Page 137 of Speak

“Raven darling, you look absolutely stunning!”

So do you. I sign, keeping my movements small, and between us. And I’m being honest. Where I opted for a deep ruby red, Elena opted for emerald with a matching mask, bringing out the deep red in her hair, freckles along her shoulders, her lips painted the same shade as her hair. Her husband, who stands beside her, opted to go with the traditional Venetian suit like Damon’s.

He looks positively bored when he turns to Jonas. “I trust you’ll be on your best behavior tonight, son?”

“Unless bad behavior is warranted, Father.” he murmurs which brings a smile to Elena’s lips and mine.

“Boys.” She says to me and rolls her eyes and when the string quartet begins to play Waltz No. 2, by Dmitri Shostakovich her eyes go wide. “Oh, darling, dance with me.”

Jonas, without groaning, obliges his mother, he gives me a kiss on the cheek, and they move to the dance floor. The light of the tea-lights reflect off her gown as they move swiftly about.

“I suppose you and I should dance as well, seeing as he believes he’s to marry you.” I blush at Mr. Anderson’s declaration that Jonas has already told him he wants to make me his wife. I take his large hand in mine as we flow into the already dancing couples.

It’s on the third spin when I’m smiling, my head tilted back, his hand under my shoulder blade, when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“May I cut in?” Axel asks, and just like that, I’m handed off to my stepbrother without missing a beat. It makes me sad, and I don’t like it because as we move, I’m transported back in time when we were ten and forced to take ballroom dancing lessons. Back when I could talk and we stepped on each other’s toes and fumbled, gripingabout being too close to the other, making faces and laughing at our instructor’s heavy German accent.

I’m grateful he doesn’t speak for the remainder of the waltz.

I’m spinning again when Axel inhales. I keep my eyes off of him, searching for Jonas in the dancing bodies, but my eyes land on him. On her. On the stupid grins on their faces as they stand beside Dean Whitmore, and when Thadd’s gaze finds mine, his eyes narrow to the point of slits and a completely different melody begins in my head, making my feet stumble because I can’t differentiate the music in my head from the one playing outside of it.

“Does your leg hurt? Do you need to sit down?” a concerned Axel asks just as Jonas comes to me.

“I got her.”

“I-“

“I said I got her, Axel.” Jonas reiterates, a bark in his tone.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll… I’ll just go.” And off he goes, tail firmly tucked between his legs. “See you around, Cookie.”

The old nickname splits me.

“You okay, baby?”

I nod, but then I shake my head as he leads me out onto the quad, and we stand by the wall near the back garden that’s dead and still so beautiful, lit up by more tea-light candles. It’s secluded and picturesque.

I’m going to disappear tonight. I… I might need a ride home. I need you to make up an excuse for me.

Jonas’ brows shoot up. “Tonight?”

I give him one simple nod and lift my skirts, dragging his hand beneath them so he can feel my goodie bag strapped to it on the outside of my thigh.

He sighs. “Just… keep your phone on you so I know when to go to you, okay? I’ll stay close by wherever you go, but baby, I don’t like you doing things like this without me.”

I grin up at my love. “Bad girl?”

Oh, the upwards tilt of his lips beneath that mask is wicked. Desire pools between my thighs as he crowds me with his heat. “Yeah baby, I’ll have to punish you later for being bad without me.”

My nipples harden, his hand still between my skirts as it travels upward and my thighs part for him so easily. “Or maybe Ishould punish you now… fuck you’re so wet. I love your pussy. I’m a slave to it… to you. Fuck, I love you.”

For a moment, I understand the allure of having an affair dressed like this, because when he loosens his trousers and steps forward, my back against the rough stoney wall, his lips on mine, his hand digging into the flesh of my thigh, and he thrusts into me, our masks touching on the nose, thrills shoot up. And it’s not the chill of the evening.

It’s the rush that is loving Jonas Anderson.

______

After going to the bathroom, pulling on the full body spandex suit I purchased from none other than a popular party store, slipping it over my legs and pulling it as high as I could without making the bodice of my dress bunch up, tying the goodie bag around my thigh and stepping out to the Ball again - I keep my focus on the Whitmore’s, every turn they make, every person they speak to, every drink in their hands, counting six for Ashleigh when Thadd removes it from her hand. How her smile falters beneath her mask.

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