Whiskey, Secrets, and Surrender

The first time Loida met Nicholas, it was over a glass of overpriced whiskey in a bar that smelled like leather and old money. Her sister’s boyfriend, a loud man with a laugh that filled the room, had introduced them with a slap on Nicholas’s back and a wink at Loida. “This one’s got stories,” he’d said, as if that was all the recommendation she needed.

Nicholas didn’t look like a man with stories. He looked like a man who wore tailored suits and probably ironed his socks. But there was something in the way his dark eyes flicked over her—lingering just a second too long on the curve of her neck, the way her blouse clung to her hips—that made her skin prickle.

“So,” he said, swirling his drink, “what does a Filipina lawyer do for fun in New York?”

Loida arched a brow. “The same thing any lawyer does. Works too much, drinks too much, and occasionally wonders why she ever left Manila.”

He smirked. “And does she regret it?”

She took a slow sip, letting the burn of the whiskey settle in her chest before answering. “Not yet.”

That was the first night. The second night, he took her to a jazz club where the air was thick with smoke and the low hum of a saxophone. They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to. The way his thigh brushed against hers under the table, the way his fingers traced idle patterns on the back of her hand—it was a conversation all its own.

By the third date, she was starting to recognize the way her body reacted to him. The way her breath hitched when he leaned in to whisper something unnecessary in her ear. The way her pulse jumped when his knee pressed against hers in the back of a cab.

It was on the fourth date that things changed.

They’d gone to his place—a penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows that made the city glitter like a stolen necklace. He’d poured her wine, and she’d perched on the edge of his couch, watching him move around the kitchen like a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up from the stove.

“You’re easy to look at.”

That made him glance at her, his lips twitching. “Careful, Loida. Compliments like that might go to my head.”

“And where else might they go?”

He set the pan down, finally turning to face her fully. The heat in his gaze was enough to make her shift in her seat. “You’re playing with fire.”

She stood, letting her skirt ride up just enough to show a little more thigh. “Maybe I like the burn.”

That was all it took.

Nicholas closed the distance between them in two strides, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hard lines of his body, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. His mouth crashed into hers, hot and demanding, and she met him kiss for kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He tasted like whiskey and sin.

His hands roamed, mapping the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, before sliding up to cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse. She gasped into his mouth, her nipples hardening under his touch.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her lips.

She didn’t.

Instead, she tugged at his tie, loosening it, then moving to the buttons of his shirt. She wanted to see him. All of him. The way his skin would look under the dim glow of the city lights, the way his muscles would shift beneath her hands.

He let her undress him, his own fingers busy with the zipper of her skirt. It pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her blouse and a pair of lace panties that suddenly felt far too insufficient.

“Christ,” he muttered, his voice rough as his gaze raked over her. “You’re stunning.”

She reached for his belt, her fingers fumbling in her haste. He groaned when she finally freed him, his length springing free, thick and heavy in her palm. She stroked him once, twice, savoring the way his breath hitched, the way his hips jerked into her touch.

But she wanted more.

She dropped to her knees, looking up at him through her lashes. His jaw was clenched, his hands flexing at his sides like he was fighting the urge to grab her. She licked her lips, then took him into her mouth, slow and deliberate.

His groan filled the room, his fingers finally giving in and threading through her hair. “Loida—”

She hollowed her cheeks, taking him deeper, her tongue swirling around the tip before pulling back to tease the sensitive underside. His thighs trembled, his grip tightening just enough to guide her, but never force her.

When she finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her breath coming fast. He hauled her to her feet, his mouth crashing into hers again, his hands everywhere at once—cupping her ass, squeezing her breasts, sliding between her thighs to find her soaked through her panties.

“Bedroom,” he growled against her lips. “Now.”

She didn’t argue.

The bedroom was all dark wood and soft lighting, the bed a massive thing piled with pillows. He backed her toward it, his mouth never leaving hers, his hands stripping her of the rest of her clothes until she was bare before him.

He took a moment to just look at her, his gaze dark and hungry. “You’re perfect.”

She reached for him, pulling him down on top of her. The first press of his skin against hers was electric, the heat of him searing into her. His mouth trailed down her neck, nipping at her collarbone before capturing one nipple in his mouth. She arched into him, a moan spilling from her lips as his teeth grazed the sensitive peak.

His hand slid between her thighs, his fingers parting her folds, circling her clit with a touch that was almost too gentle. She whimpered, her hips lifting, begging for more.

“Please,” she breathed.

He didn’t make her wait.

With one swift motion, he settled between her thighs, his mouth replacing his fingers. The first swipe of his tongue made her gasp, her fingers tangling in the sheets. He worked her with slow, deliberate strokes, his tongue tracing patterns that had her writhing beneath him.

“Nicholas—” His name was a prayer on her lips, a plea.

He didn’t let up, his fingers joining his mouth, slipping inside her with a rhythm that had her back bowing off the bed. The pressure built, coiling tight in her stomach, until she was trembling, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

When she came, it was with a cry, her body shaking as the waves of pleasure crashed over her. He didn’t stop, drawing out every last shudder, every aftershock, until she was boneless beneath him.

Only then did he move, positioning himself between her thighs, his length pressing against her entrance. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him inside her.

He pushed in slowly, giving her time to adjust, but she didn’t want slow. She wanted him. All of him.

“Harder,” she demanded, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

With a groan, he thrust into her, deep and hard, filling her completely. She cried out, her head falling back as he set a punishing pace, each snap of his hips driving her wild. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

His mouth found hers again, his kisses bruising, desperate. She met him thrust for thrust, her body moving with his in a rhythm as old as time.

“Come for me,” he growled against her lips, his hand slipping between them to circle her clit once more.

The command sent her over the edge. Her second orgasm crashed into her like a tidal wave, her body clenching around him as she shattered. He followed her over, his own release spilling into her with a groan, his forehead pressed to hers as they both fought to catch their breath.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Nicholas rolled to the side, pulling her with him so she was sprawled across his chest, her skin slick with sweat, her heart still pounding.

She could feel his heartbeat beneath her ear, steady and strong. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her back, his breath warm against her temple.

“So,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction, “still no regrets?”

Loida let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Not a single one.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her. “Good. Because I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”

She propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him. His dark hair was a mess, his lips swollen from her kisses. And yet, he’d never looked more handsome.

“Oh, it is,” she promised, her fingers trailing down his chest, lower, lower. “But for now, I think we’ve earned a round two.”

His grin was wicked. “Who said anything about rounds?”

She arched a brow. “You’re not suggesting we stop now, are you?”

He rolled her beneath him in one swift motion, his body covering hers, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

No, they weren’t stopping anytime soon.