One Night Stand With My Ex's Uncle

Anna's POV

I tilted my head back, surrendering to the intoxicating rhythm of being lifted and dropped, over and over, in a frenzy that bordered on violent. The sensation was dizzying, decadent like falling without fear.

In the haze of pleasure, a sharp truth sliced through me: I, Anna Shaw, who once swore Jack Simpson would be my first and only, was now tangled in sheets with a stranger I hadn't even asked the name of.

And the most shocking part? I loved every second of it.

He moved with skill confident and unrelenting. Each thrust was deliberate, hard and thick, like he was trying to break me apart just to reconstruct someone new. My thoughts blurred, except one: next time, maybe I'll pick someone gentler to fuck me.

My nails sank into his shoulders, tracing the taut shift of muscle beneath his skin. The room spun as I let go, drowning in a tidal wave of pleasure I'd denied myself for far too long. He drove into me harder, deeper, and my body clenched around him like he was the only thing anchoring me to earth. My release came sharp and sudden, so intense I nearly blacked out.

The shrill ring of my phone dragged me back to the present.

I blinked at the ceiling unfamiliar, sterile, expensive.

"Ms. Shaw, don't forget about the wine tasting this afternoon at three. The social committee will be expecting you," came Rachel's voice crisp, efficient, and far too awake.

Of course, they'd schedule something right after my divorce was finalized. Like vultures circling, eager for proof that Anna Shaw couldn't stand on her own. Predictable.

"I'll be there," I said, ending the call with a sigh. One o'clock. I'd overslept.

As I shifted to sit up, an arm looped tightly around my waist, drawing me against a bare chest. I froze.

It was oddly intimate too intimate for daylight.

"Let go," I said, my voice sharper than intended. I pushed his arm away, fingers brushing muscle that triggered a vivid flash of last night. Those arms had hoisted me effortlessly, holding me midair as if gravity no longer mattered.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks.

I slipped out of bed.

He remained asleep, half his face buried in the pillow. All I could see was the sharp line of his jaw and the shadow of lashes against his cheek.

I escaped to the bathroom, showered quickly, and dressed. When I returned, he was awake leaning by the window, wrapped in nothing but a towel, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as he stared out at the skyline.

Broad shoulders. Tapered waist. Sculpted back. The Olympus Club hadn't exaggerated their "premium" offerings.

I scribbled a check, placed it on the table.

"Last night was satisfying. Five stars," I said coolly, then added, "And next time, don't smoke in front of me."

I didn't wait for a reply. I walked out.

Rachel was already waiting by the car. Her eyes widened as she took in the bruises blooming across my neck and collarbone.

"Ms. Shaw... your neck-"

I knew. My body was a canvas of red marks and love bites. Note to self: add a no-marking clause next time. My skin always betrayed me.

"Did you bring the clothes?" I asked, brushing past the concern in her voice.

She handed me a paper bag. I changed in the backseat without shame and reapplied my makeup like armor. The diamond tassel earrings glinted as I fastened them, the final touch to my transformation.

Rachel caught my eye in the mirror. I saw the hesitation, the gentle worry.

"Ms. Shaw... maybe you should skip this," she offered. "Those women this isn't support. It's a spectacle."

I closed my eyes briefly.

"No," I said. "They think I can't survive without a man. I'm going to educate them."

A smile played on my lips. Let them see the new Anna Shaw not broken, but reborn.

One hour later, I stepped out at the private club. My black dress hugged every curve, a tailored blazer draped over my shoulders. Heads turned. Conversations dulled to a hum.

"Anna Shaw? I can't believe she showed up. Didn't her husband leave her?" whispered one woman with oversized pearl earrings.

"She's still the same beauty queen," another scoffed. "Just without the crown or the man."

"She got dumped for that project manager. Lucy-someone, wasn't it?"

"She was too focused on her career. Men don't want ambition they want softness."

"Rumor is... she couldn't satisfy him in bed."

Their laughter was brittle and bright, like glass shattering.

I smiled.

I picked up a champagne flute, walked through the crowd like I owned it.

"This round's on me, ladies," I said. "Enjoy yourselves."

"What's the occasion, Ms. Shaw?" one woman asked, voice edged in condescension.

I raised my glass. "Freedom. Some of you might want to try it."

Their marriages were crumbling quietly. Mine had exploded. At least I had the courage to walk away from the ashes.

Then Rachel appeared, discreetly holding my phone.

"Ms. Shaw... Mr. Simpson is calling."

