Page 37 of Masks and Mishaps

He surveys me before he says, “The first thing you said was your name.” His tone is even. “The second thing you said was, ‘I’ve never met anyone named Dalton before. I’ve also never met a guy so…huge before.’” A grin passes over his lips. “Damn right you hadn’t. I was so high on myself that I bought a Ducati.”

“I didn’t know you had a motorcycle.”

“Ev made me return it before I could accidentally kill myself.” He braces his hands on the mattress, bracketing my thighs. “And yes, I was pretending to be lightheaded so you would pet my hair, Essie.”

My jaw drops. “You manipulative shit.”

“Funny coming from you,” he replies, bringing his masked face closer, “after all the tricks you’ve been playing. Writing my name on your hand?”

“I’m—”

“You’re quite possibly the hottest woman on Earth.” He smirks. “If you didn’t know I’d be obsessed with how cunning you are, you don’t know me at all.”

“Dalton,” I begin, rising to my feet.

“Sit,” he repeats, gently pushing me back onto my bed. “You told me I held the fate of your next orgasm in my hands—or in this case, on my tongue. Or did you lie to me?”

My brain is spinning, pinging with questions and surprise, tangled up in the disarray that is Dalton Cavendish. “I think we should talk first.”

“Seems like a waste of time, but talk away, Romero.”

“Okay,there. Right there. When have youevernot wanted to talk to me?”

Dalton stares fixedly through the eyeholes in the mask. “I was clear: If we have a contract,thisis the version of me you get. You don’t get the guy who baked cookies while he prepped you for banking interviews. You don’t get the guy who paid for your twenty-first birthday dinner. Emerald X gets this. So, spread your legs and let me see that gorgeous pussy.”

“Fine,” I murmur, reclining and parting my legs slightly, allowing my knees to separate. “But this was supposed to be my thing.”

“You should have put that in our contract,” he replies as he rests one hand on my ankle. “Wider.”

“I thought it was a given,” I protest. “I’m the professional camgirl. I’m the one who plans everything.”

“Maybe I want to be in charge,” he replies. “Maybe I want to take care of everything. How about that?” His hands wrap around my ankles. “Wider, baby.”

“And if I don’t?” I push, testing how far he’s going to take this act.

He releases my ankles. “Then you have to go on a romantic weeklong getaway to my vacation home in Rhinebeck,” he replies, undoing the small button on the cuff of his button-down as he speaks.

I snicker—until the rare, unamused expression on Dalton’s face tells me he’s serious. “Sorry—what did you say?”

“I said, if you don’t spread your legs and show me your dripping, desperate pussy, we’re going to Rhinebeck. Have you been yet? It’s boring. Pretty, if you’re into that. I’m not.”

My brow has never been tighter. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You see,” he goes on as he starts rolling his sleeve up his muscled forearm, “pretty doesn’t do it for me. I’m a simple guy and I think a lot of things are pretty. Like, the other day, I was over on U-Street, getting a hoagie. The cross-section was, like, a Renaissance masterpiece.” He finishes tucking his sleeve above his forearm. “Two full layers of mortadella. Beefsteak tomatoes. Pepperoncini. So fucking pretty.”

He holds out his other arm, but I don’t move. Usually, I can keep up with Dalton’s particular brand of disorder, but I’m so in the dark right now.

“Undo that for me, baby,” he instructs.

His other button. I reach up, and it’s only then I realize how unsteady I am.

“I’m not impressed by pretty,” he goes on, starting the folding process on his other arm. “Pretty is common. It doesn’t excite me. Doesn’t make my blood flow. No, what gets me, Essie, is what’s underneath all that prettiness.” He finishes his sleeve and stands over me, hands now tucked into the pockets of his iconically tailored pants. “You’re very pretty, Essie, but what I love about you are those parts beneath the surface. You’re shrewd for such a pretty girl, but most people don’t realize, do they?”

He’s right; they don’t. I shake my head.

“So, it surprises me someone so smart and so shrewd didn’t read her contract before she signed it. I’m pretty disappointed about that, Ess. I thought I taught you better.”

I tilt my head to the side. “What didn’t I read?”

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