“Don’t you dare let me catch you sneaking off to the library,” he warned softly.
She did feel safer among rows of books than people. After her little scene with the stranger, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea: hiding away in the empty library, losing herself in a long novel. Besides, she was sure Randi would be too busy doing his own sneaking to catch her doing anything.
“Of course not, peach.”
“I’m serious, Krista,” he said, wiggling the cake knife at her for emphasis.
“Careful with that thing, Aramis.”
“He always was my favorite, you know.”
She smiled at her devilishly handsome friend. She couldn’t stand to see him disappointed, let alone tell him a lie. “All for one.” She pecked his cheek and scanned the room. “And all for cake, it looks like,” she said with a laugh and gestured to the growing crowd around the table.
As the candles were lit and the cake was cut, Krista found it easier than she’d expected to slip away from Randi and through the horde of hungry merrymakers. Her mind was on anything but cake. How had she allowed herself to be seduced by a stranger?
“Let it go,” she whispered to herself and strolled into the balmy night. She needed some air.
Despite herself, she found her way into the garden. As much as she tried to tell herself to leave it alone, she couldn’t help the desire throbbing through her veins like a drug. She wanted to see him again. She needed to see him… Whoever he was.
The garden was dark, the moon nothing more than a silver sliver in a black sky. Krista followed the cobblestone path, winding her way around bubbling stone fountains and bushes heavy with blooms. She walked deeper into the darkness, but caught no sign of the man. Her heart sank. Maybe he’d left. Maybe he was too embarrassed to walk through the crowd of onlookers just as she had been. She stared up at the grand manor. Had anything so scandalous ever happened in the centuries old house?
Just as she turned to leave, a figure caught her eye. A lone silhouette on a bench in the center of the courtyard, hidden beneath the weeping branches of a massive willow.
Krista’s heart fluttered against her ribs as she dashed toward the bench. It was him! He hadn’t left her. She slowed to a stroll as she drew closer, trying to quiet her nerves.
Left her? What was she thinking? He hadn’t come to the party to see her… had he?
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispered, and his words fell as softly as raindrops against her skin. A precarious smiled danced across his lips, his eyes dark with untold secrets.
He pulled something from his pocket. “I figured you’d come looking for these.”
Krista looked at the tangle of black cloth in his hands and embarrassment burned her cheeks. If she’d known she’d be having a late-night tryst with a mysterious masked man, she would have worn something sexier.
“Who are you?” she asked, because she couldn’t think of anything better to say and because she couldn’t help feeling like she knew this man.
He shook his head, refusing to say anything more. He stood and took her by the hands, directing her to the bench. He eased her onto the cold stone carefully, almost tenderly. She didn’t try to stop him. She didn’t want to stop him.
She needed this, needed him. Wanted him in a way she couldn’t explain. Though his hands were rough without the gloves, his touch was unexpectedly gentle as he moved his long fingers over her skin. He caressed her slowly, cautiously, with more tenderness than she’d ever known.
She found herself breathless as she studied the man behind the mask. There was enough light for her to make out a few details, like the dark brown of his eyes and the gentle swell of his thin lips. He brushed those soft lips against her cheek, but still, the masquerader refused to remove his disguise.
Krista shutter as a shiver of raw pleasure skittered over her skin like snowflakes. He pushed his mask up just enough to expose his mouth, and she reached for it unable to sate her curiosity any longer. He caught her hand in his and shook his head, his pink lips frowning behind the smiling mask.
She looked away, embarrassed, but he caught her face in his hand bringing it perilously close to his mouth. And then his lips were on hers, kissing deeply, passionately. Her lips parted and he took the invitation, slipping is hot velvet tongue into her mouth. He traced his thick fingers down her neck, and his lips followed. His mouth lingered at the hollow of her throat, sucking gently on the throbbing vein resting on her collarbone.
She sucked in a fractured breath. He laughed, cast a glance at her, and she could almost read his thoughts. Dark, lusty, thoughts. He wanted more than a few playful kisses.
So did she…
His hands were warm and surprisingly gentle as he undressed her. Eager fingers moving over her, he worked the fabric away from her skin, with careful movements. She was joyously aware of every sensation, the way his dark eyes sparkled behind his white mask, the musk of his sweat and her desire mingling with the warm night air, the symphony of frogs and cicadas bellowing from the bayou beyond. And the feel of his skin on hers…
She felt the blood leave her head and flow to her abdomen, then lower, making her full and hot… and wet. The heat that started in the pit of her stomach radiated to her clit, and she could fell it swelling with anticipation. The urgency was unexpected and uncontrollable. She had ignored her womanly desires for far too long.
He trailed a string of kisses between her breasts, gently pushing away her bodice as his hands journeyed lower. She’d dreamed of a moment like this, a moment of absolute desire, complete surrender. Her fingers crawled up his neck, searching for something to hold on to. His touch made her ache with a want she’d never known. He circled her nipple with his tongue, then his lips closed around it and he sucked gently. Every second was both agonizing and glorious.
Krista slipped her arms out of the dress and it fell away, leaving her naked and exposed. The stranger sucked in a ragged breath.
