My Beautiful Billionaire Nightmare

Ara

My heart wouldn't stop pounding, and the tears I'd been fighting so hard to keep at bay rolled down my cheeks. I couldn't believe the scene unfolding before my eyes.

My fiancé was fucking my best friend in his hotel room! I watched with disgust as he thrusted his hips against hers, throwing his head back and moaning out loud for me to hear.

My best friend raked her perfectly manicured nails over his back, screaming his name out loud and asking him to fuck her harder and faster.

They both knew I was standing right there in the room, watching. He had invited me to visit him, he had said we would have the most amazing night of our lives.

He lied to me! How could he? Just one week to our wedding?

With my own best friend? How could Emily ever do this to me?

I should have known she was never my best friend, not with how she stared at me the whole time Gabe slid in and out of her.

I took one step backward, my legs too frozen to carry me out of the cursed hotel room. I choked on my sobs, praying for the strength not to break down in front of them.

Gabe never paused to look behind him, never stopped to spare me a glance. He'd wanted me to come in and find him balls deep inside my best friend.

“Ah, yes, that's it, Gabe. I'm going to come….fuuuuuck!”

I turned, disgusted with myself for lingering longer than necessary. I pulled the door open and stumbled out of the room with Emily's cry of ecstasy chasing me.

The hallway was silent as I walked past the doors and away from the biggest heartbreak of my life.

I didn't bother wiping my cheeks as the tears rolled down. There would be no wedding after this. Gabe clearly was tired of me.

And he chose to tell me in the most heartless way possible.

My feet carried me out of Oakland Hotel obediently, and soon I was mindlessly flagging down a cab.

I needed to go somewhere and forget about my misery. I climbed into the backseat and wiped my cheeks.

Gabe and Emily were not worth my tears. They didn't deserve even one teardrop.

I asked the cab man to drop me at the first stop after Oakland Hotel, and I found myself face to face with Grind and Ride, one of the most notorious clubs in New York.

I had never visited a club like this before, not with the rumors and stories about the dirty things inside it.

Right now, I didn't give a damn one bit. I wanted to forget about tonight, and what better way than inside a club like Grind and Ride?

I swallowed dryly and ignored the warning bells ringing in my head. I was walking through the revolving doors before I knew it, and though the lights were dim, I could make out the bar.

Good. I would drink myself to stupor until I forgot my own name.

I ordered for a shot of vodka for starters. My throat burned in protest as I swallowed the shot in one gulp.

Then I asked for another shot. And another.

I needed to forget about Gabe thrusting and grunting above Emily who seemed to enjoy it more with me standing there, watching with wide eyes.

Soon, my bladder began to sing. When I was sure I would piss my pants if I didn't relieve myself of the pressure, I asked for the restroom.

I stumbled and staggered past the sea of dancing bodies as I tried to navigate my way to the restroom. Was it left or right?

Shadows danced in my vision, and the ground was rising to meet me. Or was I falling? I quickly grabbed on to the nearest person to stop myself from falling face first.

Whoever it was pushed me roughly to the side like I was a weightless rag doll.

Where was the damn restroom? I'd wanted to forget about tonight, but not the part that had to do with the direction to the restroom.

I walked ahead some more, up the stairs—why was I walking up the stairs? —and for some stupid reason, started walking past the doors and stopped right in front of a black door with VIP SUITE engraved onto the top of the door.

The lights up here were dim and cozy and screamed at me to run the hell back down the stairs.

I did no such thing. I pushed the door open and held my breath. The lights inside blinked blue, red and green at intervals, and I caught a faint whiff of cigarettes as I staggered inside.

The lights stopped blinking the moment I reached the center of the room, and I froze in my tracks when I heard the door shutting close.

Someone was in the room with me.

Between the dull blue light and the naturally dim lighting of the room, I couldn't see anymore than I had already seen when I'd stepped inside the suite.

I tried to turn but a strong arm went to my waist, pinning me to a solid wall of hard muscle and warm flesh.

A delicious sensation traveled down to my core where I was already aching.

I tried to move away but I only succeeded in making him press me tighter against his front.

“What is a little lamb like you doing in my suite?” A deep baritone growled.

His breath was hot on my neck, and when I tried to move away, the movement pressed my ass against his groin.

“You're asking for trouble, little lamb. Do you know that?" He asked, his fingers trailing up and down my hips, then up my hips, past the curve of my waist and underneath my breasts.

I moaned when his fingers brushed my nipples as they traveled up my chest and to my neck where he wrapped his hands around my throat.

I nearly moaned right there.

Was I about to let a total stranger touch me intimately in the VIP suite of one of the dirtiest clubs in New York?

His other hand went to my front, his fingers dragging up the hem of my dress until I could feel his hot fingers on my naked thigh.

“Do you want trouble?" He squeezed the inside of my thigh and I let a moan slip out of me.

I nodded, and his fingers around my neck tightened.

“Use your words, little lamb." His low growl in my ear was all I needed to melt in his arms.

When he brushed the apex of my thighs, I ground my hips against him and he groaned.

"I want trouble.” I could only manage a weak whisper.

I was about to unravel from just the feel of his fingers toying with me.

"You asked for it.” Desire, hot and dangerous, oozed from his words as he turned me to face him.

The air fled from my lungs at the sight of the man in front of me. The lights had started blinking again, and fuck, he had to be the most magnificent work of art.

There was no time to appreciate his features as he grabbed me from under my thighs and led me to the table by the side.

He cleared off the pile on the table and deposited me on it. Before I could say Jack Robinson, he lifted me up by the knees and started kissing the insides of my thighs, up to my pulsing center.

He lifted his head to look at me for a second before lowering his head and pinching aside my underwear.

My hips bucked off the table when I felt his hot tongue on my clit.

He growled and pressed his hand on my stomach to keep me still. He didn't stop his assault on my pussy with his wicked tongue.

He licked, sucked and teased me until I forgot my name was Ara.

He lapped up my juices, sucking and slipping his tongue inside me.

He slipped one finger inside me and began to thrust inside me with languid strokes.

He added another finger before increasing the tempo of his thrusts.

I came with a loud cry, but he didn't stop. He added another finger, fingering me without mercy and tongue-fucking me like I was a new flavor of candy.

As I came for the second time, the realization of what I'd just allowed to happen settled over me like a cold blanket.

I'd just climaxed twice with the head of a total stranger between my legs.