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I practically leap out of my skin at the intrusion of the rich, husky voice coming from behind me. My entire body ignites as soon as I take him in. A tall, broad-shouldered man stands just a foot away, dressed in an all-black suit that molds to his muscles perfectly. He appears to be just as taken by the rows of masks as I was a second ago until I got distracted. His black hair cropped short on the sides yet left longer on top, artfully tousled and draping down slightly over the edge of his stunning, matte black mask. The mask veils half his face, while the other side elegantly covers down past his cheek. My attention is stolen by his sharp jaw and full lips. From what I can tell, his eyes are a dark brown, and even in this dim, red lighting, he’s striking.
Definitely my type.
Turning around to face the display of masks, I take a deliberate breath, urging my racing heart to calm the fuck down before I finally speak.
“They’re remarkable, aren’t they?”
“Do you know what they’re used for?” His deep voice makes me tingle in all the right places.
Sipping on more liquid courage, I take a second and think of how to answer his question without sounding like a complete thirsty idiot.
“I think I have an idea. One that doesn’t involve trick-or-treating.”
Stepping closer, his arm brushes my shoulder as I take in the heady scent of his cologne.
He chuckles. “You don’t strike me as the type of woman who would know what those activities might include.”
A little judgmental of him to assume I’m green. He’s not wrong, though.
“And how would you know that?”
His eyes lock directly onto mine, almost causing me to lose my balance. They’re a different shade of brown, one I’ve never seen before. But then again, maybe it’s the red lighting in the room.
Fuck, he’s hot. Too hot.
There is something about him that’s giving me déjà vu. Have I met this man before? It’s possible but unlikely. I don’t know anyone who is adventurous enough for this lifestyle.
He quirks a brow at me, a soft smile dancing on his lips. “You reek of innocence. Do you know what primal play entails?”
Raising my glass to my lips, I finish the last of my drink and swallow hard. This guy thinks he knows me, and I’m about to prove him wrong.
“Primal play is a form of consensual role-playing that explores our primitive instincts, our raw and unfiltered needs. It forces willing participants to tap into their animalistic side. Sometimes, it might involve a chase in the woods, slipping into the roles of predator and prey. There might be biting, wrestling, clawing, growling, and other forms of physical contact to help tap into that untouched side. It can be intense and often requires a lot of trust, since we’re going based off of our inhibitions and acting on instinct.”
He looks surprised, but that also wins me a smirk. “Impressive. You’ve done your research.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What makes you think I’m not speaking based on experience?”
He leans in close to my ear, his lips barely grazing my skin. “Because if you had any, you wouldn’t have traced the mask with your fingertips like that as goose bumps broke out all over your bare skin, biting your lip like you were imagining what it would feel like for someone to rip that pretty dress in half.”
Holy shit, I’m on fire.
I stare at him with my mouth open, catching the slow crawl of his eyes as they land on my lips. Deliberately, I lick my bottom lip and watch his gaze harden before he withdraws, his body straightening as if he’s forcing himself to create some distance between us.
Interesting reaction.
I extend my hand out to him. “I’m Parv…short for Parvaneh.”
It took me some time to come up with the perfect fake name for tonight. Every article I researched suggested having one when you attend your first BDSM event, especially if you decide to be in disguise. Parvaneh is a girl’s name, which originates from Persia and directly translates to butterfly in English. And since I’ve been obsessed with butterflies since I can remember, it was a no-brainer.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome stares down at my hand for a second too long before finally shaking it.
“What a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.”
“What does it mean?” His thumb starts lazily moving on the back of my hand, sending curls of fresh desire up my arm.
“Your name first,” I croak.
