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“Why are you here?” He asks me, curious.
“I can’t be sure, but I think you’re also breaking the rules of a masquerade party.”
“Why?” He smirks. “Not who.”
I decide to go for it. I lost my business, and my life is a mess. I may as well have some fun.
“I’m here to have a good time.”
“We’re all here to have a good time.” He finally drops me to the ground, but his hands do not leave my waist.
“I’m here to have a good time.”
There’s a catch in my voice, and I hope he gets it.
He must get it because his smile falters, replaced by an intense, lustful look in his dark eyes that I found so dangerously sexy that I almost ripped my clothes off on the spot. The last action I’ve gotten in a while—nearly a year—is from my vibrator. Poor Jensen.
The music is slowing down, but we are still in each other’s arms. The lights in the hall are dimmer, and I can barely make out his face. I wonder if he can see mine.
“You’re a great dancer,” I say this time.
“I’m not just a great dancer.”
This time, the insinuation is in his voice, and I’m happy to hear it. The party fades into the background. All I can see is him, and he’s all I can smell.
“What else are you good at?”
“Let me show you.”
With that, he lowers his mouth onto mine. I hold onto his arm as he kisses me like he owns me. I taste the coke on his lips, and I give him my tongue. I moan into his mouth as his tongue parts my lips. His hand on my back applies pressure and presses me against him. I feel his hardness between his legs and clench my fingers to keep me from touching his length right there on the dance floor. His kiss is raw, and it almost scares me with how passionate it is.
He pulls back.
I stare at him, unable to breathe. My lips part, but words fail to come out. The mask hides his expression, but I can see the desire in his eyes behind his mask. His dark eyes seem even darker with lust as he stares at me with a potent focus. His crotch still presses against me, and my depths moisten alarmingly fast.
“What else are you good at?” I finally get words out.
It doesn’t take us long to get to his hotel room, kissing and groping along the way. He holds me against the elegant door of his room and kisses me. His hand roams my body, touching me through my light gown and rubbing his hardness against me.
“I can’t control my—”
“I don’t want you to,” I say.
He puts his hand in my hair and grabs a fistful of hair. I moan a sound that shows my mix of pleasure and pain. “I really like your hair.”
The door finally opens, and we move inside amid our frenzied kisses. He pulls away from me and unties his tie. I watch him remove his suit and unbutton his shirt. His tall figure is lean and muscular underneath his shirt. His broad chest has traces of black hair, and his stomach is tight with six-pack abs that almost make me salivate at the thought of running my wet tongue across them. I can see his bulge in his pants.
“Leave the mask,” I instruct, and he indulges me.
Something about the masking of our identities made it all hotter.
He closes the space between us and unzips my gown swiftly. My dress falls to the ground, leaving me in a red brassiere and panties. His mouth finds mine again as he unclips my bra. My naked breasts press against his hot body, and I can feel my nipples tightening.
I lower my hand and finally touch his length through his pants. It is rock-hard. It throbs in my hand, and he groans into my mouth. I don’t stop. I stroke, careful to cover the entire length.
He bends his head to my chest and gives attention to my breasts, covering a nipple with his tongue. My head falls back as I unzip his pants and free him from the confines of his briefs. His hardness sees the light, and I take it in my fingers. I look down at him, his black, wavy hair falling forward as he tongues my nipple.
The sight is too much for me. I need him, and I need him now.
