Masked Page 6

  Was he even real?

  She yearned to reach out and learn that answer for herself.

  She’d never been more afraid to move in her life.

  She cleared her throat. Tried to straighten her stance but wondered if she should lower her head instead. Or bow. Or curtsy? Or shake his hand? Hell. She was the girl who’d read every research book on dungeon etiquette, right? But now she really did feel like the girl at the prom with toilet paper attached to her heel.

  “Hi,” she finally managed. “I…I mean hello. Hello, Sir. I…I mean…”

  If she really had something to say after that, it would’ve disappeared as soon as he lifted her hand between both of his. Shivers. Everywhere. Her blood. Her skin. And yes, even in the deepest parts of her most intimate tunnel. His skin was so firm and warm, his grip a steady command, his eyes still impossible to read. That fact alone brought even more of the illicit tremors…

  He stepped closer, peering at her harder, as if trying to figure her out more fully. “Ssshhh. Breathe, red.”

  Red. Though she liked playing up the unique color of her hair, she always cringed when someone used the too-typical nickname. But on his lips, it was transformed into something new. Magical.

  “Breathe. Right. Okay…right. God. I am so sorry. You must think I’m so—” She injected a weak laugh. “I’m normally better at the whole conversation thing, I promise.”

  Why was she blowing this so badly? And why did he make it worse with his disarming grin and his tightening hold? And the intensity of his nearness. And the potency of his scent. How could the combination of Scotch and dust suddenly smell so incredible?

  “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who intruded.”

  “Oh, yeah. ‘Intruded.’” She blew a pseudo-raspberry. “Because there was so much going on here in my corner to intrude on.”

  “There would’ve been.”

  His mutter edged close to an animal’s timbre, making her shiver. Tess had heard enough radio spy chatter over the years to know the small disk on his neck was a voice distorter of some sort—but instead of raising her wariness, it only added to his allure. A lot.

  Too much.

  The conflict hastened her reckless heartbeat, especially as he repeated, “Oh, yeah. You were going to have a waiting line tonight, I can guarantee it. Then I would’ve had to bounce a few skulls together.”

  “Why?” She knew how stupid it sounded. The possessive snarl beneath his words spoke enough meaning for anyone to figure out—except, perhaps, her. The protective thing was usually her gig, a default when one was looking out for sisters who were “the pretty one” and “the smartass.” Grasping the concept that anyone wanted to look after her in the same way…

  Weird. Very weird.

  But nice.

  Really nice.

  Still, she braced herself for his teasing chuckle. Maybe some sarcastic quip at what a “silly subbie” she was for not comprehending his intent.

  Once more, the man turned her expectations sideways. No. Fully upside down. Her senses careened as he released a hand, lifting it to her jaw, yanking up her face to the focus of his fathomless gaze. “Why?” he repeated. “Because I’m pretty well set on having you all to myself tonight, rose.” His fingers pressed in. “Unless you aren’t interested in what you see?”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “At the risk of being trite, do I look like I’m kidding?”

  “At the risk of being obnoxious, do I look like a nun? Because that’s the only situation where I can imagine you being turned down, Sir Sexy.”

  Air pushed past his smirk. His thick stubble disguised the exact edges of his lips, but the flash of his teeth briefly showed her they were curved and lush…and maybe a little wicked.

  Wicked. Right behind daunting on what she’d come here looking for.

  “I ought to stamp your ass with my palm for that cheek, little rose. But I don’t even know your name yet.”

  She couldn’t help grinning. If “cheek” earned her comments like that, she was tempted to change her name to Cheeky.

  “Odette.” She supplied the name she’d used with Master Max when turning in her application. If Sir Sexy had asked about her before coming over here—and something told her he had—then it was best to be consistent. “And you are…?”

  “Interested.” His lips tugged up again. “And intrigued. And fully cleared by Max, if you’d like to ask him about me. He and I have been friends for a while.”

  She looked toward the bar, where Max was waiting with a reassuring nod. It reinforced the security she already felt with Sexy—but also the apprehension, delicious and decadent, that inched its way into more of the sensitive skin between her thighs.

  Hell.

  She was really stepping down the rabbit hole this time, wasn’t she?

  With a Dom she couldn’t stop staring at.

  Who hadn’t stopped staring at her either.

  Who turned her bloodstream to mush because of it.

  “You’re good,” she finally blurted. “I-I mean, it’s good. I like it…that you’re interested.”

  “And intrigued,” he prompted.

  “Same difference,” she volleyed. “Right?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  She swallowed. How had he pressed at least six inches closer without her noticing? “Your semantics are certainly curious.”

  His kiss, soft yet sure, was the last response she expected—yet the perfect pin in her careful composure. Pin? Try a full arrow, piercing to her very core…a wound that felt so damn good. She moaned and then inhaled, ordering her brain to locate its This End Up sign. This was the craziest opener to a date she’d ever had—if this could even be qualified as a “date.”

  Damn good point. What the hell was this? Maybe they needed to talk about that. Set some parameters. Lay down ground rules for next steps, and—

  Thoughts that flew from her mind the moment Sexy kissed her again. Longer. Deeper. Pushing her mouth open this time, coaxing her tongue against his, all but dictating her to kiss him in return—like she’d resist a single moment of this heat and fire and pleasure. He turned her into a firework. And like the song said, she was ready to let her colors burst.

