Hi, Mr Barry

Pleasure From a Stranger

Ava’s POV (mature content ahead)

I made three mistakes that night.

The first was ordering that fourth drink.

The second was letting a stranger buy me the fifth.

The third was considerably more complicated and involved a hotel suite on the fourteenth floor of a building expensive enough to have its own name and a man who kissed like he had no intention of being forgotten.

I’d like to say I don’t know how I got there.

I know exactly how I got there.

His name was Barry. He had warm hands and an unhurried voice and he listened to me the way people rarely do — completely. Without checking his phone or scanning the room or waiting for his turn to speak. He just listened.

I didn’t tell him about Ben. Not directly. I told him I’d had a betrayal. The kind that rearranges things. He didn’t push for details. Just nodded like he understood the specific weight of that word and ordered me something that wasn’t a shot.

“Drink this instead.” He slid a glass toward me. Something amber and clearly expensive. “Slowly.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not the first person to walk into a bar trying to drink something away.” He said it without judgment. “The shots won’t work. They never do.”

“Spoken from experience?”

“Spoken from observation.” He swirled his own glass. “I don’t drink to forget. I prefer to remember everything.”

Something about the way he said that made the back of my neck prickle.

I drank the amber thing slowly like he said.

He was right. It was better.

We talked for two hours at the bar area. About everything and nothing. He was funny in a dry understated way that crept up on you. Sharp. He asked questions that made me think before answering. He said things that stayed with me after the conversation moved on.

At no point did he make a move.

At no point did he make me feel like a move was the point.

Which is precisely why when he finally looked at me and said simply “I have a suite not far from here” it didn’t feel like a line.

It felt like an honest statement from an honest man leaving a door open.

The choice was entirely mine.

I looked at him for a long moment.

Then I picked up my bag.

“Lead the way.”

The suite was everything the building promised.

Floor to ceiling windows. City lights spread below like something deliberate. The kind of room that makes you feel like the world outside is a painting hung there for your benefit.

I stood at the window while he poured two glasses of water because apparently even in this Barry was practical.

“Here.”

I turned. Took the glass. Drank half of it.

He was watching me with that same focused quality that had caught my attention across the club. Like I was something worth paying attention to completely.

“You’re staring.” I said.

“I am.”

“It’s slightly unnerving.”

“I’ll stop if you’d like.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He set his water glass down.

And crossed the room.

He stopped just inside my personal space. Close enough that I had to tilt my head slightly to maintain eye contact. He smelled expensive.

His hand came up slowly.

Deliberate. Unhurried. Everything about this man was unhurried.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Let his fingers trail along my jaw just barely.

“Still unnerving?” His voice was lower now.

My heart was doing that inconvenient thing again.

“Getting there.” I managed.

His thumb traced my cheekbone. Featherlight. Like a question.

“Ava.”

“Mr Barry.”

“Tell me to stop and I stop.”

I reached up and took the hand on my face. Held it.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Turn over, Face up, Ass down” He said with his voice thick with desire and something I can’t quite describe yet. But the way he said it. No hesitation, no softness just straight command. It felt like I was about to see someone else asides from the one who’s been making a conversation with me for the last few hours. And that, that made my body react before my brain even caught up. Chest down, ass in the air, needy as hell.

Every time I thought I was close, he pulled back. My p***y ached, throbbing, so damn desperate for release I could scream. And then...smack.

"Ahhh, s**t-" I hissed, sucking in air through my teeth, "ssssss." The sting shot straight through me, fire and want all tangled together.

He smacked me again, harder this time, the sound sharp, echoing. "You like that?" His voice was calm, dangerous.

My face buried into the pillow, I nodded fast, my hair sticking to my cheek.

Smack. Even harder. "It's yes or no, sweetheart."

"Yes," I moaned out, breathless, needy, shamefully loud.

He leaned over me, chest pressing into my back. I could feel his heat. And God………The smell of him. A mix of Whiskey, Cologne and clean sweat. So masculine.

