The Proposal

by R. R. Banks

  He steps closer to me, barely three feet away, and my body reacts to his approach. My pulse is racing, my heart stuttering like I'm having palpitations, and I feel lightheaded. There is a yearning within me, my body already crying out for release.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk, darlin',” he says, his voice a deep, rumbling growl. “You know what they say about assumptions,” he says.

  My throat is dry and when I open my mouth to speak, no words come out. I give myself a mental kick in the butt and try to calm down. My cheeks are burning and I'm suddenly glad for the masks since I'm sure they're a shade of red not normally found in nature.

  I can't let him see the effect he's having on me. That will only give him power over me – well, more power, anyway. I know I need to rein it in. I clear my throat and look at him, trying to figure out who is the man beneath the mask.

  “Well, then,” I reply, my tone flirtatious, “if you don't want me to know who you are, I guess there's not much left to talk about.”

  I trail my finger along a chest that's strong and toned beneath that tuxedo jacket as I slip around him and out the kitchen door. I make my way through the smaller of the dining rooms on the ground floor and glance back over my shoulder to see him emerging from the kitchen, that enigmatic smile still on his face.

  I weave around people in one of the sitting rooms and stop behind a table with a sparkling cider fountain. I casually pour myself a cup as the masked stranger stops on the other side of the table from me. Taking a drink, I grimace a bit as the liquid leaves a trail of fire down my throat. Yeah, somebody spiked it. But, that doesn't stop me from downing a second quickly.

  “Drinks not to your liking?” the man asks.

  “Who are you?” I respond, a flirty smile back on my lips.

  I know that I shouldn't be encouraging this. I probably should have him escorted out – or demanded to know who he is. I don't know what he wants from me. And the fact that he's spent the whole evening following me, watching me from afar, should be raising all sorts of red flags in my head.

  For some reason though, I do none of those things. The red flags aren't waving in my head, and I don't feel threatened in the least. In fact, the only thing I do feel – is intrigued. Well intrigued and aroused, if I'm being honest.

  He taps the mask on his face. “I thought we already covered that question, darlin'.”

  That Southern drawl drips from his lips like the richest Georgia honey, every syllable sending a shiver of pleasure rippling across my skin. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, trying to gain control of myself.

  I don't know why this man – this stranger – is having such a profound effect on me, but I need to keep myself under control. Still, I can't deny that being near him is only stoking the fires within me even higher. Making them burn hotter. And filling me with a sense of longing. Of desire. A powerful sense of need.

  “You never answered the question,” I say.

  He shrugs. “I answered it,” he says. “It’s not my fault you didn't like my answer.”

  The buzz of conversation is as loud as it is constant. I guess that's what happens when you pack two hundred and fifty teenagers into a house. I down the rest of my drink and leave the cup on the table. I start to feel a little lightheaded but manage to keep myself from swaying.

  I'm not really a drinker – unlike most of my friends – so, it usually doesn't take much for me to feel it. I'm pretty good at hiding it though.

  “I know you, don't I?” I ask.

  He shrugs again. “Perhaps you do.”

  I rack my brain, trying to think. There's something about him that seems so familiar to me. Something about the way he looks and about the sound of his voice. I just can't place it.

  “Well, like I said before,” I reply, “I don't talk to strangers, so I guess there's not much left to discuss.”

  I turn and walk out of the room and make my way towards the door to the backyard gardens. My cheeks are flushed, my head is spinning, and I need some air. I have no idea what they spiked the sparkling cider with, but it was strong.

  The sound of music and the incessant buzz of conversation fades behind me as I walk across the back deck, past the pool, and onto the garden path. The night air still carries a touch of the heat from the afternoon, as summer exhales its final breaths, but it's pleasant. The moon hangs high overhead, casting the world around me in a silvery light as I walk past the fountain and the tall flowering shrubs that line the walkways. I inhale deeply, savoring the scent of honeysuckle, jasmine, and a hundred other flowers that live in our gardens.

