Page 58 of Untether

That makes two of us, buddy.

That desire to please him is back, because he’s extraordinary. And if this thing began as a polite, professional agreement for him to fuck me and show me a good time, then it’s quickly spiralling out of control.

I’ve gotten us here. I sensed a better story than the one I was writing in my head, I put my hand up for more, I insinuated my way into tonight’s debauched circus, and I can feel said circus weaving its twisted magic around me.

If our masks are the starting point—the props that allowus to shelve our usual personas and assume darker, more daring, more carnal ones—then the sensory alchemy this place is creating around us will take us the rest of the way.

Cal keeps me pinned to the pillar. His head is still bent. His lips brush the skin of my neck and I shiver. The touch is light, but I wouldn’t call it gentle. I’d call it threatening. He puts his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there, and I allow myself to touch him, too. To trail my fingertips up his impossibly smooth back. To learn the curves of his muscles.

‘I know you’re a woman who needs hard evidence,’ he says, and I’d giggle at his unintentional pun if I wasn’t so fucking turned on. ‘We’ll get our room shortly, but how about you let me show you how much I want you in here?’

His thumbs squeeze between our bodies and press into the skin in front of my hip bones, a possessive gesture that has me grinding against him. This wasn’t the plan, but I blew the plan to smithereens when I moved our little rendezvous to the scene of an orgy.

Besides. The vibe in here is getting to me. Over Cal’s shoulder, a guy wearing just tight boxer briefs and an eye mask is tugging the dress off a woman and bending to take her nipple into his mouth. Cal has me facing away from most of the action, but just seeing that is making me feel wanton.

And don’t get me started on Cal himself. This mask of his is making me feral, as is the fact that we haven’t kissed properly this evening, and I want his tongue in my mouth so badly I can barely think straight.

Strike that. I want all of him. I want us both naked. I want him ranging over me, bearing down on me, thrusting inside me. I want his tongue and his fingers and his dick.And in this brief, heady moment of insanity, I want it so much that I’ll do whatever he wants right here.

Because tonight I’m not a mom or a news anchor or a divorcee. I’m a masked, incognito woman in the arms of a man who looks like the sexiest serial killer I have ever seen, and I am all in.

‘You can show me however you want,’ I tell him.

37

AIDA

“What in me is dark illumine, what is low raise and support.”

—Milton,Paradise Lost

That earns me a kiss.

He releases one hip, grips my jaw, and parts my lips with his tongue.

Sweet Jesus.

I open for him immediately. When his tongue finally drives into my mouth, it’s intoxicating. Hot and hard and male. Probing. Invading. His grip on my jaw is almost painful; his cock is grinding against my silk-covered pelvic bone. The feathery, bejewelled intricacy of my mask grates against the rough fabric of his face covering, but I couldn’t give a shit.

He can ruin my mask and grind me to dust against this pillar for all I care.

He releases my mouth and takes a step back from me,hooking a hand under my knee and pulling my leg up. The flowing silk of my dress bunches at my hip and that mouth of his curves into a satisfied smile as he glances down and sees my bare leg lifted for him.

I drop my head back so the pillar’s taking all my weight, and gaze up at him. My hands go to the gorgeous bare domes of his shoulders, and I tell myself I’m digging my fingertips into his skin so I don’t fall over.

‘I think you like my mask,’ he says. Watching his mouth enunciate over the music, watching his lips move in isolation, is nothing short of mesmerising.

I swallow. ‘I like it a lot.’

‘Good.’ He has my leg hanging over his arm still. With his free hand, he burrows under the silk of my dress and brushes his knuckles over the scrap of lace covering my pussy, and holy fucking Lord. I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth as he watches me intently.

‘You’re a very reckless girl, taking me on tonight,’ he says. He hooks a finger under the lace and pulls my thong aside, and the brief chafe of the fabric as he displaces it is enough to have me shivering with need. ‘You told me when you blew me that you wanted me to show you how I am with women I fuck at the club. Now you’re that woman, and I’m in serious danger of fucking you up so badly you won’t want anything more to do with me.’

It’s warm in here. Still, my pussy feels exposed. He has my thong pulled fully aside, but he’s not touching me, and I need him to. I need him to touch me really, really badly.

Maybe I need to provoke him. Poke the bear.

‘You won’t fuck me up,’ I tell him. ‘And you won’t scare me off.’

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