That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate.
The Jilted Heiress' Return To The High Life
Rejected No More: I Am Way Out Of Your League, Darling!
My Coldhearted Ex Demands A Remarriage
His Unwanted Wife, The World's Coveted Genius
Pampered By The Ruthless Underground Boss
The Unwanted Wife's Unexpected Comeback
The Warlord's Lovely Prize
Secrets Of The Neglected Wife: When Her True Colors Shine
Celestial Queen: Revenge Is Sweet When You're A Zillionaire Heiress
THIRD PERSON PO
The club was loud-just how she wanted it. Music thumped against her skin, drowning out the nagging voice in her head telling her to go home, to not do this. But she wasn't listening tonight.
Victoria downed another shot, the burn in her throat a welcome distraction from the real ache inside her. Screw him. Screw the ex who left her raw and humiliated. Screw love. She wasn't looking for feelings tonight. Just hands. Lips.
A body to press against hers so she wouldn't have to think.She swayed onto the dance floor, the alcohol humming in her veins as she moved to the music.
Eyes followed her-men drawn to the way her dress clung to her curves, to the unspoken promise in her gaze. She didn't care who she chose. It didn't matter.Then, she felt him. A stranger. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against his body. He was tall, rough around the edges, and when he leaned in, his breath was warm against her ear.
"You looking for trouble, sweetheart?"She turned in his arms, tilting her head up to meet his smirk. "Something like that."His fingers skimmed her thigh, sending a shiver through her. Good. She needed this. Needed to feel something, even if it was cheap and fleeting."Let's get out of here," he murmured, voice thick with intent.Victoria grabbed his hand without hesitation.Tonight wasn't about heartbreak.
Tonight was about forgetting.
The hotel room door slammed shut behind them. Victoria barely had time to register the dim lighting, the unmade bed, before his hands were on her-rough, eager, exactly what she wanted.
Her back hit the wall, and his lips crashed against hers, tasting like whiskey and desire. She welcomed it, tilting her head back as his mouth trailed down her neck. His hands roamed, fingers digging into her hips as he pressed her firmly against him.
"Fuck," she whispered, not because she felt it-because she wanted to feel it.
Her dress slid up her thighs, his fingers making quick work of the barrier between them. She let him take control, let him maneuver her onto the bed, let herself pretend this was what she needed. Skin against skin, breathless moans, the sharp sting of pleasure-everything blurred together, a haze of sensation and heat.
But as he moved above her, as his grip tightened, as he whispered her name like it meant something, a cold emptiness spread through her.
This wasn't what she wanted.
Not really.
She squeezed her eyes shut, nails dragging across his back, forcing herself to stay in the moment. To chase the pleasure, to let it consume her. To forget.
But even as her body responded, her mind refused to.
Because no matter how much she tried to lose herself in this stranger's touch, she still felt alone.
The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, skin against skin, the creaking of the bed beneath them. Victoria moved with him, let him take what he wanted, let herself pretend she wanted it just as much. But as the minutes dragged on, that dull, hollow feeling in her chest only grew.
His hands gripped her thighs, his breath hot against her ear as he murmured something-her name, a curse, she didn't know, didn't care. She bit her lip, digging her nails into his back, trying to pull herself into the moment, trying to let the friction erase everything clawing at her mind.
But it wasn't working.
She felt nothing.
Her body moved, but her heart wasn't in it. She wasn't here-she was back in her ex's apartment, hearing him tell her it was over, watching him walk away like she hadn't meant a damn thing. She was standing outside in the cold, her pride shattered, her love wasted.
And this? This wasn't fixing it.
Her stomach twisted, nausea creeping in as the weight of him became suffocating. The pleasure she had chased so desperately was slipping through her fingers, leaving her raw, exposed.
"Fuck, you feel good," he groaned, his pace quickening.
Victoria turned her head, staring at the ceiling, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood.
She just needed this to be over.
Minutes later, he collapsed beside her, his breathing uneven, a lazy grin on his face. He reached for her, fingers tracing her arm. "That was-"
She slipped out of bed before he could finish.
His brows furrowed as she grabbed her dress off the floor. "Leaving already?"