Page 4 of Masquerade Mistake

“I’m sober enough to know I want this,” I said. “And I drank enough to want more.”

I was all heartbeat as he pulled me on top of him. My back rested against the steering wheel, and my dress pooled around us like airy meringue. His hand tentatively touched my mask, and I jerked back, accidentally hitting the horn at the same time. My nervous giggle led to a soft chuckle from him, until both of us were unable to stop laughing. Whatever happened, it broke the tension.

“Can we leave the mask on?” I asked, covering his hand with my own. He threaded his fingers through mine, then brought them to his lips.

“So you can forget this night?”

I shook my head. “I have a feeling I’m never forgetting this night. But the mask, the fact that you’re a stranger, that I don’t know your name… The mystery adds something to this, don’t you think?”

He smiled, then cupped my cheek.

“How will I call you tomorrow, then?”

“You won’t,” I said. “Why would you? You’ll be in Denver, and I’ll be in San Diego. I plan to leave everything behind. I mean…” I paused trying to find a polite way to say it. “If I get to know you, I–”

“It’s okay,” he said, his lips curving into an irresistible grin. “I get it. But tonight, I get you— Miss Whatever Your Name Is.”

I tilted my head back to laugh, but he caught me. Pulling me to him, his mouth crushed on mine. His fingers fumbled with my zipper, then the cool air of night caressed my naked skin. His warm hands covered my breasts as his kiss deepened, and all my senses came alive. It was like my skin was one continuous nerve ending, and every place he touched left goosebumps and tremors in its wake. I felt him harden, the thick denim of his jeans and my thin cotton panties the only barrier between us. I moved against him, feeling as daring as I did nervous, and he groaned against my mouth.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice husky as his fingers wove through my messy hair.

“I have some idea,” I murmured. My lips ached from the forcefulness of his kisses, and I longed for so much more. With a swallow of courage, I cupped his package through his jeans, then raked my finger across the material covering his hardened bulge.

“Fucking hell.” He ground himself against my hand as his finger brushed aside my panties and found my slick slit. “You’re so fucking wet.”

I moaned at his touch, my whole body coming alive at the realization that we were doing this. I was both excited and scared out of my mind. Would it hurt? Right now I wasn’t sure I cared. I wanted him in me, to relieve the deep ache in the center of my core. It felt like I would explode if he didn’t remedy it immediately.

I undid his zipper, then grasped his unsheathed cock. It wasn’t the first cock I’d ever held, but goddamn, it was the nicest. It filled my whole hand, and I raked my fingers over the smooth, hardened curve. He groaned; head tilted back as I continued my exploration. Looking it his masked face, I was overcome by the eroticism of this moment. It was like something straight out of Fifty Shades. At least it seemed that way through my lack of experience.

His finger penetrated me, and I yelped in surprise. He stilled, pulling back and looking me in the eye.

“Is this okay?”

I nodded, unsure how to even form words. I’d gone this far before, but the fullness of his finger was unexpected. And if it felt this tight, how was I going to take the fullness of him?

“It’s good,” I assured him, then moved my hips so that his finger slid in further. Holy hell, it felt good. I panted against him as he withdrew, hovering at the edge.

“More,” I breathed, guiding my hips against his hand. He curled his fingers inside me, the heel of his palm brushing against my clit as he rolled my nipple between two fingers. He captured my nipple in his mouth, and a warm sensation bloomed at the top of my head before cascading down my body in waves as I gripped his shirt.

“Oh, God,” I panted as his hand kept a steady rhythm. I reveled in the intensity as I prayed it would never end. His hand eventually slowed, though, and my orgasm faded with it. His eyes danced as I moaned in protest, even as I fought for breath.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, brushing my hair away from my masked eyes. “I’m not done with you yet.” He leaned across me, reaching into the glove compartment and fumbling around. This time, it was his turn to groan. When he leaned back, he shot me a grin, though tinged with frustration.

“I don’t have a condom,” he explained. “But it’s fine, I want this to be about you.”

Before I could respond, he had me on my back, my dress hiked up, and his hands clutching the sides of my panties before he slid them down.

“What do you mean about me? Oh!” I sucked in a sharp breath at the warmth of his mouth on my clit before he nestled his tongue into my folds. I clutched his hair as he licked me, the buildup growing with each sensitive stroke. This time, I did explode—my whole body an electrified mess of nerves.

“Please,” I begged, my yearning now a full-fledged blaze.

“Tell me what you need.” His mouth lapped at me as I lost all sense of place, everything disappearing as he coaxed out wave after wave.

“I need you inside me,” I pleaded, my frustration mounting as he shook his head.

“I want to. God, I want to. But I can’t.”

“I’m clean,” I promised. I’ve never been with anyone else.