The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage - Chapter 29: Chapter 29
You are reading The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage, Chapter 29: Chapter 29. Read more chapters of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage.
I thought it was just some wild, ridiculous dream—but damn, it felt good to lose myself in it. No overthinking, no messy thoughts cluttering my mind.
The last shreds of resistance dissolved without a fight.
Soon, the only sounds filling the spacious room were the man's ragged breaths and the woman's soft, breathless moans…
7:00 AM.
Sunlight seeped through the curtains, painting lazy patterns across the rumpled sheets.
I groaned, blinking against the intrusive brightness. My head pounded like I'd gone ten rounds with a tequila bottle. Where the hell was I? This wasn't my room. The decor screamed luxury—way out of my league.
Then my gaze landed on him.
I froze. Blinked. Twice.
A strangled gasp escaped before I could slap a hand over my mouth.
Who the hell was this guy? And why was he in my bed?
Squeezing my eyes shut, I scrambled for last night's memories. The Scotch Bar. Too many drinks. A stupid bet with myself to prove I could move on from my ex. And then… him. That unfairly gorgeous stranger with the kind of smile that should come with a warning label.
The sheets shifted, and—oh God—I was naked.
This wasn't a dream.
I'd actually slept with him.
Shit.
I'd only wanted to flirt, maybe make my ex jealous from afar. Not lose my virginity in some reckless one-night stand.
Damn it. That hymen I'd just gotten restored? Poof. Gone.
Not that I cared that much, but still—my first time deserved better than a hazy, drunken memory.
Except… he had been… exceptional.
My throat went dry as I stared at him. Even asleep, he looked like he'd stepped out of some high-end cologne ad. And the memories—fleeting as they were—flooded back. The way his hands had been both demanding and gentle, like he knew exactly what he was doing.
If anything, I was the one who'd hit the jackpot, right?
Ugh, what am I even thinking? I shook my head, scrambling out of bed before my traitorous imagination could replay any more highlights. A shower. I needed a shower.
No way was I sticking around for the awkward morning-after chat.
Dressed, I buttoned my blouse up to my chin, hiding the evidence of last night's… enthusiasm.
So… technically, had I just paid for him?
The thought almost made me snort. Okay, fine—maybe not paid, but I had been the one to approach him.
(What I conveniently forgot was that my so-called "taking charge" had mostly involved collapsing under him in a breathless, moaning mess.)
Whatever. Given how… thorough he'd been, I owed him something, right?
After a beat of hesitation, I dug into my wallet and slapped my last two hundred bucks on the nightstand.
Not exactly a king's ransom, but it's not like I could swing by an ATM and come back. If he woke up now, I'd die of embarrassment.
Guilt prickled as I whispered, "Sorry, hot stuff. It's all I've got. If fate's cruel enough to throw us together again, I'll make it up to you… Actually, scratch that—let's not meet again. You don't exactly look like you need the cash anyway."
Then I bolted like Cinderella after curfew.
Silence settled over the room in my wake.
Two hours later, Julian Valentin finally stirred.
It had been years since he'd slept this deeply. Strange—this woman hadn't just satisfied him. She'd given him the first real rest he'd had in ages.
The last shreds of resistance dissolved without a fight.
Soon, the only sounds filling the spacious room were the man's ragged breaths and the woman's soft, breathless moans…
7:00 AM.
Sunlight seeped through the curtains, painting lazy patterns across the rumpled sheets.
I groaned, blinking against the intrusive brightness. My head pounded like I'd gone ten rounds with a tequila bottle. Where the hell was I? This wasn't my room. The decor screamed luxury—way out of my league.
Then my gaze landed on him.
I froze. Blinked. Twice.
A strangled gasp escaped before I could slap a hand over my mouth.
Who the hell was this guy? And why was he in my bed?
Squeezing my eyes shut, I scrambled for last night's memories. The Scotch Bar. Too many drinks. A stupid bet with myself to prove I could move on from my ex. And then… him. That unfairly gorgeous stranger with the kind of smile that should come with a warning label.
The sheets shifted, and—oh God—I was naked.
This wasn't a dream.
I'd actually slept with him.
Shit.
I'd only wanted to flirt, maybe make my ex jealous from afar. Not lose my virginity in some reckless one-night stand.
Damn it. That hymen I'd just gotten restored? Poof. Gone.
Not that I cared that much, but still—my first time deserved better than a hazy, drunken memory.
Except… he had been… exceptional.
My throat went dry as I stared at him. Even asleep, he looked like he'd stepped out of some high-end cologne ad. And the memories—fleeting as they were—flooded back. The way his hands had been both demanding and gentle, like he knew exactly what he was doing.
If anything, I was the one who'd hit the jackpot, right?
Ugh, what am I even thinking? I shook my head, scrambling out of bed before my traitorous imagination could replay any more highlights. A shower. I needed a shower.
No way was I sticking around for the awkward morning-after chat.
Dressed, I buttoned my blouse up to my chin, hiding the evidence of last night's… enthusiasm.
So… technically, had I just paid for him?
The thought almost made me snort. Okay, fine—maybe not paid, but I had been the one to approach him.
(What I conveniently forgot was that my so-called "taking charge" had mostly involved collapsing under him in a breathless, moaning mess.)
Whatever. Given how… thorough he'd been, I owed him something, right?
After a beat of hesitation, I dug into my wallet and slapped my last two hundred bucks on the nightstand.
Not exactly a king's ransom, but it's not like I could swing by an ATM and come back. If he woke up now, I'd die of embarrassment.
Guilt prickled as I whispered, "Sorry, hot stuff. It's all I've got. If fate's cruel enough to throw us together again, I'll make it up to you… Actually, scratch that—let's not meet again. You don't exactly look like you need the cash anyway."
Then I bolted like Cinderella after curfew.
Silence settled over the room in my wake.
Two hours later, Julian Valentin finally stirred.
It had been years since he'd slept this deeply. Strange—this woman hadn't just satisfied him. She'd given him the first real rest he'd had in ages.
End of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage Chapter 29. Continue reading Chapter 30 or return to The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage book page.