The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage - Chapter 28: Chapter 28
You are reading The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage, Chapter 28: Chapter 28. Read more chapters of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the man's perfect features. Reaching out, I prodded his cheek with my finger. "Who says I can't get a man? This one's a damn masterpiece."
His expression flickered between amusement and irritation. So she'd come here just to find a hookup?
With a lazy gesture, he signaled the bartender and settled the tab with a gleaming gold card. Then, one arm snaking around my waist, the other clutching his keys, he steered me toward the exit.
The bartender hesitated. "Mr. Valentin, she—" He nodded at me, currently plastered against the man's chest.
Probably worried I'd wake up with regrets and was trying to play hero.
The man arched a brow. "Something wrong?"
The sudden shift in his demeanor thickened the air, heavy with unspoken authority. The bartender ducked his head and stepped back. "N-no, sir."
"Not your business." The man eased the tension with a smirk. "Relax. I'll give her exactly what she asked for."
Glancing down at me—now too wasted to walk straight—he frowned, tucked the keys into his suit pocket, and scooped me up effortlessly, carrying me out like some drunken damsel.
Only later would I learn his name was Julian Valentin.
I was light in his arms, pliant and curled against him like a sleepy cat. Something in Julian's long-cold chest twitched—an unfamiliar sensation.
He opened the car door, depositing me gently in the backseat before sliding behind the wheel and firing up the engine.
Ten minutes later, a sleek, gunmetal-gray Lamborghini purred to a stop outside The St. Regis.
Julian hauled my limp form from the car and collected the keycard from the front desk.
"Mr. Valentin, the usual presidential suite?" The receptionist's voice was syrup-sweet, her gaze practically stripping him bare.
He ignored the blatant invitation, giving a curt nod before carrying me to the elevators.
The suite was exactly as he remembered—clean, modern lines, understated luxury, and that ridiculously plush king-sized bed.
He rarely stayed here, but the hotel kept it ready for him, freshly prepped for nights when he didn't feel like going home.
He'd considered taking me to his penthouse—I smelled intoxicating—but Julian didn't make a habit of bringing strangers there. This would do.
Looking down at my sleeping face, one glance was all it took to ignite a slow burn low in his gut, hot and insistent.
Julian almost laughed at himself. But desire was desire, and he wasn't one to deny himself. After all, I'd come looking for a man. This was just mutual satisfaction.
He carried me to the bathroom, stripped me bare, and washed me with quick efficiency before bundling me into a towel and dumping me onto the bed.
The water had roused me slightly, but when I peeled my eyes open, everything still felt like a dream.
My lashes fluttered, gaze hazy with lingering intoxication. I reached up, fingers brushing Julian's jaw. "Who are you? So... pretty."
Did this woman have any idea how she looked right now—naked, staring up at him like that? With a low growl, Julian seized my wrist, pinning it above my head as his mouth crashed onto my throat.
His teeth and tongue marked my skin, leaving bruises in their wake. The alcohol dulled the sting, amplifying only the pleasure. A whimper escaped me as my back arched instinctively.
"Sensitive," he murmured, amused by how easily I reacted.
His mouth trailed lower, skimming my stomach. His skill was undeniable, and within moments, I was completely at his mercy.
His expression flickered between amusement and irritation. So she'd come here just to find a hookup?
With a lazy gesture, he signaled the bartender and settled the tab with a gleaming gold card. Then, one arm snaking around my waist, the other clutching his keys, he steered me toward the exit.
The bartender hesitated. "Mr. Valentin, she—" He nodded at me, currently plastered against the man's chest.
Probably worried I'd wake up with regrets and was trying to play hero.
The man arched a brow. "Something wrong?"
The sudden shift in his demeanor thickened the air, heavy with unspoken authority. The bartender ducked his head and stepped back. "N-no, sir."
"Not your business." The man eased the tension with a smirk. "Relax. I'll give her exactly what she asked for."
Glancing down at me—now too wasted to walk straight—he frowned, tucked the keys into his suit pocket, and scooped me up effortlessly, carrying me out like some drunken damsel.
Only later would I learn his name was Julian Valentin.
I was light in his arms, pliant and curled against him like a sleepy cat. Something in Julian's long-cold chest twitched—an unfamiliar sensation.
He opened the car door, depositing me gently in the backseat before sliding behind the wheel and firing up the engine.
Ten minutes later, a sleek, gunmetal-gray Lamborghini purred to a stop outside The St. Regis.
Julian hauled my limp form from the car and collected the keycard from the front desk.
"Mr. Valentin, the usual presidential suite?" The receptionist's voice was syrup-sweet, her gaze practically stripping him bare.
He ignored the blatant invitation, giving a curt nod before carrying me to the elevators.
The suite was exactly as he remembered—clean, modern lines, understated luxury, and that ridiculously plush king-sized bed.
He rarely stayed here, but the hotel kept it ready for him, freshly prepped for nights when he didn't feel like going home.
He'd considered taking me to his penthouse—I smelled intoxicating—but Julian didn't make a habit of bringing strangers there. This would do.
Looking down at my sleeping face, one glance was all it took to ignite a slow burn low in his gut, hot and insistent.
Julian almost laughed at himself. But desire was desire, and he wasn't one to deny himself. After all, I'd come looking for a man. This was just mutual satisfaction.
He carried me to the bathroom, stripped me bare, and washed me with quick efficiency before bundling me into a towel and dumping me onto the bed.
The water had roused me slightly, but when I peeled my eyes open, everything still felt like a dream.
My lashes fluttered, gaze hazy with lingering intoxication. I reached up, fingers brushing Julian's jaw. "Who are you? So... pretty."
Did this woman have any idea how she looked right now—naked, staring up at him like that? With a low growl, Julian seized my wrist, pinning it above my head as his mouth crashed onto my throat.
His teeth and tongue marked my skin, leaving bruises in their wake. The alcohol dulled the sting, amplifying only the pleasure. A whimper escaped me as my back arched instinctively.
"Sensitive," he murmured, amused by how easily I reacted.
His mouth trailed lower, skimming my stomach. His skill was undeniable, and within moments, I was completely at his mercy.
End of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage Chapter 28. Continue reading Chapter 29 or return to The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage book page.