Serving Mr. Stevens, Part Three: Masquerade -- An Erotic Romance (Part 3 of 5)

by Nathan Stratton

  It’s Mr. Stevens, I thought to myself – at least, I think it is. But could I really be sure? He wasn’t saying anything, and his mask was obscuring his face to the extent that I couldn’t say with certainty if it was him or not. And that sliver of uncertainty was adding a charge of excitement to the air between us. I realized that this was just like him: he was giving me the thrill of an anonymous encounter, while still letting me know that I wasn’t betraying him by doing it. I decided to act as though I didn’t recognize him, playing his game for now and acting the part of a perfect stranger.

  “Hi there,” I said, keeping up the charade. “Did you buy me this drink?” He nodded, silently, in affirmation.

  I took a long, slow, languorous sip of the cocktail, feeling his eyes intently watching the delicate skin of my collarbone as I lifted the glass to my lips. I swallowed, licking my lips and narrowing my eyes at him flirtatiously.

  “Well, then I think I owe you something in return,” I said, and put my hand on his wrist, pushing his hand down over the curves of my body and letting it come to rest just above my hip. I saw the desire burning in his eyes, his brow arching behind his mask. The way he touched me brought back flashes, again, of our embrace on the rooftop earlier that evening. There was no mistaking the sparks now flying between us. I was dead certain it was him now, the man who’d opened up my sexual horizons and taken me places I’d only dreamed of.

  Now it was time for me to show him just how grateful I really was.

  Emboldened by my certainty, I stood up and cupped my hand over his groin, pushing my palm gently into his genitals. He stood motionless, watching my actions, but I felt his hardening cock twitch in response to my touch. I didn’t know who was watching us, and I didn’t care – the anonymity of our masks was just as intoxicating as the liquor I’d consumed. I craned my head up towards him, letting my hot breath fall heavily on the skin of his neck. He lowered his head towards me, giving me access to his ear.

  “Why don’t we get out of here?” I whispered, still rubbing him through his slacks. I was getting incredibly turned on, and I could feel that he was loving it just as much as I was. He still gave no verbal answer; instead, he leaned down and gave me a soft, heated kiss, his lips pushing fervently against mine.

  It was all the answer I needed. Taking a last sip of my cocktail, I set my glass down on the bar as he took my hand and led me away towards a far corner of the room.

  Chapter 6: Beneath the Mask

  He pushed aside a gauzy curtain and we entered the room, set apart from the main hall and bathed in a dull, amber light from a line of sconces around its perimeter under the ceiling. It was about the size of the changing room I’d seen earlier, complete with the full-length mirrors, but with the dimmer lighting its ambience was changed completely.

  Mr. Stevens – or more precisely, the man I knew to be him, but who hadn’t revealed himself to me yet – wasted no time in letting me know his motives. He roughly shoved me into one of the mirrored walls, the light dancing and swaying in its reflection as my impact shook the glass. The way he held my wrists brought echoes in my mind of our first encounter, in the locker room. It had happened only days ago, but so much had passed between us that I felt I was a different person now. I’d been scared then, naïve, totally unprepared for the rough way he’d treated me. But he’d unlocked something within me. I loved exploring my limits with him, dancing on the knife’s edge and seeing the darker side of sex. And once I’d had a taste of it, I knew there was no going back.

  He pushed up the folds of my dress, assertively placing his hand exactly where he wanted it. I felt a quiver of pleasure as he cupped my womanhood in his rough palm. I hadn’t worn anything under my dress, and the sensation of his skin against mine was incredible. He began to slowly rub me, coaxing out my wetness and making my hips contract involuntarily. My nipples hardened in an instant, straining against the fabric of my bra. They begged for stimulation, but in my current state I was powerless to do anything, held as I was against the mirror by his firm, commanding grasp.

  There was no one in here but us, and the curtain hid us from the view of the outer room, but still there was nothing to stop anyone from entering and observing us… or perhaps even joining in. I wasn’t sure how things worked in these places, and that sense of uncertainty only heightened the thrill of our potential discovery. It didn’t quite count as exhibitionism, but it added a charge to our encounter all the same. I looked across to the mirror opposite us, seeing our reflection: a handsome, shirtless stranger, ravaging a helplessly aroused woman against the glass. The eroticism in the image turned me on even more, so that I almost felt the need to shut my eyes against it. But I couldn’t do that. I stood transfixed, watching from this new perspective as he buried his hand between my legs.

