Do I dare? I feel almost giddy with this sudden turn of events, so why not? “That you allow me to kiss you, Oliver.”
“In general? Or—”
“Now. Here. That wretched mask will have to stay on, of course, but I’ve…missed kissing you.” I hope he doesn’t hear the quaver in my voice. But Iampleased to note the flush that runs up his neck as he takes in my words.
“I’d like that too, my lord.”
Under normal circumstances, I might command him to come to me, but I don’t want to waste the words. I close the space between us, a lion closing in on a gazelle, perhaps, except that this gazellevery muchwants to be eaten. I try to pause in front of him, willing myself to slow down, but my emotions have gotten the better of me. I pull him into my arms, one hand cradling his head so that I can press his mouth hard against mine.
Tasting his mouth—after believing that I wouldnevertaste him again—awakens all sorts of desires in me. But the overwhelming sense isrelief, like I’ve finally woken from a nightmare, and don’t need to dread the darkness anymore.
When he pulls away, gasping, I almost let him go completely, afraid that I’ve been too passionate, but he’s smiling. “I want to do something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise you won’t open your eyes.”
Intrigued, I shut my eyes.
“Promiseyou won’t open them,” he says again, insistent this time.
“I promise.”
I can feel him moving, his arms rising up, and I hear a soft, silky noise before something drops faintly on the carpet.
“Eyes closed,” he reminds me. His hands cup my face, and I am immediately glad that my eyes are shut, because they sting with faint tears at his touch. With care, he gently strokes over my face, his fingertips brushing over my lips, and then I taste him again, his mouth on mine, his arms winding around me, and I realize what he’s done.
He’s removed the mask.
All members of the household staff areabsolutely forbiddento take off their masks. Yes, I’ve asked him to remove it at night, in the dark, also expressly forbidden, but that was when there was no chance at all of my seeing his full face. But here—in daylight—the sunshine streaming full in the floor-to-ceiling windows—all I would have to do is crack my eyelids, just slightly, and I would see him.
The temptation is almost overwhelming, but his kiss keeps me compliant.
And after all, I made a promise to him. I gave him my word. To me, that means something.
Still, it’s torture to have him so close to me and to not be able to look him full in the face. I concentrate instead on the movements of his mouth, re-learning his preferred way to kiss, as though I hadn’t already memorized it down to the last atom of my being. But I can hardly complain about a refresher coursethisdelightful.
It’s not just my mouth he’s kissing; my whole body is tingling with desire for him, the need to have him, to devour him as I did the other night. I want to rip off his shirt and lick across the music I wrote into his skin. I want to throw him onto the bed, open him up, and drive into him until he’s screaming for the mercy of orgasm.
“Oliver,” I gasp at last into his neck, “if we keep going I…”
“Yes, my lord?” he murmurs, so coy and innocent that I give a low chuckle.
“Regretfully, you’d better put your mask back on. I don’t think I can standnotlooking at you a moment longer.”
There’s a long pause, but his thoughts are so loud I can read them.Then look at me. Look at me.
But fortunately for both of us, his caution—or perhaps just his memory of the household rules—overcomes his recklessness.
“Yes, my lord,” he sighs, and pulls away from me. I run my hands through my hair as I wait, a nervous gesture that I hope he’ll forgive. “Okay,” he says at last. “You can open your eyes.”
Part of me hopes that I’ll see him bare-faced and brazen, that hisdamn the rulesattitude has won out. But the red mask is back in place, covering him from forehead to lips. Lips that are still wet and red from our kissing…
I reach out and brush my thumb over them. “Youwillstay? Don’t be cruel to me, Oliver.”
He opens his mouth, takes in my thumb for a moment, then releases it with a slow, erotic suck. “The last thing I want is to be cruel. I will stay. Subject to my work hours,” he adds quickly, and slides a hand in his pocket. It reappears with a folded-up square of paper, which he hands out. “And I brought my schedule for you, my lord. So that you can…”
Track his movements? Be told when I can and cannot have access to him?
