I was somewhat asleep when I felt something like a warm hand cupping my breast, and then something warm and moist press briefly onto my shoulder. There was enough warmth there for me to imagine it as someone's body, Luna's if only because that's the person I was used to laying next to. I groan sleepily as she moves closer to me, gently pulling my body against hers. I imagined that it was morning and this was her way of encouraging me to wake up, but I really needed some more sleep. I feel the same warm gentle hand shifting down the side of my body as if tracing my silhouette, tracing the dip of my waist and the funnel of my hips before disappearing altogether.

I sigh softly in my sleep as the hand moves from my hip, round my thigh, gently lifting my leg up and resting it against something just as warm. The feel of the erect velveteen girth of something nestling comfortably between my thighs confuses me enough to wake me. I open my eyes to the smile of a naughty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It most definitely was not Luna, it was Lucas.

I open my mouth to wonder exactly how we'd ended up in this position but his hand pulls my face towards him instead, his tongue making work of my mouth as his dick enters me.

He didn't want to fight me on this. I groan into his mouth at the feel of him inside me, his hand sliding back up to my breast and squeezing it as he thrusts powerfully into me. I gasp softly as he breathes "fuck" against my lips, thrusting deeper into me. All the screaming and moaning of what must have been a few hours ago rush in, gently, slowly, in great detail.

"Chan eil fhios 'am mar a bha mi a-riamh beò às aonais an fhaireachdainn seo mo ghràdh " Lucas huskily growls at me(I do not know how I ever lived without this feeling, my love)

I was going to have to ask him to only speak in languages we both understood or else say these things in front of Hervé so I could get a translation.

I opens my brown catshaped upturned eyes and meets his deep scorching gaze, my forehead furrowed in pleasure as he pummels into me in such a passionate dominating way. There were words forming on my lips... interrupted often by my moans and groans and he finally slows down his thrusts as if to hear what it was I was struggling to say.

"You're a fucking demon mo chridhe." I softly says to the Lothario of Whitlam, watching his eyes light up before he chuckles at the sentence, his deep chuckle influencing the way his cock moves inside me

"I'm glad you know that mo gràdh. Tha thu bòidheach agus bheir mise gad thoirt gu slàn." He huskily whispers back (you are beautiful and I will devour you wholeheartedly)

With that, he flips me onto my tummy and grabs onto the headboard, throwing the covers off us and riding me hard into the morning, occasionally stopping to slap my jiggling ass and place kisses on my shoulder as he warns me to stop running from him.

I'm not sure when exactly we fell asleep again, tired and satiated from all the fucking. I pop out of the bed with a crack of my spine and a determined look on my face. Not just because I was somewhat sober enough to realize that I'd slept with Lucas Roland again, but because my phone had chimed so consistently that it woke me up. My head was aching and I'd barely slept but I was set on getting out of here before I became a regular scheduled sex slave. Lucas' limp hand falls from my breast to my thigh with a soft thud, calling my attention to it and then to his chung sleepy face. He was so ridiculously good looking it actually made me mad! Mad enough to slip out of the bed and start looking for his car keys. I want my damn dress back... and couldn't envision any other way of leaving this godforsaken den of sin.

I figure if there's no evidence that I was here, that any of this happened (again) then we could just...pretend that it didn't! Especially because I had to be at the same office as him in a matter of hours! I reach for my phone, seeing my mum had just wrapped up her shift at the hospital and was replying to each individual text I'd sent her, mostly with knife emojis and promises to beat up Luna for doing this to her baby. I hunt for my clothes, grunting softly when all I can find is the silken shirt he'd worn last night as if that was something to wear out in public if you were anything other than the ultimate fuckboy. I cuss out his sleeping form and studying the floral silk shirt. I throw it over myself, surprised to find that it almost reached my knees and was so luxuriously orgasmically soft on the skin. It felt good against my skin, smelling excellently of him and looked good against my skin tone.

Maybe I'd keep it.

I think to myself as I puts my heels on and try to locate my coat only to conclude that I might not have gotten it from coat-check back at the gala. I retrace my steps backwards from his room, pausing on the second floor as I consider that Hervé had said this entire floor was his, maybe I could knock on Hervé's door and ask him to get me a cab home please. He'd do it, no questions asked, I know... well...some questions asked, but still, he'd do it. It's at the thought of him seeing my affected walk that truly stops me from seeking Hervé out.

It's the thought of those questions that lead me further down to what turns out to be the foyer.

"ought I call you a taxi ma'am?" A butler is asking me as if this was routine, a coat in his outstretched hand

My coat! I smile shyly, apologetically and take it from him, throwing it over myself. I can only imagine where he'd found it. I start to wonder if he'd been around when Lucas and I were...on the couch

"Could you please?" I shyly inquire

Of course he had a butler! What kind of royal knobhead didn't? Of course his butler was used to this, Lucas was madly effective when it came to bedding all the women who fit in his specific criteria. I didn't of course, so perhaps there was some novelty in this

"And might I add... that shirt looks much better on you." the nameless butler with the friendly smile says to me before disappearing somewhere

I stand there completely baffled. Did I know him from somewhere? I sit down by the step, opening my bag to see that my phone was now dead. What would mum say seeing me here in some strange man's house in his clothes with a dead phone and no way home?

Family prayer meeting anyone?

I smile back as the butler reappears with a small tea cup of something that smelled divine. I sip on the tea with a reluctant smile on my lips at the eager and friendly butler. I trusted him, of course... the unsettling feeling in my stomach was from the idea that this was a ritual of some sort that he'd performed with all of the Lothario of Whitlam's many lovers.

I wanted desperately to say that I wasn't one of them, but all the evidence of the previous night was stacked against me.

I know I said this last time but this time I'm more serious! Never again!

I decide firmly, before leaning towards the butler.

"I... left my dress in his... Maserati." I mumble softly, trying to fight the embarrassment back, determined to leave absolutely no evidence that I was ever here

"Unfortunately ma'am, earl Whitlam has the keys to that particular Maserati. I'd be open to smashing the window in if you are?" the butler offers, the humour in his eyes hard to miss.

I chuckle softly back, picturing myself and Lothario Whitlam's friendly butler smashing in the car's window all for a dress that didn't cost as much as the window would.

"Perhaps another time." I sigh as I hear a car pull up to what I assume is one of the many entrances the house had

"Perhaps" He chimes back genially, helping me to my feet and all the way to the car

He bids me goodnight, which is extremely kind of him considering how much of night had already passed and then instructs the driver of the town car. I'm surprised to find that he knew where I stay, but I don't say anything about it. I lean back and stare at my dead phone. I was going to take a nice long hot bath that would ease the delicious pain between my legs and allow me to rethink my entire strategy.

Then when my phone was charged up I'd call mum and tell her everything I knew about Luna's plans to sabotage my career and we'd commiserate about that and then I'd plan my day around avoiding Lucas at the office as I rethink why this night had happened. The important thing was that when Lucas Roland, earl of Whitlam, brother to Countess Carlen Roland-Macleod, CEO of a fine architecture firm, Best friend to Hervé McClure the crown Duke of Angelford, owner of several luxury sports cars and what he considered to be several fine lovers, opens his eyes in his bed to stare at the woman sleeping beside him I would no longer be there. It could be any of his other lovers but not I.