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Ten minutes later, as the music flips to a recorded playlist, I slip away from the piano, weaving through the boisterous crowds of randy souls, heading down the hall, scanning for…security? I don’t even know what I’m checking for. Who I’m trying to avoid.
But mostly I don’t want Scarlett to get in trouble for my desires, ones I’ve kept hidden since college a few years ago. Ones I don’t think I’ll be hiding much longer. I shouldn’t act on them. But thatshouldn’tisn’t strong enough to stop me.
Servers scurry by carrying trays, but no one gives me a second glance as I head down the hall. I guess the costume does the trick. Perhaps I’m just Aphrodite gliding toward the library, thankful, oh so thankful, that I’m not heading to the rooftop.
I check the time on my silenced phone in my clutch purse. With my heart beating in my throat, I glance around and behind.Coast is clear. With one final check, then just one more, I reach for the knob of the door, open it, and step into the alcove of a dimly lit room that smells of old books and faraway tales.
Before I can turn into the space, a hand tugs mine.
The man can follow directions. My pulse spikes with excitement.
I spin around, my skin tingling as he locks the door, then pulls me away from it, playing the part as I asked. When we reach a corner, he turns to face me, his back to the books.
It’s sensory overload with him, and I want to savor every detail so I can enjoy this moment, but I want to remember them too so I can write them down later, starting with his scent. It’s smoky and floral but also dangerous. His cologne is like orchids and leather set on fire.
It reminds me of something, but I’m not sure what.
More than half his face is covered, so I can’t tell much more about him when I’m looking at him straight on than what I caught from his profile while on the piano bench. Except what I suspected. He’s not a boy. Silver flecks color his stubble, and some crinkles line the corners of his green eyes, hungry behind the mask. For a flicker of a second, his jawline feels familiar. Like a memory of a memory but there’s no time to place him. Besides, I don’t want to be inmyhead. I want to play a part.
When he threads his fingers through mine, I can feel the heat of his desire. “Is this the lesson you’ve been wanting from me?”
I think I’m going to melt. We only have a few minutes. But we’ll have to make the best of it. “Yes. Before anyone comes home,” I say, dropping my clutch to the wood floor.
His eyes gleam. “You’ve been driving me crazy for months,” he says, building onto our role-play.
“It’s only because you’re so stern with me.”
His hands reach for my face. He’s careful with my mask but nothing else. His fingers grip my chin possessively. “Do you know how hard it is to teach you? To watch you play? To look at your hands when all I want is to put mine all over you?”
I gasp. I want to linger in these roles, but the clock is ticking. “No. How hard is it?”
He tugs my face closer to his, inches away. “Impossible. And I could be in trouble if anyone hears us.”
“Then I better be quiet,” I tease.Make me be quiet.
“Really fucking quiet,” he commands, then drops his lips to my neck, moaning like he’s been dying to kiss me there all night. His murmurs and groans make me wet as he travels up my throat. Then, he kisses me. A fierce, hard kiss like he’s claiming me. I shiver from head to toe as his mouth covers mine, as his hand holds my face, as his arm ropes around my waist.
My mystery man takes my kisses like they’re thirsty gulps of water in the desert and he’s parched for me. His thumb strokes my jawline, then travels to my mouth. He breaks the kiss only to press his thumb between my lips.
I shiver. Then suck.
If I thought his groan was feral before, it had nothing on this new sound. Raw, animalistic. A message that he wants me to suck his cock so badly. He’s easy to read. Easier to please as I wrap my lips tighter, draw him deeper, show him what I’d like to do to him.
“Yes, fucking yes. This mouth has made me crazy all night. From the start of our lesson.”
I lift my chin, then with equal parts thrill and nerve, I ask for what I want. “You should make me be quiet now.”
His smile is filthy, his intent filthier as he covers my mouth with his and tugs the silk of my dress higher and higher, till his hand travels under it, then up my thigh.
A pulse beats between my legs, an ache for him. One he eases when his fingers tease at the waistband of my lace panties. He slides his palm down over the fabric, finding the damp panel.
Make that…soaked.
He moans into my mouth, then wrenches away from me. His voice is deep and raspy with desire as he asks, “Did you wear this lace to torture me?”
“I did. Did it work?”
He grabs my hand, slams it against the outline of his hard-on. Thick, eager. My mouth waters for him. “Yeah, it worked,” he says, then he covers my mouth with his palm.