  My head is starting to clear by the time I make it to the gazebo in the center of the gardens. The house is about a hundred yards behind me and the sounds of the party have all but faded away. I sit down on the bench, basking in the soft, dim glow of the lights in the gazebo, relishing the feel of the air upon my skin.

  “I've been following you because I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”

  His voice startles me, and I sit up abruptly, adrenaline flooding my body. I hadn't heard him walk up. I had no idea that he was standing there, leaning against the doorway of the gazebo, until he'd spoken. The man moved so quietly, he could have been a ghost.

  “Sorry,” he says. “Didn't mean to startle you.”

  A small smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth. He's not sorry. He knows exactly what he is doing.

  “Very smooth line,” I say. “How can you tell I'm beautiful when I'm wearing a mask?”

  “Perhaps, this isn't the first time I've seen you,” he says, the rumble of his voice sending goosebumps along my skin. “Bree Longstreet, the sweetest, most perfect Georgia peach to ever grace our state. Full of virtue and purity, from what I hear.”

  “Well, I guess you have me all figured out then, don't you?”

  “I didn't say that,” he says, that inscrutable smile upon his lips once more. “Only that this may not be the first time I've seen you.”

  “Well, you obviously don't know me very well,” I say, shocked at the flirty tilt in my reply. “I'm not the bastion of virtue and purity you seem to think I am.”

  His eyes glitter mischievously. Dangerously. He looks at me with a raw, animalistic lust that makes my heart stutter in my breast. I lick my suddenly dry lips and swallow hard, my throat feeling parched. I've never been looked at the way this man is looking at me, and the intensity of his gaze burns a hole right through me. Not to mention the fact that my panties are getting soaked.

  “Oh, really now?” he whispers.

  I stammer and clear my throat. “Not that I'm a whore or anything,” I reply. “I'm just not the angel people seem to think I am.”

  “Of course not.”

  There's a long moment of silence between us – a silence so thick with tension and expectation, I feel like I’m choking on it.

  “Who did you come with?” I ask.

  “I didn't come with anybody.”

  I give him a small smile, doing my best to keep my racing heart under control. I cut a glance at the house and see that there isn't anybody on the back deck or in the gardens. It's just me and the mysterious stranger. I have to admit, being this close to him is a little bit scary, but definitely a lot more exciting.

  “You had to have come with somebody,” I say. “This party is invitation only.”

  “I'm resourceful,” he says. “I don't let little things like that stop me from getting what I want.”

  “And what is it you want?”

  “You.”

  One words is all it takes. That one simple word sends a bolt of electricity shooting through me. It sets fire to my insides and I hear the breath catch in my throat. He looks at me from behind his mask, those icy blue eyes seeming to strip away every part of me. Exposing me. Revealing me. There's a look of hunger – of absolute desire – in his eyes that makes me quiver, that makes my cheeks blush hotter than I've ever felt them burn before.

  He steps further into the gazebo, his eyes glued to me as
I stand up and take a step back from him, fear and desire stirring within me simultaneously. I don't know this man. He's a stranger to me. I should be going back to the house - to the safety of the party and all my friends.

  I shouldn't want him.

  But, I do.

  He steps closer and I take another step back, bumping into the low wall that encloses the gazebo. He stands between me and the doorway. My only way out is past him. I lick my lips, my mouth as dry as the desert, and my heart hammering within me so hard, I fear it might burst.

  I should go.

  I don't want to.

  “T – take off your mask,” I say, butterfly wings of fear and excitement battering my stomach. “I – I want to see you.”

  He shakes his head, that enigmatic smile on his face deepening. He's standing a foot away from me now as I stand rooted to my spot, staring back into those eyes. As if he's moving in slow motion, I watch him reach out, the back of his knuckles grazing my cheek. I shudder at the gentle touch.

  The man steps forward, pressing his body against me. I watch and do nothing as he leans down, pressing his lips to mine. Shocked and scared, I stand stiff and unmoving at first. But, my body, acting of its own volition, parts my lips and I feel his tongue slide into my mouth. It sends another electric jolt through my body and I kiss him back. Our tongues swirl and dance within our mouths and the heat building inside of me is like an inferno.