  He quickened the intensity of his motions, pressing harder against the firm button of my clit and causing a moan to escape my lips. I was almost overloaded with pleasure, and I needed him to go further. “Fuck me, stranger,” I said, keeping up with our game of anonymity, in a low purr I knew would get him going. He still hadn’t said a word to me, and I craved to hear his voice. I could even hear it in my dreams, that low, sexy growl of his. It never failed to have an effect on me. But for the moment, it seemed he would still deny me this small pleasure – though that’s not to say he didn’t respond to my dirty words.

  No sooner had I spoke them than he’d whipped me around, throwing my hands behind my back and leading me over to a loveseat in a corner of the room. He pushed me roughly onto it, and I let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-moan as he spanked my ass for good measure. My mask had fallen off in the commotion, exposing my face. Without it, I felt strangely naked and vulnerable. Your mask never comes off, Katarina had warned me, her words flashing across my mind in a split-second. It’s the only rule of Masquerade. But Mr. Stevens had a different set of rules for me, and his were the only rules I knew I’d never break. Forgetting the mask, I focused my attention on what Mr. Stevens was doing to me. He hiked up my dress while continuing to hold my wrists, exposing the bare flesh of my backside. My breasts and face were being pushed into the cushion, and my legs and ass were spread out prone behind me. Without warning, he plunged two fingers deep into me, moving them quickly in and out while my body bucked wildly in response to the sudden contrast. He held my wrists even harder as I jerked against him, not allowing me to move an inch. He was sending me a clear message: I was his for the taking, whether I liked it or not.

  But of course he knew I liked it; from the way I was moaning beneath him, there was no mistaking how much I loved what he was doing to me. He upped the intensity even further, as if he were spurred on by the noises I was making. It was too soon to orgasm, and yet the waves of pleasure he was sending through me were growing dangerously intense. “I’m gonna come,” I yelped, more as a warning to him than anything else.

  I thought my words would make him slow down; I didn’t imagine he wanted me to come just yet. But if anything, he only picked up the pace. I almost felt like he was punishing me with pleasure, sending me into throes of ecstasy against my will. I writhed and squirmed beneath him as he focused all his attention on my clit, rubbing me furiously to an orgasm I was fighting desperately to hold off. I was no match for him: I let out a long, protracted moan as the orgasm ripped through me, its intensity matching the rough treatment I was receiving from his hand. He jerked his hand away from me as soon as the orgasm had run its course, leaving me gasping on the couch, my head spinning like a whirlwind. “Holy shit,” I panted, trying to catch my breath.

  But this wasn’t over, far from it. No sooner had I begun to get my bearings than he’d yanked me down off the couch and to my knees, ripping his belt off in a fury and forcefully shoving his rock-hard cock into my mouth. It was clear he wasn’t going to allow me any rest before serving him. No matter; the sight of his cock got me going again in an instant. I took in in eagerly, sucking him down to his pelvic bone. I grabbed the shaft in my hand and began pumping
it, fast and hard, just as he’d done to me. I lowered my head down and gave attention to his balls, running my tongue over them slowly as I continued to pump him with my hand. I was rewarded with the feeling of his balls contracting in response to my touch; looking up at him briefly, I saw his lips parting in a silent moan of pleasure. I loved sucking his cock. It had grown even harder now, letting me know how much I was turning him on. I felt myself getting wet again in response. Licking him slowly, I traveled back up the underside of his shaft, and then bobbed my head down over him and took him as deeply as I could into my mouth. He grabbed a handful of my hair and held on to it tightly, not pushing me onto him so much as guiding my rhythmic motion like the dominant partner in a dance. I upped my rhythm, sucking him harder and feeling him twitch and shiver in my mouth. I couldn’t take it anymore. With my free hand, I began to touch myself, and let out a surprised, heated moan at how good it felt. I was still in a state of heightened sensitivity from the orgasm I’d just had, and it was making every sensation that much more intense. On my own, I usually never had multiple orgasms, but right now I felt it was possible to achieve that fabled feat. He made me hornier than any man I’d ever known, and I didn’t know what my limits were anymore -- and I was dying to explore them even further.

  A groan slipped from his mouth, deep and throaty, letting me know he was getting close. I looked straight up into his eyes, giving him a show and letting him watch my lips bobbing up and down on his hard shaft. The look he gave me was pure, sexual lust, like an animal in heat. I felt him stiffen even further, and he grabbed my hair harder as he prepared for his release. I closed my eyes as he came, rubbing myself as jet after jet of his hot, thick come filled my mouth. It was the catalyst I needed: just as his orgasm was subsiding, another one roared through me, shaking my body to the core as I held on for the ride. I opened my eyes after a few seconds and saw that he was still looking right at me. I returned his steady gaze and swallowed every drop of him, licking my lips with pleasure.

