Layla's POV

I scoffed. “Do I look like I need a chaperone?”

Who the hell was he to question my decision?

Before he could say another word, I turned to the man beside me, grabbed his half-finished whiskey without asking, and knocked it back. It burned more than the sugary crap I’d been drinking, still I welcomed the fire. Anything to smother the ache in my chest.

The man beside me just stared. But he didn’t say a word.

I tried to take another gulp, though the glass was already empty. I tilted it again, squinting like the drink might magically refill itself.

“What the hell is wrong with this cup?” I slurred. “Why’s the drink not coming out?”

The man gently took the glass from my hand. His touch sent an electric jolt up my spine.

“Hold on,” he said, his voice smooth and low. Then he turned to the bartender. “One shot of whiskey. For her.”

The bartender looked like he wanted to protest, however one scowl from the man shut him up. He poured the drink.

The bartender gave me a look, one eyebrow arched like he wasn’t sure what to do with me. I knew he’d seen worse in this place.

I looked like I didn’t belong there but who cares?

The drink was placed in front of me. I downed it without hesitation, the fire searing through me.

“Thanks,” I muttered, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. My lipstick smeared across the back of my hand even so I didn’t give a shit.

The loud music throbbed through my chest as I sat at the counter and kept an open tab for my drink, my eyes squinting against the neon lights and swirling haze.

I didn’t even remember the name of the place—just that it was the closest pub still open and loud enough to drown my thoughts.

I'd stopped at my apartment first, ripping off my work clothes and pulling on the skimpiest dress I owned. It clung to every inch of me, barely covering anything. It was the kind of dress that made men turn their heads to look at you except I didn’t care. I was done with the whole ‘modest in relationship’ thing.

The man beside me studied my face, his eyes fleeting to my tits occasionally. “Rough night?”

I gave a short, humorless laugh. “You could say that.”

I turned fully toward him. My eyes were glassy. “You know what’s funny?” I slurred. “I lost everything today. My job, my relationship, my sense of fucking dignity. And now… I’m here. In a goddamn public pub. Trying to forget.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Is it working?”

“Not yet,” I muttered bitterly.

He didn’t push further. Instead, he kept refilling my glass. “Then keep drinking,” he said calmly. “However pace yourself.”

I stared at him. He looked like someone I'd seen before. He had a face I would’ve remembered in another life. Late thirties? Maybe early forties. He was calm, composed, and too damn attractive for this place. His blue eyes lingered on my face a little too long.

His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of a tattoo on his chiseled abs. My eyes wandered on his body. He had the kind of confidence you couldn’t fake.

God, I will kill to have a man with this body.

His hand brushed my arm as he leaned in a little closer. His voice was low and unreadable. “You want to get out of here?”

I blinked at him, my vision swimming slightly from the whiskey.

My gaze drifted past him to the stage where two women danced around a pole, teasing some rich guy in a suit who looked half-drunk and fully obsessed.

The room spun a little. So did my heart.

“Yes,” I said suddenly, pushing off the stool, swaying as I stood.

“You sure you’re steady enough to walk?” he asked, grabbing my arm gently.

“Nope,” I grinned, my voice slurring. “Yet I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

“I could carry you.”

“And ruin the full drunk-girl experience?” I laughed, twirling a finger. “I want to feel the room spin.”

He chuckled softly. I didn’t care where we were going. I just wanted to feel something else different from the pain I've felt today.

I walked ahead of him staggering a little as I jumbled my way among the crowd. I turned around suddenly, almost hitting my head on his chest.

“Shit! I forgot my purse,” I muttered, turning back.

He was already two steps ahead of me, heading back to the bar. While I waited, some creep leaned in close. “You lost, baby?”

I took a quick glance at his overall look. He looked rough and drunk.

“Back off.” I kicked off a heel and pointed it at him like a knife.

He grumbled something and disappeared.

How could he mistake me for a cheap fuck? I wasn't dressed that badly. I pushed myself to a random seat, feeling the room swaying a little.

I don't know what was keeping that ‘hot’ man from retrieving my purse. Tying my heels strap, I heard the man's voice.

“Here. I’ve been looking for you.” He said, stretching my purse to me. I collected it from him and stood up from the chair.

