Page 29 of His Haunted Desire
How do I know that?
I may or may not have snuck to the en-suite door–which he left slightly cracked–and pushed it open. And I may or may not have let curiosity get the better of me.
When I saw him standing in the shower through the glass door, his eyes closed, his huge manhood in his big hand and every muscle tight as he focused on his fantasy, I almost joined him.
For a crazy, misguided moment, I almost tore off my clothes and climbed into the shower with him. I imagined whispering,“Are you thinking of me, sir?”
Then, I quickly closed the door and hurried back into the bedroom.
I shouldn’t have looked. I shouldn’t even be thinking like this.
Sleeping with him will just complicate matters. What if he thinks there’s something real because of that?
And afterwards, when he was arguing with that guy, he looked devastated. He tried to hide it with a gruff attitude, but in his eyes he betrayed the little boy who needed a hug.
I rub soap on my breasts and over my stomach, thinking about after. The spanking, the kissing sting of it. It was myreward, he said.
Give me a break.
I get ready in here, not wanting to change in front of him. I do my makeup and my hair and everything else with the door firmly locked. It takes just over an hour. I emerge in my party dress.
Raiden is waiting for me, wearing a well-tailored tuxedo that might as well not exist… all I see is his naked, muscled, soaking wet body. He makes a throaty noise when he lays eyes on me.
“That dress is stunning,” he says.
I enjoy the compliment. Is that so bad?
“Thank you,” I reply. “I’ll just get my mask, and then I’m good to go.”
He takes his mask from the bed and puts it on. It’s white with gold trim. Mine is an off-white color with silver additions dotted around, like teardrops or glitter.
He takes my shoulders and leans down.
I suck in a breath at how close he is, and whisper, “What are you doing?” But I don’t stop him.
“We didn’t practice kissing with the masks on.”
I should tell him no. Nobody’s watching. There’s no need for this.
Then his lips are on mine. The masks knock together, but it doesn’t make him taste any less addictive, doesn’t make the sensations burning through my body any less real.
“Okay, it works,” I say, moving away.
He keeps his hand on the small of my back, pinning me in place. “You’re not going anywhere. Now, you belong to me.”
“Yes, sir,” I murmur, thinking of the fifty K, of saving the shop, of Grandma.
He keeps his hand on me the whole time until we’re in the grand dining hall. A long table dominates the room with a raised chair at the head of it, where Evangeline sits, wearing the same outfit as earlier. Waiters and waitresses in masks crisscross the room with our d'oeuvres. Men and women in suits and elegant dresses, all masked, talk in small circles.
When Evangeline stands, everyone moves toward the table. I follow Raiden’s lead. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated. Everyone else seems to know what they’re doing.
Waiters and waitresses bring out glasses of champagne for the fifty-some guests, laying them in front of us.
Evangeline raises her glass. It takes me a beat to follow suit when everyone does the same.
“Welcome, esteemed guests,” Evangeline says in a loud voice. “Strangers, mystery men and women, hidden pleasure seekers and masters of society. Here, you are free to forget about the world, about your responsibilities, indeed, about yourselves. Here, masked, you are no one. And no one is here to judge you.”
“No one,” everyone repeats in unison.
