One Night Stand with my Rude Boss

The Wrong Room

Beauty's POV

“Fuck!…Uhh… ahh! Mmmh!” I couldn’t stop the moans slipping out.

I had no business doing this. None. But my body didn’t care about reason. My fingers were already moving, sliding against my slick skin, each touch sending me closer to that dangerous edge.

It was reckless, shameless, but hell… what else was I supposed to do? The room was paid for, my ex was gone, and I refused to drown in heartbreak like some pitiful girl. If I couldn’t silence the betrayal in my head, then at least I could drown it in pleasure. A girl deserved one orgasm after catching her boyfriend screwing her cousin on the eve of our graduation trip.

So here I was, sprawled across the king-sized bed, one hand clutching the sheets, the other buried between my thighs, desperate to feel something… anything… that wasn’t grief.

The air conditioner hummed low, but even that faded behind the wet sounds of my fingers and the harsh rhythm of my breath.

“Ahh…ngh…!” I gasped, my back arching, lips parting as I drove my fingers faster.

My chest rose and fell unevenly, sweat dampening my skin despite the cold air. I wanted to lose myself in this, wanted to believe for just a second that I wasn’t broken, that my body wasn’t betraying my heart.

But betrayal clung to me like a second skin.

My cousin’s laugh echoed inside my skull… high, careless, cruel. My boyfriend’s voice, once warm and sweet, now low and guttural, groaning into another woman’s neck. Into my cousin’s neck.

The memory burned me like acid, and yet… it made my hand move faster.

“Fuck!” I cried softly, nails digging into the mattress as if pain could ground me.

I hated myself for this. For needing this. For moaning while tears prickled my lashes. But my body kept tightening, kept begging, and I couldn’t stop.

Images wouldn’t leave me. My cousin tangled in his arms, hair splayed on the very sheets I used to sleep in. His lips trailing down her throat, hands gripping her waist with a hunger he hadn’t shown me in months.

“Ahhh! Shit!” My moan cracked into the pillow.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they were together, that they laughed like the world belonged to them, while I lay here alone, chasing release like some kind of addict.

My thighs trembled. My belly tightened. Every thrust of my fingers dragged me closer to the peak I craved.

“Mmhh… aaahhh!” I moaned louder, the sound breaking free despite my biting my lip.

My body was trembling, my mind a mess of fury and need, heartbreak and desire. I hated that betrayal turned into fuel for my release, hated that I wanted to scream his name and my cousin’s in rage while crying out my own in ecstasy.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

“God… seriously?” I groaned, fumbling blindly with my free hand, swiping at the glowing screen.

Sandra. My best friend.

Of all times.

I pressed answer, voice shaky. “H-Hello?”

“Beauty?” Sandra’s voice chirped bright through the receiver. “Finally! I’ve been trying to reach you. Listen, the Venturi interview… they confirmed it’s next month. Monday morning, first slot. You need to…”

“I know,” I cut in quickly, my tone uneven, broken with gasps. “I heard you the first time.”

Sandra paused. “Okay… then why do you sound like you’re running a marathon? You’re breathing so hard.” A teasing lilt crept into her voice. “Don’t tell me… you’re doing something naughty, are you?”

I bit my lip hard, stifling a cry. My fingers curled deeper, wetter. A choked moan broke out anyway. “Uhh… ahh! Mmmh!”

Sandra gasped, then burst into laughter. “No way. Beauty! You’re seriously…”

“Shut up!” I groaned, my voice breaking, my face hot with shame and defiance. “Just… fuck off, Sandra!”

I stabbed the screen and tossed the phone aside before Sandra could say another word.

My whole body was on fire now.

“God… ahhh!” I cried out, burying my face into the pillow as my hips bucked against my own hand. Every nerve screamed, every sound from my lips louder, messier.

“Fuuuck!” I moaned, my voice raw, torn between fury and release.

My toes curled. My thighs shook. I was right there, seconds from spilling over.

The room filled with my cries, shameless and rough. “Ahh… ahhh… ahhh!”

My breath came ragged. My heartbeat slammed wild against my chest. I couldn’t stop now, even if I wanted to.

My body trembled harder, my free hand clawing at the sheets, dragging them toward me as though anchoring myself in the storm.

And then…

The door cracked open.

The sharp creak sliced through my haze like a blade.

I froze, every muscle locking, my body quivering at the edge but denied the release.

My head snapped toward the sound, eyes wide.

Footsteps followed… measured, calm, deliberate. The soft tap of polished shoes against the floor.

I sat upright instantly, dragging the blanket half over myself in panic, breath catching hard in my throat.

And then I saw him.

Tall. Broad. Fresh-faced yet intimidating, with skin fair and clean, features sharp enough to steal air from the room. His suit was dark and immaculate, tailored perfectly across his chest and shoulders, every line screaming wealth and power.

His hands rested casually in his pockets, his posture unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

And on his lips…

A smirk. Cold. Dangerous.

Not shock. Not embarrassment. No… he looked like a man who’d walked in on a hundred sins and judged them all beneath him.

My chest seized, my pulse slamming against my ribs. Heat from arousal clashed with the cold wave of humiliation flooding my veins.

In a frenzy, I yanked the blanket higher, covering myself completely until only my flushed face peeked out.

“What the fuck!!!” I screamed, my voice cracking in raw panic.

The man didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. His smirk only curved deeper, his gaze steady, sharp, and unsettlingly calm as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Interesting way to spend your evening,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky, almost amused.

And my world collapsed into mortification.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​