A little background on Eric Diamonde? He hates women. It's his trauma.
When he was four, his father made some bad business decisions that caused his mother to be uncertain of a guaranteed soft life. She left his father for another man. His father could not bear the heartbreak and committed suicide. But his grandfather had managed to revive the company. Then his mother had come to claim custody but his grandfather paid her and off again she was with yet another man.
Now, there's some classic soap opera shit. Of course Eric was just a kid when it all played out and he seemed so unaware and innocent. Who would have thought he would be adversely affected by mommy issues? Now he's fucking thirty three, and heir to a whole conglomerate. Yet, he has never been with a woman. Not even a one night stand! Not even a date to any of the numerous public functions he's been spotted at. Once, he had sued a model who spread a rumour about having a one night stand with him.
"Is the idea of fucking me so bad?" She had maniacally screamed at him in court while he walked out, certain to win. And that, my friends, was the one and only scandal he had ever been in. It was just enough to be wary now and allow time to tell if he would continue to be a woman repellent.
Now, time had told. In my fucking bed.
The first thing I did on seeing him naked, covered partially by the duvet, was laugh. Clearly, I was more hungover than I thought. No headache, but this was a pretty wild and far fetched hallucination. Well, can you blame me if I decided to make the most of it? I relished the thought of the untouchable Eric being naked in my bed. It was a shame that he hated women given what a heavenly masculine specimen he was.
"Wow," I said as I nodded approvingly. I ignored his glare as I ran my hands through his silky dark hair, before trailing my fingers down his face and five o'clock shadow and those luscious lips of his. I drew in his heady scent and pressed my nose to nuzzle his muscular chest. I ran my hands over his biceps, his abs.
Never had my imagination been so liberal! As my physical appreciation moved past his narrow waist, I paused. Through the duvet, I could see that he was sexually aroused. Whoa, I had imagined Eric to be that big? Who would hate women with a dick that big? How the hell would he get off? Maybe he was gay after all.
"Alright, these hallucinations have gotta stop!" I proclaimed aloud. I reached for the intercome by my bedside.
"What do you think you are doing?"
"Calling room service for some hot coffee and tea. You want some? Cause I'm sure I can imagine one for you."
"Gimme that." He yanked the intercom phone away abruptly, causing the wire to cut.
"Hey! Who's going to pay for that?" I protested. Was I seriously arguing with my hallucination? Wait one more moment, did my hallucination just physically destroy something? Wouldn't that only be possible if my hallucination wasn't a hallucination at all but entirely real?
And now folks, was when the foggy events of last night began to dawn on me.
I went to the club and while having fun, I ordered a whole bottle of vodka— didn't even know it was spiked. I had offered to share the bottle with a stranger who had punched a guy trying to harass me. I think the stranger tried to send me home but I told him I was divorcing my husband. So we got in the same taxi instead when we found out we had booked rooms in the same hotel. By that time, the both of us were so high I don't think we succeeded in going our separate ways.
I furiously blushed as bits and pieces of the night started slapping me. Eric had been insatiable while he had pulled orgasm after orgasm out of me. His fingers made me see stars. His tongue opened the floodgates of heaven. His dick sent me to paradise and back. Never in my whole life had I had such passionately wild sex.
"Do you remember it now? All of it?" His dick was still standing, threatening to poke a hole through the duvet. That was how I knew he was remembering it too.
"But… but how…?" I trailed off, my eyes widening with disbelief. I remained petrified as Eric answered a call with someone who obviously made up his vast PR team.
"No! No need to take down the articles. Leave them," he said abruptly as he cut the call. My eyes bulged. Eric had the power to take down the articles colouring his name and he was declining? Oh, what I wouldn't give to be him except I would be wiping my whole life clean off the internet and becoming a hermit afterwards.
"Are you crazy?" I bellowed at him as I shamelessly deliberated in my mind on how to beg him to have at least mine taken down. To my horror, his lips curled up in a one sided smirk.
"You women are such sly creatures," he began to say. "Are you happy now that you've finally gotten what you wanted, the untouchable heir in your bed (or rather my bed since we ended up in my fucking suit). Maybe you think you've won but I'll make you regret it." He was dialling another number. "I am getting married. You know what to do."
"Nice," I drawled, "I'd have done the same if I wasn't already married."
He looked at me confused and asked, "whatever do you mean?" Causing me to shrug and explain that the easiest way to escape the scandal of me was to finally reveal the paramour he had been hiding from the public for so long. He laughed, throwing his head back. His handsome cheeky smile dazzled my eyes.
"I think I should be more clear. You and I are getting married at our earliest convenience."
Did I hear him correctly?
Eric and me. Me and Eric. That's like God and devil!
I let out a nervous chuckle. "We were both stupendously drunk last night. And news flash, I'm already married."
"You told me last night that you were divorcing your husband."
"Do…?"
"Shh," he pressed a finger to my lip and I melted. "You've had your turn of touching me. Shame you didn't go any lower, but I'd make the most use of my turn."
Then, he crashed his lips on mine.