Midnight at the Masquerade (3 page)

She ground her hips against his hand, rocking hard against the spasms of orgasm. Her breath left her as she reached climax, but the masquerader didn’t stop. He didn’t want her to catch her breath.

His head dipped between her legs and he flicked the tip of his tongue gently against the hood of her clit. Her legs opened further, inviting more. He explored her with his tongue. His arms slipped around her waist and he pulled her to him. His tongue plunged deeper inside her, pushing her close to the edge again. She clenched the folds of her dress and bit the bottom of her lip hoping to hold on until he was inside her.

“Wait,” she breathed, struggling to speak with the growing throb between her legs. “What about you?”

He lifted his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, revealing a devil’s grin. He slipped a condom from his pocket and waved it in the air teasingly.

“This work?”

Krista barely nodded as he began to undress. He stood up and slid out of his trousers to reveal long, muscular legs. His shirt was off and on the ground at his feet before she even had time to appreciate the beauty in front of her. Moonlight spilled across his naked body and she took in every silver silhouetted inch. Krista watched, her mouth slightly agape as he ran his thick-fingered hand slowly down his erection, the stroke seeming ever long. He rolled the condom over his cock and she shuddered with anticipation at the thought of trying to take in every swollen inch of him.

“Come here,” he said. She stood drunkenly, intoxicated on her own desires. He picked her up in his arms and laid her gently on the ground. The grass was soft and damp beneath her skin, making the warmth and weight of his body exquisitely welcome as he lay down on top of her. 

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently, then slid into her. He moved mischievously at first, using the tip of his cock to tease her. Then he thrust inside her, feeling her up, making her whimper. They moved together slowly, their hearts pounding in tandem. He traced the edge of her jaw with his finger and thumb and she trembled beneath him.

Her hand moved down the taut muscles of his back and she brought her legs around him, needing to feel him all around her. He slipped one hand beneath her ass and pushed deeper inside of her. His rhythm picked up speed. She could feel his cock throbbing, aching for release. Her hips arched up to meet his eager thrusts. He growled low and deep, something guttural, dark, primal.

She clawed desperately at his sinew back as he continued to push inside her, each thrust harder, faster than the last. She mewled with pleaser as desire built inside her. She felt him come and her back arched as a shockwave of pure pleasure erupted in her core, ricocheting through her body. He rode her until the last wave of ecstasy faded to a tremor.

He removed his cape and draped it around her, pulling her against his chest. She rested there, trying to catch her breath as the crescendo inside her ebbed. They stayed that way for what felt like hours, his arms around her, her head nestled in the crook of his neck. Krista fought the threat of tears for the second time that night. Not tears of pain, but pure pleasure. Joyous, exalting, mind-numbing release.

Who was this man that held her so gently, made love to her so passionately?

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, breaking her thoughts. She tilted her head up to look at him.

“Who are you?” she said into the darkness that surrounded them like a black blanket. She didn’t know why she bothered to whisper. The garden was empty. They were alone.

“You don’t know?” he asked, his voice as thick as the warm June air.

Slowly he removed his volto mask and Krista took in his face one handsome feature at a time. Eyes fathomless and dark, lips thin, soft, and pink, square unshaven jaw. Her heart squeezed in her chest.             

“You?”

He blushed and cleared his throat, looking everywhere but in her eyes. “Were you hoping for someone else?” he asked, and his voice trembled.

Krista shook her head. “No… I just… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m shy,”
he said, staring into the night. “I couldn’t bring myself to speak to you. Let alone do this,” he waved his hand as if swatting away a mosquito. “You’re so… amazing.”

She gave him a hard, disbelieving look. The Britain Bentley she knew was anything but shy. A playboy, a flirt, yes. But shy? She never in a million years would have guessed.

He held his hands up, a gesture of pure innocence. “It’s true. Painfully true.”

“You seem so easygoing. You’re so…”

“Social?”

“Yes,” Krista agreed.

“I put on a good show, but honestly it’s a struggle. I feel like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.” He shrugged. “But… I guess that’s the price you pay for being awkward and introverted.”

Krista smiled and pecked his cheek. “Lucky for me he’s not.” She rubbed her hand against his cock and Britain groaned, growing stiff again in her hand.

Britain Bentley placed his hand over Krista’s, helping her work it up and down his growing erection. He smiled. “I guess we both got lucky tonight.”