alexander had left their unfinished bottle of whiskey. She considered returning it to him but scowled at her greed towards him. He signed up for a one-night stand; nothing more and nothing less. She wasn’t about to turn into one of those women who chased after him at every turn. She had standards, and the sooner she could forget about their night together, the better.

The doorbell announced Ursula’s arrival, and Abigail set her cup down on the kitchen counter. She opened the door for her friend and grinned. “Hey there, sexy lady.”

Ursula paused, giving Abigail a once-over. “You got laid. I knew it!”

With a laugh, Abigail grabbed hold of her handbag and locked her apartment. “I’ll tell you everything soon enough,” she said, heading for the staircase. “But where on earth did you hear that Chris was a nice guy?”

“From Graham, the HR guy.” Ursula paused and her expression grew serious. “Why? Did he try something?”

“Well, no. Not exactly. I think he might have a concussion, though.”

Ursula’s mouth fell open. She grasped Abigail’s arm, pulling her to a stop as they were about to leave the apartment building. “What the hell happened last night?”

“You know the guy I was complaining about in the pub on Friday?”

“Yeah…”

“He saved me from an argument with Chris, and we…spent the night together,” Abigail explained, nudging her friend to start walking.

“No! You hook up with one guy and end up in bed with another? How do these things happen to you?”

Abigail wanted an answer to that as well. They turned the corner, and she pushed Ursula into a small café. She ordered a ham-and-cheese sandwich and a muffin with her coffee.

Ursula shot her curious glances every time she paused to add a new item to her list. She ended up getting a pot of tea with a lemon tart and a freshly baked croissant.

They settled in at a small corner table.

Ursula poured herself a cup of fresh tea and asked, “Okay, so does this mean you and the hot nightclub owner are dating now?”

Nearly spluttering her coffee all over the table, Abigail put her cup back on the saucer and swallowed. “No.”

“No? Then what? You had a one-night stand?”

“I asked for it. I thought it would help me forget about him,” Abigail admitted.

“And did it?”

Abigail’s shoulders slumped. “I think it may have had the opposite effect…”