Even through the fog of lust that’s swiftly descending, my heart gives an awkward pitter-patter. I’m not famous, but if he follows celebrity gossip, he might have seen me. Something tells me this guy doesn’t spend his lunch breaks reading theDaily Mail Online.
“I like anonymity, that’s all.” He makes no comment, continuing his attentions to my neck, so I add, “Anonymous sex, specifically.”
He steps back, slowly lowering my leg to the floor. A sinking sensation sweeps through me. Is he not into anonymity? Is he going to be a stickler for the mask removal?Please don’t let him walk away.
Just as I’m wondering what I did wrong, he reaches for his mask and takes it off.
My heart comes to a screeching halt.Fuck me. This man is not just good-looking, he’s movie star handsome. Absolutely drop-your-panties-gorgeous. Defined cheekbones, straight nose, and eyes that are dark yet bright, like a starry sky. I reel like he’s struck me in the face with his offensively perfect bone structure. I knew that jaw was good, but this…fuck me.
Literally, with any luck.
“Wow,” I mutter, and he arches an eyebrow, so I stammer, “You’re really—” I’m about to sayhot, but also old—he has fine lines around his eyes and a ruggedness that can only belong toa man north of thirty-five—but I catch the words just as they’re about to trip off my tongue and finish with, “Handsome.”
His expression barely flickers at the compliment. “Your turn,” he murmurs, tucking his mask into his pocket.
“No.”
His eyebrow lifts again. “You’re going to keep it on all night?”
“Yes.” Normally, I would share nothing more, but the intensity of his expression and the gravity of his tone have a full answer spilling out. “I came here tonight because I had a really shitty day, and I want to get laid. I want someone to fuck me so hard I can’t think anymore. I want to come so hard I’m seeing stars. I want toachetomorrow. I want every step I take to remind me what a great night I had, and that sometimes life isn’t a great big pile of steaming crap. Just for tonight, I want to let loose. I want to forget. I want to escape.” He frowns, and I know he wasn’t expecting me to unload on him like that. “Can you let me do that?”
“Yes,” he agrees without hesitation.
Relief softens my body. “Good. But I won’t take off the mask.”
Another slow nod. “Unless I come on your face.”
“Exactly.”
He fists a hand and presses it to his lips, not breaking eye contact for a second. “Tell me your name, at least.”
Why is he so hung up on this?Normally, men are happy with the no-strings, no-names sex option. It’s the whole point of the masquerade night. “Knowing won’t make the sex better.”
“It might.”
I reach for him, sliding my fingers into the waistband of his trousers, tugging him closer. He yields easily, engulfing me once more in his warmth. Hopefully, his lack of resistance signifies that the name thing isn’t a deal-breaker. “It won’t. And I don’t want to know yours either. We don’t need to know anythingabout each other. For one night, nothing outside of these walls matters.”
“It matters if it drove you here.”
Something around my heart twinges. “It doesn’t matterto you.”
He appears to contemplate this, then nods in acceptance of my boundaries. I’m sure he has his own too.
He leans in, brushing his lips over the shell of my ear. “When I make you come so hard you shatter on my cock, whose name are you going to scream if you don’t know mine?”
I gasp, a ripple of heat coursing through me. This man knows exactly what he’s doing. “No names,” I confirm.
His lids flutter shut, jaw clenching like he’s holding onto the final thread of restraint. The shared silence, broken only by the music pulsing from the speakers inset into the ceiling and the occasional intrusive groan of nearby lovemaking, feels heavy with unspoken words. I can sense his resistance. For whatever reason, he’s torn. I’m a sure thing—he knows I’d spread my legs for him—and he’s still not convinced. It makes me feel like I need to try harder. Bemore. Be… whatever it is he’s actually looking for, because it’s clearly not a nameless twenty-one-year-old in a short skirt and pair of high heels who’ll suck his dick in the dimly lit corner of an exclusive sex club.
Or maybe I’mexactlywhat he’s looking for, and he’s not ready to accept it.
He splays his hand on the column behind me, lowering his forehead to rest against mine. “How old are you?”
Ah. So that’s what’s bothering him. I give him my confrontational back-chat voice, while simultaneously sliding my hand over his dick, which is rock solid and huge. “Old enough to legally drink, drive, and fuck.” Removing my hand from his dick, I press it against his chest instead, feeling the hard muscle of his pecs beneath it. I run my thumb over his nippleand his breathing hitches in response. “Young enough not to need Botox.” Our faces are so close our noses touch. “Also, it’s none of your fucking business.”
“Okay.” He exhales, fanning warm breath all over my face, our lips dancing on the edge of another kiss. If I cared, I’d ask him how old he is, but I’ll never see him again, so it’s irrelevant. “If I walk away, are you going to have sex with someone else?”
“Yes.” I flick my tongue over his upper lip. “Maybe I’ll find your friend. He seemed interested.”
