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I felt the pressure building up inside me and pulled her off my cock by her hair.
Not like this. I had to have her, to own this woman, to make her my Mila.
I pulled her up gently and she leaned into me, our lips meeting once again.
Our kiss grew deeper, my hand traveled down her side, capturing her thigh, raising her leg. Moving between her legs, I pressed the head of my cock to her, gently stroking her, coating me with her juices. Slowly pressing into her, her muscles stretched, welcoming me, I slid easily, pressing deeper. Her legs wrapped around me, my hips met hers, our bodies in perfect rhythm.
“Fuck, you feel so good inside me,” she moaned into my ear, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feel of her. Each stroke bringing us closer together, our bodies entangled in a desperate and hungry dance of passion.
There was something intoxicating about the way she responded to me, the way her muscles tightened around me as I moved within her. The soft moans that slipped from her parted lips were sweet music whispering into my ear, driving me deeper and harder.
The room was filled with the scent of our desire, our bodies slick with sweat and lust. Mila’s hands traveled down my back, gripping my ass and pulling me closer, urging me on.
Only a thin wall and an unlocked door separated us from hundreds of people in the banquet hall, but nothing mattered in this moment. It was only me and her, and she was mine.
My pace quickened and the room echoed with our heavy breaths and quiet moans. I felt the tension build within me, each thrust punctuated by Mila’s soft cries of pleasure.
Her hands moved to my hair, clenching it as another wave of pleasure rolled over her, making her body spasm under me. Her walls tightened around my cock, milking me with every convulsion. It was too much for me to take.
I looked down at her flushed face, her eyes closed tightly in ecstasy, and couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. She was so beautiful in this moment— so utterly lost to pleasure.
“Mila…” I groaned out, the warning clear in my voice. But she only smiled, a devilish gleam in her eyes.
“Come with me…” she breathed out, and that was all it took.
With one final thrust, I surrendered myself to the pleasure coursing through my veins. Heat flooded through me as I emptied myself inside her, our bodies convulsing in simultaneous release.
With a few more deep thrusts, my body released, pleasure surged through me, waves of ecstasy washed over me. My orgasm subsided, my pace slowed, her muscles released their grasp, allowing me to slowly pull out. Collapsing beside her, we caught our breath, she turned to me, smiling, her eyes sparkling. Rolling onto her side, facing me, her hand caressed my cheek, I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close, my lips met hers.
“That was…” she began, but seemed at a loss for words.
“Incredible,” I finished for her with a chuckle, pressing another kiss to her temple.
“Yeah,” she agreed softly, resting her head on my chest. She traced lazy patterns on my chest as we let the moment sink in.
It was divine.
Chapter Nine
Mila
The soft tick of a distant clock growing louder in the room, the realization hit me—the night was slipping through my fingers like sand. The ball would end. The magic would fade. And I would have to return to a life that held no grand ballrooms or billionaire suitors. My breath hitched at the thought, and for a moment, I clung tighter to Cassius, wishing I could stop time itself.
“Give me a moment,” he murmured before slipping into the bathroom.
Alone, I stood in the middle of the opulent room, surrounded by the echoes of our passion. The weight of reality pressed down on me, squeezing my chest until it hurt to breathe. In the quiet, the whispers of my conscience grew louder. This was not my world. I was playing dress-up in someone else’s life.
The click of the bathroom door unlocking jolted me from my reverie. This was it—the gap I needed to make my decision. To stay would be to drown in a fantasy that could never be mine; to leave would be to grasp at whatever threads of dignity I still held.
With trembling hands, I put on my gown and adjusted my mask. My heart ached as I moved toward the door—away from Cassius and what might have been—a symphony of longing and regret playing silently within me.
I glanced back only once before slipping out into the hallway, where shadows danced along the walls like specters of my fleeting dream. The click of the door closing behind me felt final—a punctuation mark at the end of an extraordinary sentence in an otherwise ordinary life.
I fled down corridors lined with gilded mirrors and marble floors—each step carrying me further from that room and closer to reality. The world outside beckoned—a world where I was Mila Johnson, maid at Wintertide Hotel; where responsibility weighed heavier than silk gowns; where family needed me more than masked billionaires ever could.
I wove through clusters of guests, their laughter and conversations now sounding like an incomprehensible buzz as my mind raced with escape plans. I couldn’t afford to be unmasked—not here, not in front of Cassius Portman or any other attendee who might recognize the maid from their hotel. My departure had to be as swift and unnoticed as my entrance had been bold and mysterious.
