Unnerving. Alluring. Irresistible.

Those were the first words that came to mind when I thought about the guy from the bar. He was a "fuck me harder, Daddy" kind of stud.

I walked into my apartment, flustered, horny, and with absolutely soaked panties. It was maddening. This wasn't supposed to happen to me. Studying to be a lawyer demanded mastery in self-control, persuasion, and foxiness. Those were the minimum requirements for courtroom domination. Yet today, I'd creamed my panties in two minutes flat because of a hot stranger in a bar.

Who the fuck was he?

His electric-silver eyes sparked a fire in my core, and his brazen gaze drew me to him like he held life's secrets. His firm hands on my thighs had only made me crave more. I needed them everywhere. Pleasuring me. Making my body soar to new heights.

And that smile shone as bright as a neon warning sign.

He was a dangerous sort of man for a woman like me. I wouldn't be a performer in his show. I ran my own game. So I had to blot the image of the smoldering six-foot-something hotrod out of my mind. After all, he had only been around me for a few minutes. How hard could it be?

The memory of our electric skin-to-skin contact weakened my resolve. His touch had charged every angel hair on my body. They'd risen and separated one by one as if to welcome him.

Sliding down the zipper of my little black dress, my fingers trailed from the nape to the arch of my back, and then to that sexy spot resting above my ass. I slid the dress off of me, pausing at my thighs.

His hands were here. He touched me here.

My mind wandered back to his biceps outlined beneath that crisp black shirt. The strong veins popping out from beneath his rolled-up sleeves had been mouthwatering. And those chiseled thighs were worthy of a seasoned quarterback. The dark jeans he'd worn hugged his legs in all the right places, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive a woman crazy.

Gods, he was a work of art.

This mystery guy had a hold on me and I wanted to know why. What set him apart from the other hot guys I used for sex? I never remembered their faces. Their game, maybe. But I was never interested in more than a one-time thing. Sure, this man was hotter than any fuckboy I'd ever seen, but that wasn't enough reason for him to live in my mind rent-free. Right?

Perhaps an indulgent bubble bath would calm down my rushing carnal thoughts. Walking around the bathroom in my innocent white bralette and panties, I gathered what I needed to feel at ease: scented candles, a lush goddess bath bomb, and a glass of bubbly rosé. Hot water began filling up the tub, spreading steam and the scent of lavender around the room. I hummed to the spa music playing in the background as I tied my hair into a high pony with a brown scrunchie.

Taking a seat in front of the large mirror in my vanity area, I pumped the facial cleansing milk onto my fingertips and massaged it into my face and neck. After wiping off with a warm towel, I applied a honey glaze mask to rest while I soaked in the tub.

As I slid my creamed, white panties down my legs, my thoughts bounced right back to the hottie responsible for the wetness on them. His face had been inches from mine, and his scent had fucked with my senses all around.

See, I had a hobby, a little game I played with my friends anytime they wore a new perfume. I'd identify all the notes in their fragrance: powdery, woody, fruity, aromatic...and a few hours later when they searched it on the internet, they'd attest to my exceptional nose. I'd always gotten it right, until tonight.

When the stranger's hands cleaned my thighs, I inhaled his scent. Explosive notes of fresh spice, dark wood, and something strangely grasslike. It was unlike anything I'd ever smelled before. Intriguing.

Perhaps I could go to the bar tomorrow for the sole purpose of solving that missing green fragrance note.

Stop lying to yourself. You want to see him again.

I dipped one foot inside the tub, stilling for a few seconds to adapt to the warm temperature before settling in to enjoy the soak. I sipped the citrusy wine as the fragrant oils caressed my skin, leaving it supple and smooth. Zen music soothed my worries, and the gentle faint popping of the bubbles guided me toward a mindful peace.

In my busy schedule, this was one of the few ways I could meditate. This was my final year of law school, and I was walking a tightrope. Juggling the many demands of my life was an arduous process, especially when I liked to focus on one issue at a time. In order to get through the stress in one piece, I'd needed to reorder my priorities, over and over, until getting dick was at the bottom of the list. Sucked, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Then again, maybe if I'd let myself relax once in a while I wouldn't be obsessing over a random encounter with a hot nameless stranger.

Lifting the glass by its thin stem, I took another sip from my wine, savoring the tangy flavor bursting on my tongue. I had been drinking a rosé earlier too when that dreamy man interrupted and completely upended my night.

I had licked my lips when I had seen his fingers. They were long, sturdy, with no calluses on them. He had moved in small circles while he cleaned my dress, like he was tracing delicate musical notes before an explosive symphony.

Stop thinking about doing him. Your body's reaction is clear. "Run!"

To or from him?