As we walked, he kept glancing at me. There was something familiar in his eyes, like he was trying to place me. Maybe I reminded him of someone. Or maybe I just looked like a mess.

I could tell he liked what he saw, though. His gaze lingered on my face then dropped to my lips and exposed tits.

My hair was messy. My makeup was probably a disaster. Yet he was staring at me like I was the only thing worth looking at.

The downtown lights blurred in the distance as the cool night air bit at my skin immediately I stepped outside the pub. My foot caught the edge of a loose stone making me stumble slightly.

He caught me around the waist before I could fall, his hand firm and warm through the fabric of my thin dress.

The heat of his touch sent something sharp up my spine. The scent of sandalwood and citrus clung to his skin. It made my head swim in a different way.

My mind should’ve been screaming what are you doing?, but it wasn’t. Instead, Ryan and Brielle's fucking scene flashed in my mind.

Fucking hell! I should feel something other than this.

I looked up at him.

“You’re very hand…some, you know,” I said with a sloppy grin. I reached up, locked my arms around his neck, and yanked him down. My lips crushed against his like I needed him to erase Ryan’s name from my memory.

Chapter 5

Asher's POV

The effect of her kiss was immediate. My cock throbbed, hard and aching, as she pressed into me. My rough stubble grazed her chin as I kissed her back with urgency. My hand found her soft ass, grabbing it firmly, dragging her tighter against my body.

Christ, I'd been watching this ass sway effortlessly as she walked ahead of me.

She tasted like alcohol and something warm—something sweet I couldn’t place. And fuck, she was an incredible kisser. The kind who knew how to leave you needing more with every flick of their tongue.

Suddenly, she pulled away from me, breathless and shaky. Her chest rose and fell in short, broken gasps. Around us, the air outside the building stank of alcohol, sweat, and the faint musk of bodies grinding in dark corners. Cars rocked in the shadows. Moans drifted from cracked windows.

“Where’s your car?” she asked, her voice raspy and thick with need.

I pointed toward a sleek black sedan parked nearby.

Without another word, she walked ahead of me, wobbling as she moved towards the car. I caught up in two strides, opened the door, and she slid in like she belonged there. I followed, shutting the door behind me, murmuring a quiet instruction to Jacob before the engine hummed to life.

The moment the door sealed, the tinted divider was rolled up.

The air between us changed. She was trembling beside me. I saw the way her fingers brushed her thighs, like she didn’t know what to do with them. Her knees pressed together, and I could feel the tension radiating off her skin. Her body was wound up and burning. I could feel it.

Then she tugged at my shirt.

“Can you kiss me again?” she whispered. “No….please, sir, I want you to kiss me again, please.”

What the hell? Was she really a version of Melina?

The way she said “sir” sounded made my stomach twist. I stared at her, my throat tightening. I hadn’t heard that word in this needy form in two years.

She tugged at me again, her hot breath brushed against my skin, sending an unexpected jolt down my spine. Her eyes were pleading furiously.

“Is something wrong with me?" she asked, lips parted, eyes wide and unsure. "Do I taste wrong? Smell wrong?"

“No, Layla,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. My voice came out low and rough. “That's not it.”

I was trying my best to restrain myself but this girl was unraveling me.

Her hazel eyes were glassy and half lidded as she spoke.

“Then why does it feel like no one wants me for anything real? I am just twenty two….” Her voice cracked. “And my life hasn't been happy….. I've never enjoyed the comfort of any man. That bastard was my first boyfriend but he used me.”

She guided my fingers to her mouth and bit down softly, her eyes never leaving mine. Then, slowly, her lips parted, and she sucked my thumb into her mouth, dragging her tongue across it with aching slowness.

Fuck! I stylishly used my hand to cover my bulging crotch. My cock pressed painfully against my slacks. Precum soaked the fabric at the tip.

“Even if it's just for a night,” she whispered, still sucking on my thumb. “I want you to help me forget my pains and everything that ever happened today.”

My gaze darkened. I cursed myself silently. My control was slipping faster than I imagined it could. My jaw clenched as my knuckles dug into the leather seat.

I didn’t even know what I was doing anymore. We were still in the car, for fuck’s sake. But every second she looked at me like that, like I was the only man who could put her back together, something in me snapped.

