I reach for the toiletry bag I left on the bedside table, nearly knocking over the lamp in my eagerness.
My fingers fumble with the lube and condom, suddenly clumsy with anticipation. He notices, chuckling softly as he takes them from me. “Let me,” he purrs, voice low and seductive.
I watch, mesmerized, as he rolls the condom on me with practiced ease. Then he’s straddling my hips, and I can barely breathe. “You good?” I ask, wanting—needing—to be sure.
“More than good.” He opens the cap on the small bottle of lube and adds some to his fingers. Then he reaches behind himself. His eyes never leave me as he works himself open until he’s ready for me.
“You’re incredible,” I breathe, running my hands up his thighs.
He grins, leaning down to kiss me deeply. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
The anticipation is electric as he positions himself. I hold my breath, our gazes locked.
“Ready?” he asks softly.
I nod, unable to form words. And then, slowly, exquisitely, he sinks down onto me.
The sensation is overwhelming. I grip his hips, fighting for control. “Oh god,” I groan.
He starts to move, finding a rhythm that has us both gasping. The masked stranger above me becomes my entire world—the roll of his hips, the flex of his muscles, the soft sounds of pleasure escaping his lips.
“God, you feel amazing,” I groan, gripping his hips. “So tight, so perfect.”
He throws his head back, exposing the long line of his throat, and responds by increasing his pace. I’m lost. Everything narrows down to this moment, this connection. I thrust up to meet him, our bodies moving in perfect synchronicity.
The intensity builds, a crescendo of sensation and emotion. I can feel myself getting close, teetering on the edge.
The room fills with our ragged breathing, punctuated by soft moans and the occasional curse. I can feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
“I’m close,” I warn him, my voice barely more than a whisper.
“Me too,” he gasps, increasing his pace. “Touch me. Please.”
I wrap my hand around him, stroking in time with our movements. It only takes a few moments before he’s crying out, his body tensing as he finds his release. The sight and feel of him coming undone pushes me over the edge, and I follow him into blissful oblivion.
As we come down from our high, he collapses onto my chest, both of us breathing heavily. I wrap my arms around him, savoring the moment.
We lie tangled together, trying to catch our breaths. Despite the mask, I can see the satisfied smile on his face, and I’m sure it mirrors my own.
“That was…” I trail off, unable to find words adequate enough.
He chuckles softly. “Yeah, it was.”
As our heartbeats slow, I’m struck by how right this feels. How, even without knowing his name, I feel more connected to him than I have to anyone in a long time.
I’m still catching my breath when he shifts, lifting himself off me with a soft groan. “Don’t move,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before sliding off the bed.
I watch when he gracefully moves off the bed, admiring the lines of his body. As he disappears into the bathroom, I carefully remove the condom, tying a knot and throwing it in the trash can by the bed.
He returns with a damp washcloth, his movements gentle as he cleans me up. “You didn’t have to do that,” I say, surprised by the consideration.
He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “I wanted to.”
As he turns to toss the cloth toward the bathroom, I find myself studying the curve of his spine, the way his hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck. It’s ridiculous how much I want to reach out and touch him again.
“So,” he says, breaking the silence as he gathers his clothes. “I guess this is where the magic ends, huh?”
“Yeah…” I start, not sure what I’m even going to say. “That was fun.”
