Page 51 of His Two Hidden Masks

As we kissed, I felt dizzy as if the room spun around us. We were the only people in the world, as he tongue-fucked my mouth. His lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his cock pressed up against me.

We rode a wave of passion that was impossible and yet so real. Our sexual chemistry and shared pain intertwined. I was the girl who had dared to walk away from a Venetian prince. He was the billionaire fuck-up, the rock star who had lost his music.

Were people like us doomed or brilliant together? I didn’t know, but his hands were on my body, in my hair. His tongue was in my mouth, his teeth softly biting my lip. My throbbing pussy clenched, wishing I were pulling his hard cock inside.

Dylan growled and lifted me as easily if I were a paper doll. My legs wrapped around his waist like a reflex. I moved my hips up and down against him.

“That’s right, baby,” he murmured between kisses. “You take it, fucking take what you want from me. I want you to come.”

My skirt hiked up, my thighs clenched against him, there was nothing between my pussy and his clothes but my thin panties.

“Please,” I begged. “I need you. I need more of you.” I palmed his dick, moving my hand up and down and feeling the bulge and length of him through his pants.

He gripped my wrist. “Not yet, baby,” he murmured. “You’re not ready yet.”

His hand slipped beneath my ass and slid into my wet entrance. “Open for me.” Holding me at his waist, he parted my lips and pushed a finger deep inside me.

I whimpered as he thrust one finger deep inside, and then two. “Ahhh, ahhh.”

“You are so fucking wet. So wet, so tight. Come for me,” he said, his voice direct. He pushed two more fingers inside me. I cried out at the fullness. The sensation of being stretched was so fucking good.

“I want you ready for me, baby,” he said. “I need my woman to come.”

My woman. My God.

I saw stars as I arched my back and cried out, my hands in his hair, my hips bucking against him as an orgasm tore through my body, shattering me in waves. “Oh, oh, oh God, oh God,” I said, shaking and shuddering.

He held me as I came. He rocked against me, slowly moving in time with me until the storm inside me calmed.

His fingers still inside me, I kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip, my body humming and vibrating. He pulled his fingers out of me, and I sighed at his exit.

He held his hand up in the air and licked his fingers. He growled as he tasted me. “Fuck, you are perfect,” he said, his eyes glassy. “Open your mouth.”

I was unable to form words, my mind hazy with pleasure, my vagina throbbing with satisfaction. I nodded and opened my mouth. He slid his fingers into my mouth and I sucked on them, tasting the salt of my come.

“I’m not done with you,” he said, watching me as I sucked. “You are such a good girl, such a good girl, coming for me.”

He pulled his fingers out of my mouth. I hated the sense of loss again, the emptiness of not having him inside some part of my body.

“We only have an hour,” I said, leaning my head against his chest, my breathing ragged and shallow. “I want you to know this is a very special tour.”

He leaned down and kissed me again. This time, his kisses were firm and quick. His lips moved faster and faster, conveying his desire for me, his need. I groaned, fumbling with his belt. I wanted to please him. I wanted him now.

Still holding me in the air, he turned with me in his arms. I looked around the room, looking for a place to fuck. I needed to be fucked.

He moved us toward a display cabinet. “Careful of the glass,” I gasped between kisses.

“Fuck the glass,” he said, biting my lip. I cried out, the spike of pain mixed with the pleasure of his lips and tongue was perfect. He spun in a circle and walked me across the room toward an uncluttered, marble countertop beneath a shelf of Murano vases.

“Careful, careful,” I said as he lowered me onto the marble. Overhead, there was a fortune of art.

“I can buy everything in this place a thousand times over,” he said, glancing up at the shelves. “But I will be oh-so-careful, my beautiful girl.” A wicked grin crossed his face. He stepped away from me and placed his hands on my knees.

His eyes wild and hungry, he spread my knees apart. He whipped up my black skirt up, leaving my ass on the cold marble with only my thin, wet panties between me and the beautiful stone.

“I like these boots.” He ran his fingers over the top of my red suede boots. “They make you look like a dirty girl.”

My head rolled back at his touch. My body still buzzing from the first orgasm, dripping wet, I moaned and arched my hips forward.

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