Kiara
Waking up in a bed that's warm and cozy, but unfamiliar, feels strange because I've been sleeping in my car for almost a week now.
Ugh, my head is pounding from the hangover. As I sit up, the sheet slips off and I realize I'm completely naked.

Oh no! I must have slept with that guy from the bar. Did I really drink that much that I don't remember anything? I mean, I should at least be feeling sore somewhere, right?
"Don't worry, I didn't touch you."
I snap my head in the direction of his deep, husky voice. He's sitting in a chair across from the bed, his cold gaze fixed on me.
How long has he been there watching me sleep? And if he didn't touch me, why am I naked? In HIS bed?
I ask in a hushed tone, my mouth suddenly feeling parched, " what time is it?"
"Quarter to midnight."

My cheeks burn with humiliation. Not only am I in his bed, but I've spent the entire day sleeping in it. I'm officially never drinking AGAIN!
"I'm so sorry, I should go," I mutter, frantically looking around for my clothes.
He motions towards the end of the bed, where my clothes are neatly folded on royal-blue ottoman. "Your clothes are right there. There's Tylenol and water on the dresser for your hangover. You must be starving, so meet me in the kitchen when you're done getting dressed, Cupcake." He stands up and leaves the room without another word, closing the door behind him.
Cupcake? Where did that nickname come from?

I take the meds, throw on my clothes, and rush to the en-suite bathroom in the room to check my reflection. Just as I suspected, I look like a hot damn mess! My hair is sweated out and I've got dark circles under my eyes from my makeup.
I use some water from the sink to slick my hair back into a ponytail. Luckily, I had a hair band on my wrist. Then, I use a wet tissue to scrub off the makeup.
A savory aroma wafts in my nostrils and I find my mouth watering as I leave the room to find the source of it. In the kitchen, the guy, whose name I still don't know, is cooking up a storm. He's shirtless, wearing a pair of gray joggers. I don't know what looks more delicious, him or the food.
His body is a work of art, sculpted with muscles that ripple and flex with each movement. What a girl would do to lick the sweat off that six pack!
"Are you gonna take a seat or keep drooling?" The hazel-eyed SexGod teases. Even with his back turned, I can hear the cockiness in his voice.
I shake my head, snapping out the trance, and plop down at the round table. There's only two chairs, so I'm assuming he doesn't eat with company often.
He must feel lonely at times living in this big space alone. I must admit though this is an amazing place to be alone in.
The black and white polished floor looks like a sleek chessboard, complimenting all of the monochromatic furniture. Framed photos of fancy dishes hang on the walls. He must really like food, or maybe these just came with the place.
Adjacent to the living room, there's an industrial-style kitchen with expensive looking appliances on the steel countertops.
The living room is my favorite, though. Huge, glass walls that stretch from the floor to the ceiling reveal a breathtaking view of the beach and ocean. I can only imagine how amazing it feels to walk out on the patio and see the sunrise as the waves crave upon the shore.
"Wow, this place is amazing!" I breathe, gazing out the window at the beach.
"Yeah, it's pretty nice," he mumbles, bringing two plates to the table and placing one of them in front of me. It's shrimp pasta with fresh citrus squeezed on top.
I've never had a man make me dinner before. Many adult men in my generation barely know how to boil water thanks to their mothers babying them and refusing to teach them basic life skills.
I thank him and daintily shove a forkful of pasta into my mouth. I stifle a moan as my eyes roll back in my head.
Holy fuck, this tastes amazing!
"That good, huh?" He smirks.
My cheeks burn. He was watching my reaction?
"I-I've just never tasted pasta like this," I admit softly. At this point, I want to cover my face and hide, but I remain seated.
His eyes darken as he looks at me intently. "You know, ever since you attempted to seduce me earlier, I’ve been wondering how good your pussy tastes," he says, running his tongue along his bottom lip.
I nearly choke. Why am I surprised by his boldness? He's the one who approached me in the bar.
"I tried to seduce you?" I ask in horror.
He takes a sip of his water. "Oh yeah, got naked, wiggled that juicy ass in front of me, and I can only assume you were going to blow me before I stopped you," he says casually with a mischievous grin.
My face is so hot, I think I'm going to burst into flames at this point. So that is why I was naked! I shake my head in shame. "I'm so fucking sorry, I don't even remember that."
"Don't be, you weren't in your right mind." I watch as he strokes his chin. "If I'm being straightforward, I still want to fuck you. I want to wring every once of pleasure from you until the sun comes up, and then we will go our separate ways."
Am I hearing this correctly? After everything that happened today, he still wants to sleep with me?
I maintain my composure, but inside, I'm filled with immense curiosity and a burning desire for him to just start fucking me on this table. "And if I don't want that?" I ask cooly.
"You can sleep on the couch and I'll still drop you off, but I have a feeling you want this just as badly. Am I right?"
The cocky bastard already knows the answer, but he wants to hear me admit it aloud.
"I do," I nearly whisper.
He hums, amusement and lust swirling in his eyes. "Good. I have a few rules then."
Rules? Do you really need rules for a one-night-stand?
I lick my lips. How the hell do they keep getting dry? "Please continue."
"If we're going to do this, I don't want to know anything else about you, not even your name. I don't kiss. I won't touch you without a condom, and if you're expecting any sentimental, romantic shit, just know it's not going to happen." His face transforms into a solid, unyielding mask, yet the fiery, lustful intensity in his eyes remains. "I'm going to fuck you hard and rough. I'm going to consume every inch of your body, and then we're going to part ways."
Damn, is this a memorized speech? I almost let myself wonder how many times he has given this speech, but that's none of my business. We're here to use each other's bodies and never see each other again.
I nod. "Understood."
His lips curl mischievously. "And one more thing...you're going to address me as Chef."