And she wasn’t the only one losing her mind. Her legs were tense, thighs clenched, and I knew without even touching her that her pussy was soaked. She looked at me like I was her first and last salvation. Like she’d burn without this.

I slid my fingers beneath her jaw, holding her there.

“You’re making this very hard for me,” I muttered.

The moment her lips grazed my throat again, all of that burned away. Logic, grief, guilt—gone. What was left? Hunger. For her. For this.

And fuck it, I wanted to feel something alive for once.

My body moved before I could stop it.

I crushed my mouth to hers in a kiss that stole her breath, that tore through every layer of resistance I had left. My tongue slid along her lips, demanding entry. She complied and opened her mouth slightly and I plunged in, tasting her, claiming her.

There was no hesitation. My lips devoured hers like she was the one I had been waiting for.

I groaned into her mouth. Her moans melted against my tongue as I hauled her onto my lap. Her dress slid up, bunching around her hips. Her legs straddled me, her soaked underwear grinding against my cock through the fabric.

She gasped, her fingers threading through my hair.

The car had stopped which meant that we were in my estate.

I felt her tense when I pulled out her breast halfway from her dress. Her thighs tried to press together, but couldn’t with the way she straddled me. My groan was muffled by her mouth as my fingers pinched her nipple.

Hmm…so fucking sensitive. I liked it. I retract the statement I made once before that there was no way on earth a lady aside Melina could make my desires run wild because who on earth is this?

What this lady was making me feel? Out of the world. I'd pay whatever amount she requested just to experience this whenever I needed it. Because sincerely? This was exactly what I needed, my true coping mechanism.

She made me feel things I thought I'd locked up.

She gasped as soon as my lips left hers. I cupped her breasts, squeezing them together, and brought both pink nipples into my mouth, sucking hungrily.

I moved her hips slowly over my lap, the thick ridge of my cock rubbing against her folds through the thin fabric of her underwear. Her moans spilled against my neck.

It was reckless. Too fast, even. But nothing else had ever made me feel like this for a long while. I was almost tempted to ask where the hell she had been when I was miserable.

I felt her hands slide beneath my shirt, touching my taut muscles and the heat of skin. She gasped as my hands brushed her underwear.

“We’re going inside,” I growled as I tore my lips from her breast and lifted her effortlessly in my arms. “But if you stay, you need to know. I don’t do relationships.”

She stared at me, confused for a full second, before nodding in agreement.

Chapter 6

Layla's POV

I didn't know how long I stared at him for. All I knew was his words sounded ridiculous like what the hell was he talking about? The thought never even crossed my mind, especially not after what Ryan had done. It wasn’t even like I could recognize love if it slapped me in the face.

I felt my body hijacked by need so I nodded quickly to whatever he meant.

He steadied his arm firm around me, his grip was possessive yet careful. I rested my head against his shoulder, my heart thudding in my chest. I felt every flex of his muscles as he carried me through the private elevator and up into his penthouse.

Everything felt like a dream. Yes. It had to be a dream.

There was no way I’d be in this position with a random man I met at a bar if this was real. A public pub, to be precise. I wasn't the type to throw myself at men or grovel at their feet for sex. Hell, I usually reject them without thinking twice.

Jordan had offered me a promotion in exchange for sex, and I had said no. Because the man disgusted me even if I wasn't in a relationship at the time.

Yes, I was in a futile relationship at the time so it doesn't count.

I didn't want to wake up from this dream. I could barely process anything except the heat radiating from his body as he held me in his arms. Like I wasn’t a mess of sweat, alcohol, and desperate need clinging to his shirt.

I barely registered the sound of the door clicking shut behind us. He sat me down carefully on his velvet couch like I was made of glass.

God, why didn't you send this man to me before I met Ryan?

My dress had ridden up. My cheeks were flushed. My eyes, glassy from the alcohol, scanned the place with a kind of dreamy disconnection.

His home was dark and minimalist like him. Everything inside screamed expensive. There were no signs that anyone else ever lived here. No woman.

“I can walk,” I muttered, even though it sounded pathetic. My words were slurry, breathless.

He stood in front of me, jaw locked, his eyes dark. He stared at me silently like he was debating whether to fuck me or throw me out.

But I knew he wouldn't attempt the second option. He had brought me home for a reason.

He could’ve dropped me off like a gentleman. He could’ve ignored the kiss we shared outside the pub and never opened that car door.