Then he shifted lower, looking straight between my legs. I swear, I could feel his stare on my p***y before he even said a word.

"Messy little thing," he muttered, unbuckling his belt slow, deliberate.

The sound of leather sliding through the loops made my stomach drop.

I couldn't think about anything else but his d**k. My brain was screaming turn around, and when I finally did, there he was...stroking it. Slow. Thick in his hand, veins popping, head slick.

My brows shot up, but his eyes? Fixed right on me. And then he smiled. Both dimples showing. Hot. Damn.

That d**k is definitely going to tear me apart.

He ripped the condom wrapper with his teeth. And I never thought I would ever see a man look sexy opening a condom but he does it so effortlessly.

He slid it on still watching me like I was the only thing that mattered to him.

"Your safe word is pink Just like the color of your p***y," he said, voice steady, almost too calm. "You'll use it if something feels wrong. If it hurts in the wrong way. If you want to stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I whispered, nodding too fast.

"Not yes." His hand pressed down on my lower back, pinning me. "Say it like you mean it."

"Yes Sir," I repeated, stronger.

"Good girl."

And then he-slid in

My eyes rolled back instantly, breath torn from me as he filled me deep. My hands clawed at the sheets, moans slipping before I could even stop them.

"So f*****g tight," he gritted, voice low in my ear. His hand pressed heavy into my lower back, keeping me pinned. He pulled out slow, spit on his d**k, and shoved it back in hard —wet, nasty, obscene. The sound of it made my stomach flip.

He leaned over me, chest pressed to my back, heat wrapping me up. "Turn your head." His fist tangled in my hair, yanking until my eyes met his. "Look at me while I f**k you."

I whimpered, nodded, legs trembling.

I turned my head, watching him f**k me, and his eyes never left mine.

Filthy. Possessive. Every time my ass smacked against his thighs, his stare pinned me there, like he wanted me to see me coming undone.

He smacked my ass hard, the sting shooting through me. Pulled out, slammed back in, hitting that spot on purpose. My eyes rolled, throat catching on a scream.

"Fuckk," I moaned, gripping the sheets, body arching.

He stopped doing the work, leaned back, and let me take it. My hips moved on their own, bouncing back against him, loud, wet, messy.

"That's it," he rasped, voice rough, eyes dark. His hand slid up my spine, grabbed the back of my neck. "Show me how bad you want it."

I slammed back harder, ass clapping against him, moaning shamelessly.

"Good girl. Just look at you, taking me so well." His chuckle was low, masculine, full of pride. "Hear that?

That's you...creaming all over me. Making a f*****g mess”

I gasped, body shaking, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

"Keep bouncing on my c**k," he demanded, grip on my neck tighter. "Don't run now”.

"Oh Goddd," I cried, voice breaking as my body shook. I was so f*****g close.

He took over then, pounding into me so hard my ass clapped against him in messy, wet slaps. His hand spread me open, wider, deeper, until I gasped....until I was screaming into the sheets.

"Spread your ass cheeks wider," he growled, and I obeyed, pulling myself open, shameless.

"Fuckkk yesss," I moaned, my whole body quaking.

He yanked me back against him, chest hand wrapped around my throat as he f****d me harder, faster, until I was squirting everywhere...soaking him, soaking the sheets, dripping down my thighs. Squirting was definitely a first me and trust me, this man can f**k.

"Look at the mess you're making on my bed," he muttered in my ear, not stopping, loving every second of it.

His hips kept crashing into me, rough, relentless, and then I heard it...his moans. Deep and low. The kind that made my stomach flip and my p***y clench even tighter around him. God, it might've been the sexiest thing I'd ever heard.

"Fuuuckkk," he dragged the word out, pulling out at the last second, stroking himself hard through the condom. His head dropped back, muscles tense, groaning through every pump as he came.

The next thing he told me to lie still and came with a cloth to clean me up while I was just lying down weak from my orgasm. And I didn’t even know when I fell asleep.