Anna's POV I stumbled into what used to be "home," kicking off my heels and collapsing onto the sofa still wrapped in my coat. My head was swimming from the champagne, but I was sober enough to deal with my ex-husband. Jack stood in the kitchen doorway, brows furrowed. "Have you been drinking?" I didn't bother responding. Once, I would have craved that concern in his eyes; now, it just seemed pathetic. Our divorce was final-who was this performance for? "What do you want? Just say it," I said without looking at him, wanting this conversation over with.

I felt his gaze linger on my flawless makeup, and I laughed inwardly. Had he expected to find me wasting away after our divorce, instead of looking more radiant than ever? "There are issues with the joint project between our companies that need your attention..." he said evenly, as if assigning me some routine task. I burst out laughing. "You want me to fix it? Are you fucking insane, Mr. Simpson?" My voice dripped with sarcasm. "Your girlfriend is the project manager. How appropriate would it be to have your ex-wife clean up your mess?" Mentioning it reopened the wound. That project had been secured through countless sleepless nights by me and my team, only for him to hand it over to his new flame with a single word. In that moment, I finally understood that all the love I had poured into our marriage was like water thrown into the ocean-met with nothing in return. "I have no obligation to help," I said coldly, turning to leave. Just then, the door opened and several strangers walked in, followed by a wealthy-looking middle-aged couple. Jack's expression darkened. "Who are you? How do you have keys to my house?" "Oh, I forgot to mention," I smiled slightly. "They're real estate agents. I've listed the house for sale." Jack stared at me, stunned. "Anna, you're selling our marital home?" "What else?" I met his gaze unflinchingly. "We're divorced. Why would I keep this place that only reminds me of all my mistakes?" My tone was light, but inside I was exhausted. This so-called home had housed too many broken hopes and endless waiting. I couldn't bear to stay a moment longer. "The new owners seem nice," I added, nodding toward the couple who were already inspecting the living room with analytical eyes. "I'm sure they'll appreciate all those renovations you never got around to doing." Jack's face reddened. "You can't just-" "I can and I did," I cut him off. I turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Oh, and Jack? About the Phoenix Project? Ask your *darling* Lucy to handle it. " After leaving the house, I instructed Rachel to take me to Golden leaf Manor. I couldn't face returning to Shaw Estate and seeing the disappointed tears in my mother's eyes. The elderly butler welcomed me warmly at the entrance. "Welcome back, Miss Annie." He took my coat, his voice filled with genuine care I hadn't heard in a long time. "I'm exhausted. Have someone come up for a massage," I said as I climbed the stairs, removing my earrings and handing them to Rachel who followed closely behind. "Of course, Ms. Shaw. I'll also have soup sent up," Rachel replied respectfully, accepting the jewelry with both hands. Immersed in the warm bathtub, I felt the tension gradually leave my body. The masseuse's skilled hands were so comfortable that I nearly fell asleep. When her fingers brushed over the intimate marks on my body, there was only a momentary pause-she said nothing. This was exactly why I preferred Goldenleaf Manor-the staff here knew what to notice and what to ignore. "The water temperature is good?" the masseuse asked softly. "Perfect," I murmured, closing my eyes. Rachel entered with a tray soup. "Ms. Shaw, shall I arrange your schedule for tomorrow?" "Clear everything before noon," I said, lifting myself from the bath and wrapping a plush towel around my body. "I need to sleep in." I settling into a plush chair as the masseuse began working on my shoulders. A soft moan escaped my lips as her thumbs dug into a particularly tight knot. Just as I was about to fall asleep, my phone chimed with a notification. [Five-star review?] A message from an unknown number. I tapped my phone screen, mumbling in confusion: "Five-star review?" Suddenly, an image flashed through my mind strong arms, a clean-cut face. "What was his name again? Sean...?" I turned to Rachel. "Sean Smith, Ms. Shaw. You also commented that his name was nice," Rachel reminded me. I narrowed my eyes. "Did I? I don't remember." Last night, Catherine Murphy had taken me to Olympus Club to celebrate my divorce, where they had presented us with a lineup of handsome young men. I chose Sean, reportedly a recent college graduate, clean as if untouched by the world. Later, intoxicated, I spent the night with him. I had no regrets. Jack Simpson had destroyed all my illusions about love and marriage. If that was the case, why not seek pleasure on my own terms? "Rachel," I called out, "contact Sean Smith tomorrow. Tell him I'm interested in retaining his services long-term. Have him undergo a full medical examination, and tell him he must quit smoking."