But now I was inside his world, and it was too late for him to pretend otherwise.

He looked at me like I was the only thing worth staring at. My hair was messy, lips red and swollen from our kiss in the car, and the dress I wore was hanging on by a thread.

I faced him. “Why are you standing there like I’m about to explode?”

“Because you are,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

I giggled, light-headed, heat curling inside me again. “I just want to be touched. Is that too much to ask?”

He swallowed thickly. He didn’t answer at first. He just stared at me like he was trying to hold back something dangerous.

“You need water,” he said finally, his voice low and firm.

“I need you,” I pouted.

Still, he walked over to the bar, grabbed a cold bottle of water, twisted it open, and brought it to my lips. I obeyed like a bratty child. I drank half of it. He wiped the corner of my mouth with his pad of his thumb.

“You’re no fun,” I pouted again. “Thought you’d kiss me again. You kissed me like you meant it.”

His jaw twitched. I saw his hard cock jump beneath those tailored pants, begging to be unleashed. And it turned me on even more.

“Layla, you’re drunk,” he muttered, his voice raspy. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Layla? How did he know my name? Did I tell him unconsciously?

I really don't care though.

I smiled lazily. “Drunk, not dead. I know exactly what I’m saying.”

I stood, a little unsteady, and walked toward him, reaching for his chest. He caught my wrists before I could touch him.

That firm grip? It made my thighs clench instantly. Fuck.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, voice low and dangerously calm.

I nodded slowly.

“Use your words,” he growled.

“Yes, Daddy. Touch me. I’ll be good. I just want to be yours.”

His breath hitched. “Daddy?”

Did I just say that?

I hadn’t even thought about it. The word just… slipped out. It felt right. And from the look in his eyes, it did something to him too.

“Please…” I whispered again, softer this time. “Just make me feel something else. Just for a night.”

My voice cracked. My whole body felt like it was wired. My submission came out naturally, like it had always been hiding beneath the surface. With him, it didn’t feel wrong.

His control snapped. He pulled me into his arms and spun me around, bending me over the couch in one swift movement. My dress hiked up, exposing my ass. His palm smacked down on it, hard.

I yelped, breath catching in my throat. “Shit—”

“That’s for teasing me in the car,” he growled behind me.

Another sharp smack landed.

“And that’s for calling me that without permission.”

“You like being punished, princess?” His hand slid to my throat, holding just enough pressure to make me gasp. “Or are you just desperate for attention?”

I whimpered, barely able to speak. “Yes, Daddy. I like being punished.”

“Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

A groan ripped from his chest. “That’s my good girl.”

My panties were soaked. His fingers brushed the lace and I almost came on the spot.

I was shaking. Needy. His dominance was like a drug to me.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he rasped, “but you follow my rules.”

I nodded quickly, frantic. “Yes. Yes, Daddy. Anything.”

He pulled me up and spun me to face him. His eyes studied mine.

I felt like I was unraveling. My head was spinning from alcohol, need, and the weight of all that happened today. But God, I needed this.

“Strip,” he ordered.

My fingers were clumsy on the straps of my dress. I laughed breathlessly, trying to peel it off. He helped me, groaning when my breasts bounced free.

His mouth was on me before I could think.

He sucked hard on one nipple, then the other. His tongue was relentless, his teeth scraped gently and made me cry out. My body arched into him. My fingers were tangled in his hair. I couldn’t get close enough.

He had me in his lap the next second. I could feel his cock, hard and demanding beneath me. I rolled my hips against him, sloppy and needy.

“This isn’t me,” I mumbled. “I don’t do this. I don’t…”

He grabbed my face, his touch firm but tender. “It is you. Right now, it’s exactly you.”

His fingers slid between my thighs and found my soaked panties. I was dripping for him. No one had ever made me feel like this before.

When his fingers sank into me, I clenched hard, gasping. “Fuck—”

“You got wet just from my voice, huh?” he whispered in my ear. “You want to be used like a toy, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy…”

“Good girl,” he praised darkly. “You’re being so good now.”

His fingers moved expertly inside me. It was slow, curling, steady that I couldn’t even think.

My moans filled the room, raw and shameless. Just his fingers were working wonders on me. But it felt better than anything Ryan ever gave me.