Page 88 of His Two Hidden Masks

He exploded with me, a throbbing pulse, beating deep inside me. He joined in my pleasure. Dylan held me in his arms as we shattered together. Aftershocks rippled through me, my body still pressed up against the wall.

Dylan slowly lowered me to the ground. I was unsteady on my feet. He slipped an arm around my waist to keep me from falling.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, my cheeks, and my lips. “Bella,” he said. “I need another night with you.”

Our hands intertwined. I looked up, my heart reaching for him. He wanted another night. I wanted all of them. “I do, too.” I brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. He grasped my hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

“To another night in Venice,” he said, his lips still pressed against my hand.

As I looked into his beautiful, brown eyes, alarm bells rang inside me. This was about sex in Venice. Once he left Venice, it was over. My heartbeat sounded a warning.

The tender touch of his lips against mine, the way he gently brushed the hair off my face, none of these moments were just sex. It felt like more. Was it more?

Were we fucking, or making love? What if it was both. I felt more than lust in his touch.

I didn’t know what it all meant, but I knew that the deeper my feelings, the harder it was going to be for me when he said goodbye. I feared the pain, but I couldn’t say no to the pleasure.

“Another night in Venice,” I repeated. This gorgeous man was more than an addiction. He felt like the air I needed to breathe.

19

Tourists in costumes and masks crowded Campo Polo. Everyone looked like they were headed to a Royal Court, a Faerie Ball, or a sex party.

I understood why tourists flocked to Venice to experience the extraordinary. Our city was a marvel, a series of interconnected islands linked together by bridges and best explored on foot or by gondola.

People came here to get lost in our magical city and to find their authentic selves. They donned masks and costumes and joined in a magical performance. There was no other place like it in the world.

As I soaked in the beauty of people painting their bodies, wearing crowns, and donning wings, I imagined, that I, too, was molting and changing. My dreams were not dying; they were evolving into something else.

Dylan and I blended in with the crowds as we walked hand-in-hand across the square, our faces hidden behind golden masks. With only days before the ball at Doge's Palace, the beautiful chaos of Carnival would exist twenty-four hours a day until the festival ended.

I had sent Leo a text that I was leaving the club, so he didn’t think I was abducted. I was glad Odessa and Shea were with him tonight.

The crowds laughed and danced in the square and spilled into the courtyard and lobby of the Mia Sorella. Dylan and I walked through the front doors, past the front desk, up the marble staircase, and reached the door to the Lover’s Suite.

Dylan opened the door. Only days had passed since our first night together in this room, but it felt like months. We both told lies the night we met. He said his name was James. I pretended to know nothing of the hotel.

That night, Dylan touched my shoulder, and gently turned me around, untying the ribbon of my mask. “I want to see you,” he said. Brushing my hair aside, he kissed the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

He walked across the room and opened the heavy curtain, leaving the thin, privacy curtains closed. He switched off the lights, and the room filled with moonlight.

His mask still on, he stood across from me in front of the window. He leaned down, slipped off his shoes and socks, and dropped his suit jacket to the ground.

“Your turn,” he said, giving me a mischievous grin.

Desire flushed through my whole body. My lips parted. I nodded and pulled my sweater over my head, taking time to twirl it as if performing a slow strip tease. I undid my bra, tossed it toward him, and ran my fingers over my hardening nipples.

Dylan licked his lips and unbuttoned his black shirt to expose his abs and a trail of hair that started at his belly and ran into his black shorts.

He gave me a crooked smile and slid his hand into his briefs pulling out his rock-hard penis. Fisting it, he stroked himself.

“Your turn, clever Bella,” he said, his voice gravely.

I bit my lip, and inhaled. The excitement of this slow reveal made it hard for me to fully breathe. I reached behind my waist, unzipped my boots, and slipped them off. I pulled off my leather pants and stood in my panties, my fuck-me boots on the floor beside me.

He kept fisting himself as he pulled off his briefs. I dropped my panties. The electric charge between us grew as every piece of clothing fell to the floor. We stood naked in the moonlight.

With his mask still on, I sensed that the man standing before me wasn’t entirely Dylan or Strand. He was the two of them intertwined. His hand on his cock, I wanted him to possess me.

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