Page 57 of Casanova LLC

“Can’t you just do it?” There was a distinctly needy, perhaps whiny, quality to my voice. Which I’m sure wasn’t the change he’d meant.

He disappeared into the bathroom. “You’ll want to be able to do it yourself.”

“Why?”

“So you own it.” He reappeared. “Then you can have it with someone else if you want to, because it’s yours to share.” He nodded toward the bed. “Sit. On the edge.”

Heart pounding, I turned. Walked to the platform, up the step, turned back around, and sat.

“Rest your feet on the bedframe.”

I lifted them about eighteen inches off the step, found what he meant, and set them there.

He took a moment to look at me.

He came forward. Set his drink on the mattress, far enough away to be secure. Then he lifted his hand and I realized he was holding my mask. That he’d retrieved it from the bathroom. He retied it around my head. “I think this is going to help. But it’s up to you. Take it off whenever you want.”

He stepped back and I looked at him through the mask and sure enough, my heart settled. The small barrier was helpful. Sexy. How did he know?

He put a hand on each of my knees and slowly pressed them apart. My feet slid along the steel rail, and my legs widened. His thumbs ran idly over the lace tops of my stockings. Then he eased the hem of my dress back a few inches, exposing my naked upper thighs. His eyes never left mine. As if the effect of his actions was more relevant than the action itself. He leaned forward and kissed me. Softly. Used his lips to tease mine slowly open. He edged closer, nudging me back to my elbows. Then he straightened and plucked the glass I’d forgotten I was holding from my hand.

“One more sip?” Instead of handing it to me, he tipped it to my mouth. When I was done, he reached past my body and picked up his glass. “Now.” He stepped off the platform. “I’m going to get a little more comfortable.” He set our drinks on a table. “While you show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone.”

I almost retorted, I don’t. But I knew that was precisely why we were doing this.

He toed off his shoes. He untied his cape. Removed it.

Then he picked up his own mask and put it back on. He was giving me a level playing field. “Whenever you’re ready, Claire.”

I felt hypnotized. I just kept staring at him. “I should take off my underwear. Should I take off my underwear?”

“Do you want to?”

Right. Do what I want. “No. Not yet.”

He began unbuttoning the brocade waistcoat. “I, on the other hand, can’t wait to take this off.” He did, now standing in only the breeches and bastion shirt, his masked eyes landing right back between my thighs. That mask did to his eyes what a frame did to a painting, giving them definition. Making it impossible to look away.

For the first time in a decade, I couldn’t wait to touch myself. I took a calming breath and ran a finger gently down the center of my black panties. Then back up. I found the outline of an already swollen nub and tapped it. My breath hitched.

I made little circles and his eyes followed while he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Why don’t you try?—”

But I was already slipping my hand under the waistband. My finger going directly to the spot, and the sound that came from me lured him toward the bed, right up to the platform. Our eyes met through the masks and my brain went he’s looking in your eyes while you touch yourself and I gasped again.

But within seconds, even though this was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to me, my body just…shut down. The sharp sparks of pleasure dampened. I might as well have been touching myself through a memory foam mattress while wearing ski gloves. As far as I could tell, I didn’t give any outward sign of this. My finger didn’t slow, my breathing didn’t change, there wasn’t a frustrated sigh, but he seemed to know the instant it happened anyway.

“Where’d you go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is this what usually happens?”

“I usually don’t even get this far. That I did, is all you.”

“No, it’s all you. Are you thinking?”

I realized, with a shock, that I hadn’t been. I had been singularly focused on watching the hottest man on the planet watch me. “No.”

He held out a hand. “I understand now.”

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