Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
His lips trace a path down my neck, leaving a trail of shivers. I gasp as his teeth graze my collarbone, the hint of pain only heightening my arousal. I arch my back, silently begging for more.
Who could this man be? Is he the guy on my phone? Maybe he’s just a banker, a doctor, a police officer, a firefighter . . . Jack. A fireman like Jack.
The mystery man spins me around, pressing my back against his chest. His strong arms encircle me, holding me tight as we continue to move to the beat. The tempo of the music speeds up, mirroring the racing of my heart. I lean my head back against his shoulder, closing my eyes and giving in to the sensations that flood through me. His lips find the sensitive spot below my ear, and I let out a soft moan. The thought of Jack fades away, replaced by the overwhelming desire for this stranger.
He reaches up, gently tracing the edge of my jaw with his thumb. “Is it time for me to unwrap you?” His voice is extremely deep . . . too deep as if he’s doing it to disguise his voice. But I don’t care.
He came! It’s him!
The realization hits me like a tidal wave, and I smile as I turn around to face him. “You came,” I breathe, my voice barely audible over the music. “I wondered if you would.”
His fingers deftly untie the red ribbon, letting it fall to the floor as his eyes never leave mine.
I see Sloane in the distance dancing with a man of her own, and our eyes lock in silent communication. This is where our night together ends and where we part to explore the next stage of the night. She gives me a wicked smile, and I know exactly what’s she’s telling me to do.
Should she be concerned I’m dancing with a masked man? Should I be?
He takes my hand and leads me through the writhing mass of dancers, guiding me toward a secluded corner of the club. The shadows envelop us as he pushes me gently against the wall, his body pressing into mine. His lips find mine in a passionate kiss, and I surrender to the intensity of the moment.
Our tongues dance together in perfect harmony, just as our bodies had on the dance floor. His hands explore my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I moan into his mouth as his fingers trace the edge of my dress, teasing the sensitive skin beneath.
Maybe I should ask for him to remove the mask, but I don’t want to. I like the feel of the velvet against my face as we kiss.
My fingers tangle in the fabric of his cloak as I pull him closer, desperate for more. The taste of him, the feel of him, it’s all consuming.
His hands slide up my thighs, lifting my dress just enough to give him access to the bare skin beneath. I gasp as his fingers brush against the lace of my panties, and he growls low in his throat.
In response to my gasp, he deepens our kiss, leaving me breathless and wanting. The teasing touch of his fingers sends waves of pleasure through me, and I rock my hips against his hand, silently begging for more.
He obliges, slipping his fingers beneath the lace and finding my wetness. I moan into his mouth as he begins to stroke me, his expert touch sending pure eroticism crashing over me. I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as I look around at the hundreds of clubgoers who don’t seem to notice. It’s not like we are the only ones in sexual acts in the room, but I’ve never been so exposed before. I’ve never done anything in the open. But just like the fantasy I described to him in our chat . . . I craved this.
The world around us fades away, and all that exists is the booming music and the feel of his body pressed against mine.
Breaking the kiss, he mouths, “Come.”
He takes my hand and leads me through the writhing mass of dancers, toward a door at the back of the club. My heart pounds, and my breath seems trapped in my chest as we make our way up a narrow staircase and into a dimly lit hallway. He stops in front of a door, his hand reaching for the knob.
I consider running before he pushes the door open, revealing a dimly lit room with plush red curtains draped over the walls. The scent of incense fills the air, and the distant and muffled sound of music from the club below filters in through the walls.
He guides me inside, closing the door behind us, and locks it. Even though we are alone in the room, we aren’t really alone. There are two huge floor to ceiling windows revealing people in a room on the other side. The viewers watch with rapt attention, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the room. They are close enough to see us, but far enough away that their features are indistinct.