“Simply beautiful,” he whispered and traced his fingers down her milky white stomach. Slowly, carefully, he inched down her stomach with his mouth only to linger there before he plucked a long, cream feather from her mask. He traced the soft plume across her nipples, down her stomach, over her clit.
Krista sighed as he took her legs in his hands and draped them on either side of the bench so he could venture lower. She spread her legs further, allowing him to slide a finger inside her wet folds. He curled his finger inside her, sending heat through her body. He slipped another finger in, then cupped her clit with his hand, massaging it with his palm while he fingered her. Desire pulsed in her veins, making her hot, reckless. A moan slipped passed her lips. The sound must have delighted him, because he probed harder, faster, stroking her clit more deliberately. His intentions were unmasked. He wanted to make her come, and she was so close to complying. She trembled as a wave of desire took her.
She ground her hips against his hand, rocking hard against the spasms of orgasm. Her breath left her as she reached climax, but the masquerader didn’t stop. He didn’t want her to catch her breath.
His head dipped between her legs and he flicked the tip of his tongue gently against the hood of her clit. Her legs opened further, inviting more. He explored her with his tongue. His arms slipped around her waist and he pulled her to him. His tongue plunged deeper inside her, pushing her close to the edge again. She clenched the folds of her dress and bit the bottom of her lip hoping to hold on until he was inside her.
“Wait,” she breathed, struggling to speak with the growing throb between her legs. “What about you?”
He lifted his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, revealing a devil’s grin. He slipped a condom from his pocket and waved it in the air teasingly.
“This work?”
Krista barely nodded as he began to undress. He stood up and slid out of his trousers to reveal long, muscular legs. His shirt was off and on the ground at his feet before she even had time to appreciate the beauty in front of her.
Moonlight spilled across his naked body and she took in every silver silhouetted inch. Krista watched, her mouth slightly agape as he ran his thick-fingered hand slowly down his erection, the stroke seeming ever long. He rolled the condom over his cock and she shuddered with anticipation at the thought of trying to take in every swollen inch of him.
“Come here,” he said. She stood drunkenly, intoxicated on her own desires. He picked her up in his arms and laid her gently on the ground. The grass was soft and damp beneath her skin, making the warmth and weight of his body exquisitely welcome as he lay down on top of her.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently, then slid into her. He moved mischievously at first, using the tip of his cock to tease her. Then he thrust inside her, feeling her up, making her whimper. They moved together slowly, their hearts pounding in tandem. He traced the edge of her jaw with his finger and thumb and she trembled beneath him.
Her hand moved down the taut muscles of his back and she brought her legs around him, needing to feel him all around her. He slipped one hand beneath her ass and pushed deeper inside of her. His rhythm picked up speed. She could feel his cock throbbing, aching for release. Her hips arched up to meet his eager thrusts. He growled low and deep, something guttural, dark, primal.
She clawed desperately at his sinew back as he continued to push inside her, each thrust harder, faster than the last. She mewled with pleaser as desire built inside her. She felt him come and her back arched as a shockwave of pure pleasure erupted in her core, ricocheting through her body. He rode her until the last wave of ecstasy faded to a tremor.
He removed his cape and draped it around her, pulling her against his chest. She rested there, trying to catch her breath as the crescendo inside her ebbed. They stayed that way for what felt like hours, his arms around her, her head nestled in the crook of his neck. Krista fought the threat of tears for the second time that night. Not tears of pain, but pure pleasure. Joyous, exalting, mind-numbing release.
Who was this man that held her so gently, made love to her so passionately?
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, breaking her thoughts. She tilted her head up to look at him.
“Who are you?” she said into the darkness that surrounded them like a black blanket. She didn’t know why she bothered to whisper. The garden was empty. They were alone.
“You don’t know?” he asked, his voice as thick as the warm June air.
Slowly he removed his volto mask and Krista took in his face one handsome feature at a time. Eyes fathomless and dark, lips thin, soft, and pink, square unshaven jaw. Her heart squeezed in her chest.
“You?”
He blushed and cleared his throat, looking everywhere but in her eyes. “Were you hoping for someone else?” he asked, and his voice trembled.
Krista shook her head. “No… I just… Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m shy,” he said, staring into the night. “I couldn’t bring myself to speak to you. Let alone do this,” he waved his hand as if swatting away a mosquito. “You’re so… amazing.”
She gave him a hard, disbelieving look. The Britain Bentley she knew was anything but shy. A playboy, a flirt, yes. But shy? She never in a million years would have guessed.
He held his hands up, a gesture of pure innocence. “It’s true. Painfully true.”
“You seem so easygoing. You’re so…”
“Social?”
“Yes,” Krista agreed.
“I put on a good show, but honestly it’s a struggle. I feel like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.” He shrugged. “But… I guess that’s the price you pay for being awkward and introverted.”
Krista smiled and pecked his cheek. “Lucky for me he’s not.” She rubbed her hand against his cock and Britain groaned, growing stiff again in her hand.
Britain Bentley placed his hand over Krista’s, helping her work it up and down his growing erection. He smiled. “I guess we both got lucky tonight.”
Midnight at the Masquerade Page 2
