Page 7 of Good Girls Beg

Everyone I could see was wearing a mask. Some looked like Scream. A couple wore Deadpool masks. I even caught sight of one that looked like some kind of pony, and another was a giant taco.

I sensed someone watching me before I noticed a man on the edge of the dance floor, his back against the black-painted brick wall. His dark shirt was unbuttoned almost down to his navel, showing a muscular chest, sprinkling of hair, and a hint of abs. His jeans clung to his thighs like a second skin. Thighs, mind you, that looked like they could break a girl in half.

His mask resembled a skull; intense, almost hollow. His eyes were shadows in the eye holes. He raised his drink to toast me before pressing the straw into the side of his mask and taking a drink.

"Go and talk to him," Lyra said. "If you're going to stare like that, you might as well jump right in." She shooed at me.

"I'm not staring," I said, breaking my gaze.

She snorted. "Yes, you were. That's okay, you know. He looks hot."

"How can you tell?" I asked. "He has a mask on."

She scoffed. ”I can tell from what I can see with my eyeballs. You could ask him to keep the mask on. Maintain the illusion until you get an orgasm.” She slide her tongue across her lips, deliberately salacious.

"You're such a romantic," I said sarcastically.

She grinned. "Who needs romance when you can have orgasms?"

“Huh, you have a point," I admitted. Then, with a sigh, “He’s probably here with someone."

As I finished saying that, two other men pushed through the crowds toward him. One dressed in a dark T-shirt and black jeans. The other in cargo pants and a sleeveless top that hugged his shredded body.

I couldn't tell if what they were saying was friendly or not. The man’s body language was tense, but without seeing his face, I couldn’t be sure. I sensed he was irritated with them.

That was more or less confirmed when he waved them both off and stalked in our direction.

"See? He's coming to you," Lyra said excitedly.

"He's coming to the bar," I said as he shoved his way in a few feet from us.

"Same again," he shouted. The bartender nodded and pulled out a bottle of apple juice from the fridge. He filled a fresh glass and placed it on the bar in front of the masked guy.

"Apple juice?" Lyra mouthed.

I shrugged. I wasn't going to judge the drink choices of a total stranger.

He paid for the juice and stepped away from the bar, straight over to us. To me, because Lyra muttered something about going to the restroom and disappeared through the throng.

“Wait—” I started to say, but she was gone, lost in the crowds.

"Hey." He gave me a nod.

"Hi." I nodded back, grateful for the mask so he couldn’t see me rolling my eyes at myself.

"It's crazy as fuck in here tonight.” He gestured over his shoulder with his spare hand.

"Yeah, it is," I agreed.

We didn't say anything for a minute or two, instead standing and watching people dance. I moved my hips to the music, singing along to the lyrics I knew.

"Do you dance?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he took my empty cup, setting it on the bar, and placed a hand on my lower back to guide me away from the bar.

His hands on my hips, he pulled me against his rock hard body. Froze and took half a step back, leaving room between us.

Tentatively, I placed my hands on his shoulders. Then over them, so my forearms rested on either side of his neck, giving him every chance to pull away if he wanted to.

He didn’t. He leaned in, his nose close to my hair. "You smell incredible," he said, moving his body in time with mine.