The orgasm explodes through me, ripping me apart and putting me back together in a single devastating rush of unrelenting heat. My clit throbs under my stranger’s relentless touch. My core clenches around nothing, hungry for more, and I ride the waves of pleasure until I'm limp in his arms.
Slowly, the world comes back into focus.
The onlookers on nearby settees give me nods of appreciation, sensual smiles playing at their lips. I know that if I crooked a finger in any of their directions, they would join us without hesitation.
But I don't want them.
I tip my head back to look at the man still holding me, and even through the haze of afterglow, the hunger in his eyes steals my breath. His mask hides half his face, but his emotions live in theset of his jaw, the parting of his full lips, the heavy rise and fall of his chest. He's as turned on as I am.
“How I would love to clear your face of all that beautiful paint so I can see the real you.”
I almost forgot about the leaves and flowers painted over my cheeks in lieu of a real mask.
I brush my fingers over his trimmed beard, feeling the coarse hair beneath my fingertips. What I'm not ready for is the depth of patience and burning desire I find in his eyes. Heat touches me like a physical thing as he holds my gaze.
As if he can sense I rather not talk about identities, he presses his lips to the outline of my ear and husks, "That was beautiful."
His voice is rough and I don’t miss how affected he sounds. He lifts his hand to his mouth and slowly sucks my arousal from his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine.
Then he pulls a crisp handkerchief from his breast pocket and passes it slowly through my slick folds, cleaning me with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. When he's done, he tucks the handkerchief back into his pocket.
"Evidence that angels grace mere mortals with their beauty and desire."
Sexiest thing ever.
My heart wants to expand and faint all at once.
I wet my lips with my tongue, and as embarrassing as it is to admit, I lose the nerve to ask what comes next. I'm not ready for this night to end, but how do I put that into words?
He reads me like I'm written in a language he's spoken all his life. His finger hooks beneath my chin, tilting my face up, and he brushes his lips over mine in a kiss so light it barely qualifies. But it leaves me burning all the same.
"Ask me, beautiful. What is on your mind? I’m yours to command."
"Will you show me more?" I can't believe the words are leaving my mouth. I'm asking a complete stranger to take me to bed. But that's what I came here for, and he's everything I didn't know I wanted. "Will you show me more of that kind of pleasure?"
I glance back at the stage, where the three men have moved beyond oral and are filling their lover in every imaginable way. Their shared woman’s face is pure bliss, her body suspended between them like they're the only thing keeping her tethered to this earth.
I want that. I want to feel that. Just once.
His lips curve into a smile that promises sin and salvation in equal measure. He turns me in his arms so we're facing each other, and he cups my jaw in both hands, tilting my face up to meet his.
"I will show you everything, jungle flower." His voice drops to a rough whisper that scrapes over my nerve endings like silk and gravel. "I will take you apart piece by piece and put you back together with my hands and my mouth and my cock. I will ruin you for any other man who dares to try."
My knees threaten to buckle. His arm tightens around my waist, holding me upright, and that dark promise burns in his eyes like banked coals waiting to ignite.
"But first," he murmurs against my lips, "I need your name."
“Tsk, tsk.” I trace a finger along his jaw, feeling the coarse hair of his beard beneath my fingertip. "No names, remember? Isn’t the whole point of a masquerade to remain mysterious?"
His eyes darken with amusement and something hungrier. "I want to know what to call you when I make you scream."
A pulse of raw want shoots straight through my core, but I don't give in. Not yet. "You've been doing just fine with 'jungle flower.'"
A low chuckle rumbles through his chest. "Stubborn little thing, aren't you?"
I lift a leafy shoulder with a playful shrug. "Maybe I just like making you work for it." I rise onto my tiptoes and brush my lips against the corner of his mouth, a tease of a kiss. "If you earn it, I might tell you my name."
The challenge ignites something feral in his gaze. His grip tightens on my waist, possessive and promising.
