Chapter 3 : One Night Stand With a Stranger

MARTHA’S POV

I stood there, still catching my breath, the club’s chaos pulsing around me. The mysterious man loomed over the two drunks he’d just shoved off, his broad shoulders tense. My heart thudded, half from fear, half from the sight of him—those piercing blue eyes, that chiseled jaw, like some angel dropped into this hellhole. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and forced the words out.

“Thank you,” I said, voice shaky. “Thank you for saving me from them. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up.”

He turned, his gaze locking onto mine, sharp and unreadable. “Why are you here if you’re not into this?” He jerked his head toward the mess of bodies behind us—people moaning, groping, lost in their own filth.

I swallowed hard, cheeks burning. “I didn’t know this was that kind of club. I came for my cousin.”

He raised an eyebrow, almost smirking. “Who doesn’t know about Neon Pulse? It’s a damn orgy party. You didn’t get the memo?”

“I didn’t know!” I snapped, louder than I meant. “I just moved to Seattle today. I only came to find my cousin.”

He studied me for a second, then shrugged. “Good luck with that.” He turned to walk away, his leather jacket catching the strobe lights.

I glanced around, panic creeping back in. The club had gotten worse—three people tangled in a corner, hands everywhere, a woman giggling as a guy stripped her bare. Another couple went at it against the wall, shameless and loud. My stomach churned, bile rising. I couldn’t handle this. I couldn’t find Lily in this mess, and I sure couldn’t stay here alone.

“Wait!” I grabbed his arm, desperation clawing at me. “I can’t find her. It’s too much.”

He stopped, looking down at my hand on his sleeve, then back at my face. “You can’t find her? Look around—everyone’s busy.”

“I see that,” I muttered, letting go. My eyes darted to the floor, then back at him. “But… would you like to sit for a drink or something?”

His lips twitched, like he might laugh. “A drink? Sure. Come on.” He nodded toward a quieter corner, and I followed, legs wobbly but grateful.

I needed this—something to numb the mess of my life. For months, I’d avoided bars, clubs, anything fun. Nicholas had turned into a stalking nightmare after the divorce, popping up at random, his threats keeping me on edge. I’d stayed sober, cautious, always looking over my shoulder. But tonight? I was free, sort of. My uncle didn’t care if I came home—he’d rather I didn’t. Aunt Claire might worry, but she’d understand. What was one night to drown my pathetic soul?

He led me to a private lounge, a roped-off spot with plush black couches and dim lighting. A group of people lounged there, drinks in hand, but he gave them a single hard look. They scattered fast, grabbing their bottles and stumbling away. I blinked, impressed but not surprised. He had that kind of power, the kind that didn’t need words. We sat, and a waitress appeared, dropping off a tray of shots—clear liquid, probably vodka. I grabbed one, tossed it back, and winced as it burned my throat. Good. I took another, then a third, the warmth spreading fast.

He watched me, leaning back with his own glass. “You just moved to Seattle, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, the fourth shot loosening my tongue. “Came to restart my pathetic life.”

He sipped his drink, eyes narrowing. “Pathetic how?”

I laughed, short and bitter. “Oh you know, the usual. I’m running away from my violent ex and I’m here now crashing with my uncle who hates me.” I waved a hand, the room tilting slightly. “Same old story.”

He nodded slowly, like he got it. “Sounds rough.”

“Rough doesn’t cover it,” I mumbled, grabbing another shot. The vodka hit harder now, fuzzing my edges. I didn’t care. I needed this—needed to blur the pain, the fear, the memory of Nicholas’s voice snarling in my ear.

He set his glass down, frowning. “Hey, slow down. You’re taking too much.”

I giggled, the sound sloppy and strange. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he said, voice firm. “You’re drunk. Let me take you home.”

I shook my head, the lounge spinning. “No, no, I don’t want to go back there. Not yet.” I leaned closer, the alcohol buzzing through me, bold and reckless.

Ovulation day plus vodka—I was a mess, a little devil waking up inside. I grabbed his arm when he tried to stand, pulling him back down. He landed close, our knees brushing.

“Stay,” I purred, my hand sliding up his arm. “I just want to get my mind off things. Help me, please.”

His eyes widened, then darkened. “You don’t mean that. You’re drunk and I’m a total stranger. Let me take you home.”

I didn’t budge, leaning in, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered seductively. “I mean it. Help me forget.”

He pulled back, jaw tight. “You’re not thinking straight. Come on.”

I grabbed his shirt, tugging him toward me, and kissed him. Hard. He froze for a second, then kissed me back, his hands finding my waist. Heat exploded between us, the vodka fueling my haze. I pressed closer, desperate, tasting salt and smoke on his lips.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, pulling away just enough to look at me.

“Yes,” I breathed, dragging him in again. “Please fuck me.”

He groaned, giving in as he scooped me up, slinging me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. I squealed, giggling as he carried me out of the club, the cool night air hitting my face. He set me down by a car—a sleek black Mercedes, all curves and shine, sexy as hell in the streetlights. I gaped, swaying on my feet.

“That’s a Mercedes,” I slurred, running a hand over the hood. “Wow.”

“Get in,” he said, opening the passenger door. I resisted, pouting, but he guided me inside, firm but gentle. The leather seats hugged me, and I sank back, head spinning.

He slid into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a low purr, he sighed as he gripped the wheel. I didn’t ask anything, I just watched as the city blurred past, lights streaking like stars. He drove fast, confident, pulling up to a fancy hotel with a glowing sign—too bright, too much. He parked, got out, and helped me stumble to the lobby. My legs wobbled, but I clung to his arm, laughing at nothing.

He booked a room, quick and quiet, and led me to the elevator. I leaned into him, nuzzling his neck, the vodka making me bold. “You’re so pretty,” I mumbled, kissing his jaw.

“Careful, stranger,” he said, but his voice was rough, wanting. The elevator dinged, and he half-carried me to the room, unlocking the door with a swipe.

Inside, he set me on the bed, stepping back.

“Sleep it off. I’m leaving.”

“No…no!” I grabbed his wrist, pulling him down. He landed beside me, and I climbed onto his lap, kissing him deep, messy, hungry. He hesitated, then kissed me back, hands sliding up my sides. I tugged at his shirt, fumbling with buttons until it fell open, revealing hard muscle and warm skin. My fingers traced his chest, greedy.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he warned, but I silenced him with my mouth, pushing him flat on the bed. He groaned, hands gripping my hips, and yanked my dress up. The fabric bunched around my waist, cool air hitting my thighs. I straddled him, heat pooling low, my lips finding his neck, sucking hard.

He flipped us, pinning me down, his weight heavy and perfect. His shirt hit the floor, my dress followed, and our hands were everywhere—frantic, needy. He kissed my collarbone, slow and searing, then lower, peeling off my bra. I arched into him, gasping, nails digging into his back. His pants came off next, and I pulled him closer, skin burning against skin.

The room spun, but I didn’t care. He moved over me, deliberate, every touch igniting me. I clung to him, lost in the blur of alcohol and desire, his breath hot against my ear. We collided, raw and wild, the bed creaking under us. My hands roamed his shoulders, his hair, urging him on. He pressed deeper, and I moaned, loud and shameless, chasing the escape I’d begged for.

It built fast—too fast—and crashed over me, a wave of heat and release. He followed, shuddering, collapsing beside me, both of us panting. The ceiling spun above, and I laughed, soft and sloppy, rolling into his side.

“Worth it,” I mumbled, eyes drooping, the vodka pulling me under.