Page 46 of His Haunted Desire
We watchHalloween,Friday the 13th,Poltergeist,andThe Lost Boys. There’s something effortless about curling up in his arms, enjoying the films, especially when the storm gets going again and the wind howls.
I feel safe in his arms. We don’t say much, and when we speak, it’s throwaway comments about the movies. It’s an uneventful day. At some point, we take off our masks, exchanging looks every so often. Raiden teases me when I leap up at the jump scare, so I bide my time, waiting for a quiet moment, then let out a scream to scare him.
He winks. “It’ll take more than that to scare me, beautiful.”
All too soon, it’s time to get ready for the ball. I almost persuade him to stay here, spend the whole Retreat watching movies so we don’t have to pretend anymore.
“I’ll get ready first,” he says. “Take my suit into the en-suite so we don’t have any… issues.”
He strides across the room, his shoulders broad and imposing, leaving no room for confusion about what these ‘issues’ could be.
Maybe he thinks if I see him without any clothes on I’ll lose it. Which might not be wholly false.
I still remember his naked body, water dripping down his muscular torso, his manhood rock solid as he touched himself in the shower.
I get my dress and makeup ready. When he walks out of the shower in his suit tailored to perfection, a deep yet hard-to-ignore shudder courses through me.
In the shower, with the water running down my body, I do my best not to imagine it’s Raiden’s hands. I do my best not to imagine him walking up behind me, pressing his naked body against mine.
“With our masks on, we can do anything. Be anyone.”
I finish up, then sit in my bathrobe and do my makeup and hair. Finally, I slip into my dress but hit a snag.
I return to the bedroom. “Could you help me with the zipper?”
We’re both still maskless, letting me see the captivation in his eyes. He looks at me as though I’m a feast. He doesn’t cross the room; he prowls across it. I turn around, looking into a full-length mirror as he walks up behind me.
“You look unbelievable,” he whispers breathily.
“I’m glad you like it… Sir.”
I’m sending him mixed signals, can’t deny it. But when he looks at me like this, though, it’s difficult to remember the last time he touched me was supposed to be a mistake.
“I don’t just like it.” He slowly does my zipper up, his hand brushing against my bare skin. “I love it. You look perfect.” His voice holds a distinguishable shudder.
“Perfect, sir?”
“Do you want to feel how wild you’re making me?”
I swallow.Say no. Attempting to be reasonable.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”
“Fuck. Yes, you do.”
He slips his hands around my body and spreads his hands over my stomach, allowing him to pull me against him. His thick, hard, big manhood pushes against my ass.
“You feel that?” he growls.
“Yes,sir.” My voice catches as I struggle to hide my lust. He’s thick, filled with urgent desire, grinding against me as he shifts his hips.
“You want this,” he groans. “Call it a mistake. Call it a deal. But your body wants this.”
“We’re not having sex,” I whisper. Even to myself, I sound as though I’m pleading, attempting to convince myself as well as him.
He takes my shoulders and turns me. Our kiss is explosive, fire working behind my eyelids. I gasp against his lips.
“This time,” he snarls, “you’re going to touch me.”
