The Unexpected Entanglement

Leila's POV

It was late enough that the dim lighting in the club blurred the contents of my glass, leaving me to guess how much of the amber liquid was left. The burn of the alcohol had dulled into a steady warmth, the kind that felt too good to resist. I tilted the glass and let the last sip linger on my tongue, the heat spreading through my chest.

Chelsea's 24th birthday party was in full swing, an event as vibrant and unapologetically loud as she was. True to her extroverted nature, she had chosen to celebrate at a downtown club, complete with flashing lights and a DJ who seemed intent on having the whole club dancing.

Chelsea floated through the room, her blinged-out birthday sash glinting with every turn. She greeted her invited guests with her trademark enthusiasm—long hugs, cheek kisses, and a smile so bright it rivaled the strobe lights overhead.

I sat in the lounge area she had booked, the leather seats vibrating with every beat of the bass. My white button-down and pencil skirt felt completely out of place amidst the glitter and skin-tight dresses, but a late work meeting had left no time for wardrobe changes. I tugged at my skirt and fiddled with my sleeve, suddenly self-conscious.

Reaching for the bottle on the table, I prepared to pour another glass when a perfectly manicured hand stopped me.

"Not on my watch," Chelsea said, sliding onto the seat beside me. Her black mini-dress shimmered under the club's strobe lights, and her princess tiara sat slightly askew, a playful reminder that tonight was her night.

"Chelsea, please," I protested, pouring a small splash despite her intervention. "This is practically my IV right now."

She snatched the bottle away, placing it just out of my reach. "Do I need to remind you about junior year?" she said, her blue eyes narrowing with mock severity.

I groaned, sinking into the seat. "That was different. I was... inexperienced."

"Incapable, you mean." She smirked and pulled me to my feet before I could argue.

She unclipped my hair with practiced ease, letting it tumble down my back. Her hands fluffed the waves as she unbuttoned the top of my blouse and gave my skirt a slight scrunch.

"There," she said, appraising me with a grin. She playfully swatted my ass. "You're officially ready for the dance floor. Now, let's go find you some fun."

"Fun?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"I want you to get laid tonight."

"Out of all the 365 days on the calendar, on your birthday?"

"Exactly!" she said, as though it were the most logical answer in the world.

Before I could protest, Chelsea dragged me into the throng of dancing bodies. The music pounded in my ears, a relentless rhythm that seemed to take over my entire body. Chelsea spun me around, her laughter infectious as we moved in sync. It had been too long since I'd danced like this, carefree and unapologetic. The strobe lights flickered across our faces, illuminating fragments of joy and reckless abandon.

I slipped away toward the bar as Chelsea found a new, more masculine dance partner.

The crowd thinned as I approached, but the bartender seemed oblivious to my attempts to catch his attention.

"Excuse me," I called, leaning over the counter on the tips of my heels.

A warm hand pressed lightly against the small of my back. "What are you having?" a deep voice asked.

I turned, met by sharp cheekbones and eyes that gleamed even in the low light. He looked out of place here, like he had wandered in after a corporate meeting. His tailored shirt hugged his frame perfectly, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal strong forearms. A sleek watch glinted on his wrist.

"Um... a Cosmo," I blurted, instantly regretting it. A Cosmo? Really? What, am I in some 90s sitcom?

He didn't miss a beat, signaling to the bartender. "A Cosmo and a gin and tonic," he said, pulling out a black Amex card.

"I can pay for my own drink," I said, patting my pockets and realizing my wallet was still in the lounge.

"Don't worry about it," he said smoothly, sitting beside me while handing off his card. "But in exchange, tell me your name."

"Hailey," I lied without hesitation.

His lips curved into a faint smile. "Hailey," he repeated like he didn't entirely believe me.

Our drinks arrived, and I thanked him with a nod, unsure what to make of this stranger.

"And yours?" I ask, bringing the refreshing, sweet-tarted drink to my lips.

"Dwight," he oozes with confidence as he eyes me over his drink.

There was something magnetic about him—his confidence, his ease.

Before I knew it, we were on the dance floor, his hands steady but never intrusive as we moved together to the sensual music, the lights dancing on our figures. One song blurred into another, and somewhere between the bass drops and the all-knowing stolen glances, we found ourselves in a cab, his hand resting possessively on my thigh.

His penthouse was everything I expected: sleek, modern, and expensive. When the door closed behind us, his lips found mine again, hungry and insistent. Clothes disappeared in a trail to the bedroom from the elevator door. His touch was commanding yet careful, each move deliberate.