  I pull back and look him in the eyes. I reach for his mask and he draws back, taking my hand in his. He shakes his head and flashes me a roguish smile.

  “Let's preserve the mystery,” he says.

  “I want to see you,” I say, my voice nearly breathless.

  “I want a lot of things,” he says. “Doesn't mean I always get them.”

  Without waiting for me to respond, he leans forward and kisses me again. I grind my body against his, feeling the long, hard, thickness of his cock pressing against me. As he plants a line of kisses down my neck to my chest, I lean my head back, close my eyes, and let out a soft moan.

  This is crazy. Insane. I'm not like this. I'm no angel, but I'm not this kind of girl. I don't know this man and yet, there's something about him that draws me to him. Compels me. That makes me want him unlike anything I've ever wanted before in my life. It's scary. Exciting. And dangerous.

  I pull back again. “W – we should stop,” I say, my voice trembling. “W – we shouldn't.”

  My gown has a high slit up the thigh and he slips his hand beneath it, sliding his fingers between my thighs. I bite my bottom lip and groan softly as he strokes me through my panties. I know he can feel how hot and wet I am. He gives me that self-satisfied grin again and runs his fingertips up and down, pressing against the warm, wet center of me. I know I should stop, but my body is crying out, begging me not to.

  “You know you want to,” he says, his voice thicker than molasses and sweeter than honey.

  I draw a long, shuddering breath. “I want a lot of things too. Doesn't mean I always get them either.”

  I throw his words back in his face, desperately trying to maintain some sense of order and control of the situation. This is quickly getting out of hand, and I know that if I don't do something soon, it's going to be too late for me to do anything at all.

  He flashes me a cocky little smirk as he withdraws his hand and licks his fingertips, seeming to relish the taste of me. The mere sight of that stokes the flames burning inside of me even higher. Reason, logic, and common sense seem to flee my mind and body, and suddenly, I'm nothing more than a live wire. An exposed nerve of carnal need and desire.

  Before I’m even aware that I’ve moved my hand, I'm rubbing his stiff cock through the pants of his tuxedo. I grip and stroke it through his pants, marveling at the length and girth of it. This mystery man, whoever he might be, is incredibly well-endowed. He looks at me with a gaze filled with the purest, most raw desire I've ever seen in another person.

  Unlike the high school boys I'm used to, who are all fumbling hands and clumsy gestures, this man doesn't just want to grope and fuck me. He wants to devour me. I can see it in his eyes.

  Realizing what I'm doing, I feel my cheeks flush and pull my hand away, a small gasp escaping from my throat. I give myself another mental kick. I shouldn't be doing this. I really shouldn’t.

  “I – I can't,” I say, my voice low and husky.

  He steps to the side and gestures toward the doorway in the gazebo. “Then go,” he says. “I'm not stopping you.”

  I take a hesitant step forward, my brain telling me to run away, to not look back. My body has other plans though. I turn and grab him by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him to me. Our kiss is filled with a fire and passion I've never felt, and my body trembles as he slides his fingers up and down my back.

  He cups my ass and pulls me to him, grinding his rigid cock against me. I slide my hand down his body, relishing the feel of his hard, toned torso beneath my fingertips. Grabbing his cock through his pants, I squeeze it hard and he lets out a low grunt.

  I reach up in another attempt to take his mask off, but he grabs my hand and shakes his head. He pushes me back, pressing me against the low wall of the gazebo once more. I'm stroking him through his pants and getting more turned on by the second.

  He slides his hand back under my dress and pushes my panties to the side. As he plants kisses upon my mouth and neck, sliding his tongue down to my cleavage, he slips two fingers inside of me. I'm so slick with juices, that his fingers enter me without a problem. And when he starts to move them, in and out, my body explodes in sensation.