Anna's POV

I was still in bed when Rachel's voice sliced through the quiet. "Ms. Shaw, your mother requests your immediate presence at home." She paused, her voice carefully neutral. "Mr. Simpson is there."

Just like that, my good mood evaporated.

"Jack?" I sat up, irritation creeping into my voice. "Let me guess he's there to dump his mess on my doorstep?"

"Should I arrange the car?"

"Yes. And Rachel?" I swung my legs over the side of the bed. "Clear my afternoon schedule. I have a feeling this won't be quick."

It infuriated me. When Jack and I were married, he barely visited my mother. Now that we were divorced, he suddenly felt entitled to show up uninvited likely for the sake of his lover, not my family.

The drive to my family estate gave me just enough time to compose myself. No matter what Jack wanted, I was no longer his cleanup crew.

My mother was already waiting in the foyer when I arrived, her expression a familiar blend of worry and fragile hope.

My mother and grandmother both relieved to see me were the backbone of this house, though neither would admit it. With no men left in our family since my grandfather passed shortly after I was born, and my father's death in a car accident when I was eighteen, I had become the one they leaned on. Jack had always known that. He saw my control, mistook my softness around them for weakness. That's why he dared to come here. He thought I'd give in.

I slipped into the slippers the maid handed me, shrugged off my jacket, and took a calming breath.

I didn't even have a chance to speak before Jack stormed toward me, grabbing my arm. His gaze fell on my neck and stopped. His expression twisted.

"What's that on your neck?" His voice dropped, dangerously low.

The faint hickey hadn't faded. A small, purple mark. I had half a mind to flaunt it.

I laughed softly. "Really, Jack? That's what you came here to discuss?"

His grip tightened. "Who was it? Who dared to-"

I yanked my arm free, my smile icy. "Who dared? That's rich coming from you. Do I need to remind you who spent our wedding night between someone else's legs while I sat alone?"

"Anna!" My mother rushed in, ever the peacemaker. "Jack came to visit your grandmother and me. He's a guest in our home."

I counted to ten. "Fine. Then let's get to it. The Phoenix Project, right?"

Jack opened his mouth, hesitated, then gestured vaguely at my neck again. "How could you do this to me?"

"To you?" I raised a brow. "Jack, what exactly do you think I owe you?"

"You better pray I don't find that man. I'll make him regret touching you."

He didn't say another word about the project just stormed out like a spoiled child denied his toy.

After lunch with my mother and grandmother where the housekeeper brought out my favorite soup I started to feel normal again.

"Anna," my mother said gently, setting down her spoon. "Do you... have a new boyfriend?"

I smirked into my wine glass. "Not exactly."

"You and Jack there's really no chance?"

"Elizabeth," my grandmother cut in, "enough. The world is full of men better than that one. Our Anna deserves happiness, not leftovers."

I leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, Grandmother. You always know exactly what to say."

After lunch, I changed and headed to the office. I had a video conference about an investment issue with one of Shaw Corp's subsidiaries. The moment the call started, chaos erupted.

"Ms. Shaw," a manager stammered, "we tried our best to-"

"Clearly your best isn't good enough," I interrupted coolly. "If you can't handle responsibility at this level, resign. I'll ensure you receive six months' severance and the full contractual penalty."

Daniel buzzed in. "Ms. Shaw, the Phoenix Project lead is requesting ten minutes of your time."

"No," I replied without missing a beat. "If it's our fault, heads will roll. If it's theirs, they can clean it up. And if Lucy's incompetence costs us money, Jack can pay every penny."

Later, Rachel reported in. "Ms. Shaw, Sean Smith's medical exam is complete. Shall we prepare Goldenleaf Manor?"

I raised a brow. "So soon?"

"We also heard that news of you 'adopting' Sean has the entire Olympus Club buzzing. They're envious you're young, beautiful, rich, and newly divorced. If Sean falls in love with you, he'll have luxury for life."

I laughed lightly. I didn't take it seriously but a part of me did enjoy how the world whispered when I moved.

"Put him in Rosa Villa," I said. "Goldenleaf is my space. I don't bring outsiders there."

Three days later, fresh off a business trip, I stepped into the shower and my thoughts drifted to Sean. I found myself remembering his mouth, the way he moved, the softness of his voice after.

Impulsively, I drove to the villa.

I found him in the garden, crouched near the flower beds. His frame seemed slim slimmer than I remembered. I tilted my head, doubt creeping in. Was this really the man who had lifted me, held me down, made my body sing?

His wrists were barely thicker than mine.

Could this body really throw me against a wall?