He gently grabbed a fistful of my hair, making my head lean back, his lips leaving hot trails down my jaw and neck. I curse under my breath as I run my hands up his back.

"Lay back," he commands softly, leading me to his bed. I do as he says, looking up at him as he unclasps my bra. He is relentless; I writhe and moan underneath him as he pleasures both of my breasts. He palms one while sucking the other, kissing in between the valley.

I feel his hard member against my thigh, and I groan while arching my back. He lets go of my breast with the pop of his mouth.

"You're driving me fucking crazy," he whispers huskily in my ear. I run a hand along his member, and he lets his head down against the nape of my neck before kissing it.

"Fuck," he groans before getting up from on top of me. I watch, propped on my elbows, as he removes his pants and releases his hard-on from his briefs. I try to minimize the shock of his length by biting my lip. He pulls my hair back again, warranting a moan and whimper from my now-swollen lips.

"Damn," he says, wiping my lips with his thumb. "You're so hot right now," he practically whispers as he moves a hand up and down his member. I look up at him as I adjust to resting on my elbows. He pulls out a condom and hastily puts it on.

"Lay back down," he commands softly. He gets on top of me again, "Can I?" he asks as he teases my wet entrance. "You're so wet," he gently groans in my ear with a smirk.

"Yes," I plead with a whimper; he wraps a hand around the back of my neck, forcing me to look up at him. "Please," I whimper again, licking my lips. I feel his muscles tighten against my touch as I run my hand up his defined torso and chest.

"With pleasure," he whispers in my ear before kissing my ear and entering me.

His pace quickened as we both found a rhythm, causing the bed frame to hit the wall consistently. So glad we didn't bring this back to my place.

"You feel so good," he says huskily and breathily into my ear as I continue to moan breathlessly; he hits the spot every single damn time. His hand traced my waist before lifting my thigh. "F-fuck," I practically scream in between a mixture of gasps and moans, my face scrunching up in pleasure.

I rub both my legs around his waist; his pace is sickening. He slows down and quickens, making me want to scream. I run my hands against his broad, defined back, leaving trace marks of our night together.

The night was a haze of gasps and moans, a release I hadn't realized I needed. When we collapsed onto the sheets, I felt a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. That was probably the best fuck I have ever had; I bite my lip, way better than my ex.

"Well, that was fun," I say quickly before sitting up on the bed and running a hand through my hair. I begin to pick up my clothes from the floor.

"What are you doing," he asked, seemingly confused.

"Um, leaving?" I asked, even more confused. He sits up, putting on a pair of boxers.

"Come on, just stay the night. It's late," he says as he stands up to wear a shirt. Oh no, don't hide the abs. I roll my eyes mentally, get over myself, and leave, which is what I should be doing. I start to put on my clothes.

"You never heard of aftercare?" he says, striding towards me; he tries to look me in the eyes, but I avert his gaze.

"Do you need water? A snack?" he says, running a hand through his hair. "I mean," he hides a smirk, "that was pretty rough."

"It's late," I say, finally looking at him.

"Even more reason for you to just stay the night; you can leave in the morning," he says, leading me to the other side of the bed, nodding for me to proceed. I do, but hesitantly. Damn, he's bossy. I get comfortable in the bed; I am really tired, and my muscles relax, and my eyes close immediately.

I wake up to the floor-to-ceiling windows casting sunrays across my pillow and directly onto my eyelids. I try to block the light with my strong arm wrapped loosely around my waist.

So, it was definitely not a dream. I turn to look at his face, he looks so peaceful in sleep, a stark contrast to the intensity of the night before.

I slowly get up to get dressed; I try my best not to stir him. I move his arm from the waist, and he stirs a bit, but not too much. He sighs and turns his back towards me. I struggle to put on my heels and almost fall; this time, he seems to be waking up.

I quickly slipped out before he could stop me.

"I'm going to be so late," I whisper to myself as I lean on the wall near the elevator to put on my second heel. I fix my stud earrings, brush off my skirt, and grab my purse.

I press the elevator button; I can't believe I did that with an absolute stranger last night. I know his name, but that's the point. I mean, it could have been worse. At least he didn't make things more awkward than they could possibly be, right?

I call a taxi with a whistle. "72nd Avenue," I tell the driver as I go through my phone messages.

It's mainly from Chelsea. I texted her to let her know that I would tell her what happened later. She sends a winking face before saying she is glad I am alive.

The cab ride to work felt surreal, the city blurring past as I replayed the night in my head.

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