PANTY RAID

74| Pink thongs & Hangovers

Groaning, Dayo cracked his eyes open and squinted at the late afternoon sun streaming in through the window. Too bright. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, trying to shut out the harsh sunlight.

A nasty headache was unfolding inside his skull and his mouth felt like dry cotton.

Hissing through his clenched teeth, he lifted his head from the pillow just enough to bring the black and gold wallpaper on the wall across the room into focus.

What the fuck?

Black and gold wallpaper? That was definitely not the color of the wallpaper in his room. Not at his apartment with the boys. Not even at his condo at St. Ives.

Bolting upright, his wide-eyed gaze darted across the room. Judging by the sparse furniture, he was certain he was in a hotel room. But definitely not one he recognized.

The walls were painted a light shade of cream, the floor tiled in the same color. A small reach-in refrigerator stood in the corner, a few feet away from the door.

The room was quiet, except for the soft hum of the flat screen television.

He pulled the white satin sheet back and realized he was naked. Bare-ass naked in a hotel room with no fucking idea how he got there.

Last night was a blur. He searched his memory and couldn't remember anything past driving to Club Deluxe after Novah's little threat.

The last thing he remembered was sitting at the bar downing countless shots of whiskey on the rocks one after the other.

He seemed to recall the bar man waking him up and asking him for the password to his phone but after that, his memory faded. Fuck, he was too hungover for this shit.

He was alone in the room. And yet, the faint scent of vanilla clung to the air around him.

He paused, frowning. Vanilla? That wasn't the smell of his cologne.

Head hammering, he pushed to his feet and stepped on something near the foot of the bed. Something tiny and lacy.

Crouching down, he picked the pink thong from the floor and stared at it in confusion. A thong?

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.

His gaze shot to the tangle of sheets and it was pretty obvious, from the mess, what had happened the past evening.

It hit him like a punch in the stomach, when he realized what he'd done.

Raking his hand through his hair, he glanced at the nightstand and saw a note lying there under the lamp.

He picked it up and read it. It basically said last night was wild — you were insatiable. Keep the panties as a souvenir.

He stared at the name signed on the note in fury. Fuck, the bar man must have dialed her number since it was the last number he'd called.
                        
A flood of memories rushed through his pounding head. Vivid memories of her kissing and undressing him flitted through his mind. And then she'd...

He crushed the piece of paper in his hand and let out a curse.

"Damn you, Novah," he gritted out through clenched teeth.

He felt like an absolute ass. How was he going to face Eniola? He'd just cheated on her!

"Oh fuck," he groaned, fisting his hair in hand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. What have I done?"

He quickly rummaged through the sheets, found his phone laying face down on the bed and picked it up.