“Don’t worry. I wanted it too.” Her lips curl slightly. “You weren’t the only one enjoying themselves last night.”

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Summary:

The first time you walked into The Velvet Hour, it wasn’t because you needed a drink. Not really. You just needed a distraction. Or that was the last thing you thought before you lost consciousness.

The Morning after, you woke up to chaos: Sheets tangled. Pillows on the floor. Your body ached in places it shouldn’t. The scent of perfume clung to your skin, mixing with the faint traces of whiskey. 

And then you noticed the marks.

Lipstick stains.

Bright red smudges trailing down your neck, your chest, even the faintest smudges on your wrist. Evidence of a night you couldn’t remember.

But worse—there were bite marks too. Small, sharp impressions along your collarbone. A deep one on your shoulder, faint bruises forming around it. The kind of marks that didn’t come from something innocent.

Your head pounded as you sat up, trying to grasp at any memory, but nothing came. No flashes of heat. No drunken confessions. Just nothing.

You returned. You had to. The gnawing uncertainty in your gut wouldn’t let you rest.

When you stepped into The Velvet Hour when the sky gets dark, everything looked the same, except now, you felt like an intruder in your own story.

Then you saw a woman Bartender coming closer as you raise your hand. She was behind the bar, effortlessly composed, her dark eyes flickering with something playful the moment she noticed you. Before you could even speak, she smirked and leaned forward.

“Well,” she purred, “Wasn’t that an incredible night?”

Your breath caught.

Your body tensed. You hadn’t even said a word, hadn’t even formed the question in your mind before she threw it at you like a loaded gun. Something isn’t right. She chuckled at your reaction, slow and indulgent, like she was savoring the moment.

“What’s wrong?” she teases, head tilting.

“You look lost.”

You part your lips, but she cuts you off with a playful sigh.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already ... when you clung to me last night,” she purrs, her voice dripping with amusement, "drunk, irresistible... desperate for more.”

She leans in, her breath warm against your skin, his brown eyes darkened with mischief.

“Utterly starved for me, told me you like it rough ... So I had to leave my mark on you."

From her far-fetched confession, you almost couldn't believe it. Why could she guess what was on your mind? You start to realize that the situation is worse than you thought about. Because no matter how hard you tried to recall— You didn’t remember asking her to come home with you.

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More of her Pics here (WARNING! VERY SPICY)