My eyes blink open. Soft, golden early morning sunlight fills the room and I can see the view of the blue, blue
water. Gauzy curtains wave gently in the breeze.
It all comes flooding back to me. Holy shit. I finally did it. I lost my virginity. Very, very thoroughly. To a guy
whose name I don’t actually know. I glance over at him, still sle eping next to me, his burly arm looped around my
waist.
Ace. I watch him for a few minutes as he sle eps. He really is a beautiful man. He’s even more gorgeous in his
sle ep. Those sexy, masculine features are softer, somehow less severe. His dark eyelashes cast small shadows
against his handsome face, and I can see the stubble of his beard.
The stubble that scratched against my tender thighs as he was making me come with his mouth.
I lost count of how many orgasms he gave me. Once we started, we couldn’t seem to get enough. I can admit I
went a little crazy.
We had sex in positions I’ve never even heard of. Now, I move a little, gauging the state of my body and, yes:
I am very, very sore. But the ache feels... good. It reminds me of the wild pleasure.
More pleasure than I knew was even possible.
And I can confirm that my first time—and second and also third—was better than I could’ve imagined.
I’m glad I waited for him. “Ace” will always own a small piece of my heart.
Or maybe a big one. Don’t even go there, Texas. We agreed. One night. No names. Now he can get back to
his... life— hopefully not wife, but he told me there wasn’t one and I believed him.
And that’s as much as I can give him. Men don’t stick around, I learned that a long time ago. My heart was
broken by my father at the age of four years old and I never quite recovered. It was a heartbreak that was
reinforced every day by my struggling mother. Hard work and ind ependence is in my blood. I don’t have it in me
to get side-tracked by one beautiful—okay, the best of my life—night with my dirty-talking Mr. Swagger.
It’s time for me to go. Very carefully, I move his arm and wriggle out from under him. He stirs but doesn’t
wake. He’s tired, not surprisingly. We probably didn’t get more than two hours of sle ep. We made love and we
talked. We laughed. Those quiet murmurs while we were still connected at three a. m. might possibly be some of
the best memories of my entire life. Which is sort of sad, but it is what it is.
Silently, I find my clothes and my bag. Checking my phone, it’s 6:12. My flight leaves at 9:15.
Glancing again at his big body, those broad, tanned shoulders, the sheet low over his perfect washboard abs, I
wonder what he would do if I slipped back into bed and woke him up... by taking his big, hard cock into my
mouth... drinking those throbbing, gushing bursts.
I didn’t quite get around to trying that. And it would have taken our level of intimacy one giant st ep forward.
I wish I’d done it. Stop. At least we used protection. I give myself points for being responsible, even if I did
get down and dirty with a complete stranger... three or four times. Not including the things he did to me with his
mouth.
How am I even able to walk right now?
God, he felt so freaking good. What has this man done to me? I’ve lost my virginity to a guy who has very
possibly ruined me for all men. I mean, how can anything compare to Ace?
My face warms at the porn flick of fresh memories. I let a stranger tongue-fuck me in the penthouse suite of a
luxury hotel in Hawaii, then fuck me—several times over—as I screamed his name. Basically within one hour of
meeting the guy.
Anyway, I can’t regret any of it when he made me feel like a goddess. Like every inch of my body was the
most beautiful thing in the world, designed just for him.
But I need to snap out of my Ace-induced haze. If he got me this lust- drunk after one night, imagine what he
could do to me if I spent the day with him? Or another night? Or two?
The problem with Ace is that he has the power to break my heart, I knew that from the minute he sat down at
the bar with me with those blue eyes and that dark smile.
The reality is: you probably don’t get that skilled, that smooth, that irresistible out of nowhere. He’s obviously
done this many times. It’s probably second-nature for him at this point.
I silently thank my lucky stars we agreed it was a one-time thing. No strings attached and no regrets. It’s better
this way.
And so it’s back to reality for me. Even if it’s a slightly new reality. One in which I’m no longer an ice maiden
but a non-virgin sex queen who’s had six or seven back-to-back orgasms and is still riding my killer endorphin
rush.
Who even knew a person could come that much? I glance at the clock on the nightstand and quickly tie my
dress, pulling on my shoes.
Taking one final—long, lingering—look at Ace sle eping peacefully, I’m tempted to run my fingers through
his thick, disheveled hair and kiss his perfect mouth.
But I don’t. I scribble a quick note, grab my bag and very quietly leave. I sneak across to the elevator, hoping
like hell that it doesn’t wake him, and ride down to the fourth floor, making my way back to my room.
At record speed, I put my hair up and rinse myself under the shower, throw on a travel outfit, shove everything
into my suitcase and order an Uber.
I st ep out onto my balcony, allowing myself one more adoring gaze out over my Waikiki view. Bye, Hawaii.
Thank you for the best three days of my life.
Now it’s time to put some distance between me and the to-die-for hunk who’s still soundly asle ep in his
penthouse.
It was a one-time thing. End of story. But, wow, what a hot, beautiful, orgasmic story it was.