  A long moment passed between us, he still wearing the mask, me on my knees in front of him, and both of us still reeling from the post-coital bliss. A simultaneous orgasm is a beautiful thing. I felt so in tune with this man, so connected; for the first time, I was coming to understand what people meant about two bodies becoming one. He pulled me up to my feet and we stood there, prolonging the moment. He still hadn’t spoken, but no words needed to pass between us just now. Only one word was fitting to describe the look in our eyes. It was passion, plain and simple, in all possible senses of the word. From the moment I’d met him, I’d had the feeling he could read my thoughts; but I was slowly coming to realize that I knew his thoughts as well. As enigmatic as he could be – as controlling, as mysterious – I felt the strength and the depth of his feelings for me, underneath it all. We were as solid as the floor under my feet.

  He kissed me one last time, slowly and tenderly, and I knew he was saying goodbye for now. Taking just a moment to straighten himself up, he slipped out beyond the curtain without a word.

  I stood there for what must have been a few minutes, alone in the mirrored room. I walked over to my mask, still laying on the floor where it had fallen from my face. I picked it up gingerly, walked over to the mirror and put it on, gazing into the suddenly unfamiliar reflection.

  Who are you? I asked myself, looking at my naked body. I felt I could be anyone at that moment. I was no longer Candace, the barista. I was a new woman: confident, desired, and sexually fulfilled, in every way imaginable. It was a strange feeling, powerful and intoxicating. No matter what happened next with Mr. Stevens, he’d already shown me what life could be – and I loved him for it.

  Readjusting my dress as best I could, I parted the curtain and stepped back out to the main hall, my ears and eyes adjusting to the amped-up sound and light in the room. I wasn’t sure where to go from here, what to do now. Another drink, perhaps? With my newfound sense of self, I felt the world was my oyster and the night was young. The possibilities really were endless – I knew that now. But I only had a moment to consider it before Katarina came running up to me from across the room.

  “There you are,” she cried, a frantic look in her eyes. Her mask was loose around her eyes, in danger of falling off her face completely, but it didn’t seem as though she cared. She looked like a mess. I could see a dark smudge of mascara streaking down her cheek. “I’ve been searching all over for you. We need to get out of here, and fast.” Motioning towards the back exit, she took off towards it without another word.

  “What? Why?” I shouted over the music as I hurried to keep up with her quickened pace. “What happened?”

  She stared at me blankly. It felt as though she was looking right through me, like I was a ghost. She had a deer-in-the-headlights expression that was in utter contrast to her normally confident smile. I didn’t like the looks of this. I grabbed her wrist, trying to snap her back to reality. “Katarina,” I said sharply. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  It seemed to do the trick. Coming out of her daze for a moment, she looked at me with terrified intensity.

  “Peter Kearns is dead.”

  --- TO BE CONTINUED ---

  Look for Part 4 of Serving Mr. Stevens,

  “The Price of Pleasure,” in May 2013!

  Author’s Note:

  You’ve just read Part 3 of Serving Mr. Stevens, an erotic romance novel in five parts. This is my first attempt at a full-length erotic novel, and it has been an absolutely incredible journey. I’m hard at work on the final chapters of this book; I hope to have Part 4 ready to go by the end of May 2013, and will publish the final chapter in the early summer. I hope you’ll enjoy continuing the story with me… it’s been a blast so far!

  Lastly, if you have a moment, please consider leaving a review on my Amazon.com page, here. More than anything else, it helps other readers find out about this book, as well as other books they might enjoy.

  Thanks very much for reading.

  Best wishes,

  Nathan

  ===

  If you’d like to volunteer as an early reviewer of “The Price of Pleasure,” please e-mail me for a FREE copy.

  NStheWriter@gmail.com

  ===

  Make sure to pick up Part 1 of Serving Mr. Stevens, “The Contract,”

  and Part 2, “Lover’s Complaint,” if you haven’t already!

  "Fifty Shades has got nothing on this!"

  From the bestselling author of the "All She Wants" series comes a fiery tale about a young barista and a handsome corporate executive...

  Alpha-male billionaire Thomas Stevens is the kind of man who knows exactly what he wants -- and he's got his eye on Candace Baker, a young barista with a weakness for bad boys.

  Candace dreams of being taken by a 'real man,' and it seems like a match made in heaven -- at first. But when things start heating up between them, she has to make a decision. Is she ready to see how far Mr. Stevens wants her to go?

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