The One-Night Stand

Ella's POV:

I didn't even know what I was asking for, but I felt an overwhelming need to be consumed, to lose myself completely in this moment, in him.

He responded to my plea without hesitation. His hands trailed down my body, leaving a path of fire in their wake as he slid lower, kissing and nibbling at my skin. Every touch, every brush of his lips, sent shivers of anticipation through me. I was trembling beneath him, barely able to hold myself together.

When he reached the waistband of my panties, he paused, looking up at me with those intense eyes, seeking permission. The rational part of me screamed to stop, to pull away, but I silenced it, nodding my consent. I wanted this. I needed this.

He slipped the thin fabric down my legs and tossed them aside, his gaze never leaving mine. The hunger in his eyes made me blush, made me feel more desired than I ever had before. It was intoxicating, the power he held over me in that moment, and I willingly surrendered to it.

He kissed the inside of my thighs, each press of his lips making me squirm in anticipation. I was desperate for him, for the way he was making me feel alive again. When his mouth finally found its way between my legs, I let out a broken moan, my hands instinctively tangling in his hair.

He was relentless, his tongue flicking and teasing in a rhythm that had me writhing beneath him, desperate for release. I could feel the pleasure building, a tidal wave that threatened to consume me, to wash away every last piece of the pain that still lingered.

"Don't stop," I gasped, my grip tightening in his hair as the pleasure mounted, the pressure inside me becoming almost unbearable.

He didn't. He pushed me higher and higher until I was teetering on the edge, the world around me fading into a blur of sensation. And then, with one final flick of his tongue, I fell, the release crashing over me in a wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

I cried out, my back arching off the bed as the orgasm tore through me, leaving me breathless and trembling. He didn't stop, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until I was left panting, utterly spent.

When I finally came down from the high, he kissed his way back up my body, his lips gentle, soothing. I was still reeling, still caught in the aftershocks of what he had just done to me, but the need for him hadn't faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger, more urgent.

He hovered over me, his breath warm against my skin as he looked down at me, his eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch tender, almost reverent.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice rough, filled with desire, but also with a hint of something deeper, concern, perhaps. It was as if he was giving me one last chance to back out, to stop this before we went too far.

But I didn't want to stop. I wanted to lose myself in him, to forget everything but the way he was making me feel. So I reached up, cupping his face in my hands, and pulled him down for a kiss, my answer clear in the way I pressed my lips to his.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed me back, his movements more urgent now, filled with a raw, desperate need. He fumbled with his belt, his pants, and I helped him, our hands tangling together in our haste to rid him of the last barrier between us.

When he finally freed himself, he pressed against me, the heat of him making me gasp. I could feel the anticipation, the tension between us, building to a fever pitch. My heart was racing, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he positioned himself at my entrance.

He paused, his eyes locking with mine one last time, as if to make sure I was okay, that I wanted this as much as he did. And I did. I wanted him, needed him, in a way that I had never needed anyone before. So I nodded, my hands gripping his shoulders as I prepared myself for what was to come.

He pushed inside me slowly, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. I gasped, my nails digging into his skin as he filled me, stretched me, the pain and pleasure mixing together in a way that made my head spin. He was careful, gentle, giving me time to adjust, to catch my breath.

When I was ready, I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him to move. He obliged, his thrusts slow at first, almost tentative, as if he was afraid of hurting me. But as the pleasure began to build again, I urged him on, my moans spurring him to go faster, harder.

The room was filled with the sound of our ragged breaths, our bodies moving together in a desperate, frenzied rhythm. The world outside ceased to exist, the only thing that mattered was the way he made me feel, the way he made me forget.

And for a little while, I did forget. I forgot about Klaus, about the betrayal, about the life I had thought I was building with him. All that mattered was this moment, this man, and the way he was making me feel alive again.

As the pleasure built to a crescendo, I clung to him, my nails raking down his back as I tumbled over the edge once more, a breathless whisper on my lips. He followed soon after, his body tensing as he found his own release, his arms wrapping around me as if he was afraid to let go.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies still intertwined, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. The world slowly came back into focus, the reality of what had just happened settling over me like a blanket.

I should have felt guilt, shame, regret. But I didn't. All I felt was a strange sense of peace, of calm, as if the storm that had been raging inside me had finally quieted.

He rolled off me, pulling me into his arms, and I let him. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. We didn't speak, the silence between us comfortable, almost soothing.

As I lay there, wrapped in his arms, I knew that this moment wouldn't last. When the sun came up, when the alcohol wore off, I would have to face the reality of what I had just done.