  I bite back a cry, not wanting my voice to ring out throughout the back lawn. I know we're alone out here, but there's no sense in taking chances. The man bangs me hard and fast, driving his fingers into me again and again. My body is on fire, awash in sensation, as he buries his fingers into me.

  Looking up, I find his cool blue eyes watching me, burning brightly with desire. I feel the pressure building low within me. He must know how close I am, because he pushes his fingers into me even harder. Faster. Deeper.

  “Yes,” I cry out, unable to hold it back. “Yes, yes, fuck yes.”

  My body is shaking and there is an explosion of bright light behind my eyes as my orgasm crashes down over me. I draw in a stuttering breath and let it out again, my entire body shaking as wave after wave of sensation ripples through my body.

  He withdraws his fingers again and I see them glistening with my juices in the dim lighting. My breath catches in my throat as I watch him lick his fingers clean again. Slowly, my breathing calms and my heart slows down, but the desire in me is more intense than ever.

  He gives me that trademark smirk again and it sets my heart beating harder once more. There's something about this whole thing that's so surreal and yet, so intense. The fact that we're still wearing our masks, that I don't know who he is – it's so fucking electrifying and sensual to me. So fucking erotic. And I can't control myself.

  I reach down and grab his cock through his pants. “I need to feel you inside of me.”

  He shakes his head and slips my mask off, tracing a fingertip along my cheek. A shudder passes through me as he sets my mask gently on the bench beside us. His gaze burns into me, searing my very soul. He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes seeming to drink in my every feature now that my mask is off. His eyes glitter and sparkle behind his mask, the heat of his lust coming off him in waves. Heat that I can feel passing through every part of me.

  I reach for his mask, desperate to see him, but the man puts his hands on my shoulders and gently pushes me down. I know exactly what he wants. Hiking my gown up a bit, I get down on my knees and reach for him. As I unbutton his pants and slide his zipper down, I can see his eyes glistening behind that mask. The look of pure desire on his face makes me even wetter than I already am. I'm now dripping wet and can feel my juices running down the insides of my thighs.

  I slide his pants down to his hips and pull his cock out from his boxe
rs. I grip it firmly at the base, eliciting a soft moan from him. I move my hand up and down his stiff rod, stroking him. Leaning forward, I run the tip of my tongue around the head of his cock, taking the tip between my lips and tasting his pre-cum.

  Sliding my mouth over his rod, I take as much of him as I can. I grip the rest of his hard shaft with my hand and start working my mouth and hand in unison. Honestly, I haven't given head that many times in my life and am mostly copying what I've seen in the small amount of porn I've watched online. Given the way he's moaning, though, I'm pretty sure he's enjoying this – enjoying me sucking on his cock.

  I hear his breathing grow a little ragged and his body stiffen. I grip him tighter and suck him harder, knowing he's close to bursting. With a gasp, he pulls back, and his cock falls out of my mouth. He reaches down and pulls me roughly to my feet. Kissing me hard, he turns me around, bending me over the railing of the gazebo.

  I hear the sound of a package being torn open and look back to see him rolling a condom down the length of his cock. It's then I have the first flutter of worry, not knowing if I can take something so large inside of me.

  I don't have to wonder long though. The man pushes my gown up over my hips and roughly yanks my panties down to the middle of my thighs. Stepping forward, he grabs hold of one shoulder and then places his cock inside of me. The sensation of him spreading me open so suddenly sends a sharp spike of pain shooting through me. I cry out and grimace.

  The pain is quickly overwhelmed by a rush of pleasure so intense, it nearly brings tears to my eyes. The man starts pumping his hips, driving his cock into me hard and fast. Every thrust of his stiff shaft inside of me brings a slight twinge of pain that makes the flood of pleasure that much more vivid. That much more intense.

  The sound of flesh meeting flesh rings out in the night air, and I let out a yelp of surprise when he smacks my ass hard enough to make my flesh sting. I've never been spanked before, but I have to admit that slight sting of pain is intense and makes the pleasure that much better.

  “Talk dirty to me,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. “I want to hear you.”