Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
The sun pierces through the blinds, painting the room in an unkind light. Faith groans, her head feeling like it's been used as a battering ram. She rolls over, the sheets sticking to her sweat-drenched body, and tries to piece together the night's events. She had gone out with her friends, they had all had a little too much to drink. The laughter, the music, the way the world swam around her - it's all there, but the details are hazy. She tries to sit up again, the room tilting dangerously, and she her clothes on the floor. Panic starts to set in as she feels the dampness between her legs, and a faint scent lingers in the air, something...familiar. She takes a deep, shaky breath and swings her legs over the side of the bed, the cold floor sending a shock through her. As her eyes adjust, she notices the wet spots on the bed, the faint smell of sex in the air. Her mind races, trying to fill in the blanks, but the fog of the alcohol is too thick. She wraps the robe around her, tying it tightly, as if it could somehow hold the pieces of her shattered reality together.
Faith's thoughts swirl as she sifts through the fragments of the previous night. She remembers the bar, the laughter, the feeling of liquid courage flowing through her veins. The faces of her friends blur into a kaleidoscope of color and sound. And then there's the memory of a man, a stranger with a charming smile, offering her a ride home when she could no longer stand. The memory is as murky as the bottom of a pond, distorted by the ripples of the alcohol. Her hand travels to her chest. Her breasts are tender, and her nipples are sensitive, reminding her of the sensation of being touched. The last thing she clearly recalls is stumbling into the house, the world spinning around her. Her stomach lurches, and she stumbles to the bathroom, the cold tile a relief against her bare feet.
Faith's hand freezes mid-air, her eyes widening in horror. The fog of the alcohol lifts just enough to reveal a flash of memory from last night: the feeling of a man's hand in her hair, the taste of him in her mouth. The realization hits her like a sledgehammer. She had been with someone, a man she didn't know. She can almost feel the weight of his cock on her tongue, the way he groaned in pleasure as she sucked him off. Her stomach turns, and she rushes to the bathroom, her hand over her mouth to stifle the retching. She sinks to the floor, her back against the cool porcelain of the toilet, and sobs into her hands. It's not the first time she's had a one-night stand, but the guilt and regret are always the same.