Closing my eyes, I started moving my hands in small circles like he had, massaging the rounds of my breasts and teasing the sensitive nipples. Sultry moans escaped my lips, and I eased myself lower into the bath. Water covered my neck and shoulders, and sensual warmth spread all over me.

What if I never saw him again?

My eyes fluttered open in panic. I wanted to see him again. I needed to.

Dom could get me the silver-eyed stud's personal information in case he checked out of the hotel. He was chummy like that. Normally I wouldn't stoop to such actions, but my curiosity was gnawing on this man like a dog with a bone. Using the smoldering mystery man to end my self-imposed sex hiatus was simply a...happy side effect. Yeah.

I took deep breaths and relaxed in the hot water, but the idea of using him for sex was taking root in my mind and running wild. This was meant to happen. It was going to happen. I'd do everything to find him.

What would sex with him feel like? How long would it take him to make me come?

Coming...

I could really use a release tonight. The guy had my body sexually frustrated like a thin rubber band ready to snap. My silicone rabbit was sleeping in my bedside drawer, and I didn't want to leave the tub to fetch it. Considering how hot and bothered I was, my fingers alone would be enough to send me to nirvana and back.

Sensually, I slithered my palms up over my thighs, past my waist, feeling every inch of me, working my way to knead my tits. It felt nice. My body relaxed even more, and a light smile tugged at my lips. Scooping up some lavender foam, I softly lathered my arms, slowly and with mindfulness. But my fingers were itchy to go back to that voracious place between my legs where heat was building up.

The playlist reached the end of the lulling spa music and moved on to my list of saved concertos. A hungry hum vibrated in my throat. Concertos began with delicate, exquisite notes that held your breath hostage and finished with powerful and exciting bursts of music.

I could use that. Finish high like the concerto.

Soft flutes played in the background, beckoning me toward gentle dreams of passion. I continued caressing myself with the bathwater, watching the bubbles pop as I did. My hands slid southward, resting on the spot where he had touched earlier. I swear my skin felt warmer there, like he'd imprinted his touch on me.

Nonsense, Tristen. You're a lawyer, not some reader of romances. It's all in your head.

But what if he'd moved just a little bit toward my inner thigh? What would that have felt like? I gnawed on my lower lip at the thought as my finger buzzed with anticipation. With gentle up and down strokes, I teased my vulva. Steady, tingling pleasure danced along my skin, curling my toes.

Would the silver-eyed stud ask what I wanted him to do to me? Or would he tune my body and play me like a fine instrument? Would he be skilled enough to wow me with his performance?

I am.

His voice echoed inside my head. Its smooth timbre made the hairs on my nape rise with desire. I pictured his beautiful face before me as I started playing with my inner lips, gliding two fingers up and down until they were coated with my arousal.

Would he take them into his mouth and suck?

I have to taste your sweetness, baby.

Lord have fucking mercy on me. More and more instruments began to play, building on top of each other. My knees buckled inside the tub and needy moans escaped my lips. Closing my eyes, I imagined what this man would do to me if he were here. How his silver-ringed eyes would watch me as I came undone at his masterful fingers. Moving my pointer finger to my throbbing clit, I made small circles until tremors of pleasure wracked my whole body.

"I'm so close. Will you let me come?" I cried into the empty room.

Yes. Come for me, love.

The violas in the concerto played more quickly, sawing short and fast across the strings. I stroked my finger in rhythm across my clit, faster and faster until I tipped over the edge.

Music swelled around me as I detonated like a sparkler candle. Loud moans filled the candlelit bathroom. I shoved two fingers inside me, stuffing myself as I rode the aftershocks of that toe-curling orgasm.

"Oh my god! Yes!" I panted. "Don't stop! You are so fucking good at this. Erm...you...yes! You!"

YOU?

What the fuck was his name?

The orchestra crescendoed. I gasped and squealed. Gushes of water spewed out of the black marble tub like an overflowing river. Future me was not going to enjoy cleaning up this mess.

As the music died down, I forced my breathing to slow and steadied my frantic heartbeats. I opened my eyes and shakily propped myself up in the bathtub. My mind was in denial, refusing to admit the inevitable.

I'd come to the dirty thoughts of a stranger.

Why did imagining him doing naughty things with me give me so much pleasure? I got a high that obliterated me from reality. He was that good inside my mind.

But I didn't know his fucking name!

Anger and euphoria fought inside me as I wobbled on shaky legs to towel off. Tonight was a nasty shock for me. Someone else had overpowered my senses.

And I had liked it.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten more hours until daybreak, and my mission would officially begin. No man was going to make me orgasm without telling me his name.

Ticktock, pretty boy. I'm coming to find you.