  Don’t stop. This is so good. You feel so good…

  But he did, all too soon, dragging away despite how she grabbed his shoulders to stay upright. His muscles felt even better than they looked, solid boulders beneath her fingers. Wow.

  “Odette?” he murmured.

  “Hmmm?” she managed.

  “You still with me?”

  She blinked, struggling through a dreamy fog. “If I said no, would you kiss me again?”

  His laugh was a gentle rumble. “No.” He compounded her dismay by stepping out of her reach, steadying her with his hands instead of his body. “I want more than just your mouth, little rose.”

  She gave him a half-drunk smile. “Like what?”

  She barely comprehended his hand lifting to her face. But oh, how she felt it when he grazed his fingers along her cheek, against her temple, into her hair. “Like what’s in here.”

  She scowled. “Not the answer I was going for.”

  He tightened his grip on her scalp. “But this is where it begins.” For a moment, he dipped a heated gaze down the length of her body. “As much as I long to discover all of this…it doesn’t happen until I learn more of this.” Then he was back to focusing on her face, as if committing her features to memory. Tess swayed toward him, a flower straining for the sun, needing more exposure. More…

  “Then learn me.”

  He sucked in a deep breath, almost as if her words had become his air. As he released it, he snarled. “Damn it.”

  “What?” Her gaze snapped wide. “What’s wrong? Did I mess up?”

  He chuckled. Oh, yes. Chuckled. What the hell? Being with him felt like riding a rubber band. Dark mask but gleaming eyes. Hot kisses and then chaste clinches. Snarls and th
en chuckles.

  “That wasn’t messing up, red. Not one damn bit. You’re just so new. So new. And open, and willing, and…”

  “And what?” Her whisper didn’t surprise her. She was amazed it had volume at all, considering how deeply his words tore at her. He sounded like he was in pain.

  Yep. Rubber band. Wasn’t he Mr. Interested and Intrigued just a minute ago? Hadn’t he kissed her like it?

  “And…well…I’m not new,” he finally answered her. “And I don’t know how to do this in your kind of way. And my kind of way is…”

  He trailed into such a thick, dark growl, Tess wondered if she’d sprung a crimson cloak on her shoulders to match the forest in her imagination, looming around the path she had to take to “Grandma’s house.” Only, she wanted the big bad wolf to devour her—in any way he could imagine. But how to prove it to him?

  The answer blared at her like a shaft of light in that forest.

  And was as easy as tugging the ribbon that secured her own mask.

  She let the covering fall all the way to the floor. Then tilted her bare face up at Sir Sexy, letting him see the surrender in her gaze.

  “Your kind of way is what I came here to find,” she confessed. “So show it to me…please?”

  Chapter Five

  She swallowed. Then again. Both struck Dan as the world’s hugest jokes. He was the one suddenly out of moisture in his throat, air in his lungs, and sense in his head—though he turned and filled her a cup from one of the water coolers positioned around the club before ordering, “Drink.”

  She flung up a hand. “Nice try, but you’re not deflecting me again.”

  “Drink, damn it.” He shoved the cup into her hands. “This isn’t negotiable. My plans require that you be fully hydrated.”

  Her eyes popped wide. She lifted the cup and started to gulp.

  Thank fuck she comprehended the implication of his statement. But of course she did. She was Tess Lesange, one of the most astute and perceptive women he knew—a fact he’d almost been able to forget with the mask layering her identity. With the lacy black cover in place, he could turn her into another person, a saucy little rose he’d planned on bringing to full bloom, spreading her wide before going at her pussy with a vibe wand until she dissolved beneath him. She’d be properly initiated into BDSM but still easy to separate from his lunch buddy and confidante.

  Impossible now.

  Completely, damnably impossible.

  Everything changed the moment she’d resorted to that beautiful display of trust—an exposure that meant a thousand times more than taking off everything below her neck. Ironically, she’d made him damn sure that was going to be next.

  And very doubtful he’d only be going at her with a wand now.

  Fuck.

  It’s your own fault, ass face. He’d practically threatened Max with castration if anyone else went near her. What the hell had come over him—other than feeling like a fire-breathing dragon at his first sight of her? Had his “sabbatical” from dungeon life turned him into an A-class jerk at his first whiff of submissive pheromones?

  Fuck.

  That was exactly the case, wasn’t it?

  Luckily, there was an easy solution here. He’d simply have to follow through—but keep all emotion out of the picture. Cake walk. He’d done it before and could do it again, especially now. Beneath that I-am-subbie-hear-me-roar ensemble, Tess had a body worth zeroing in on, as her tailored office outfits had shown him on numerous occasions. So he’d become her Dominant dream for a night, satisfying what they both needed, restoring the proper balance of nature, and leaving nobody the worse for wear. She’d go home high on endorphins, sighing from memories of her first night beneath a Dom’s rule. He’d be on a cloud pretty close to hers, mind cleared of cobwebs, cock cleared of pressure. Win-win for all.

  Tess’s groan broke into his speculation. “Okay, my eyeballs are floating,” she decreed, setting the cup down. “Happy now, Sir Griffin?” When he gave her a double take, she curled a serene smile. “Don’t glare. My first choice was Hawkface.”

  “Hawkface?”

  “What? You’ve never been told you can eye a subbie like she’s your exclusive prey?”

  Not in a very long time, Ruby. But you make it sound so damn good again.

  Not that the saucy thing needed to know that. Or that her little gibes and jests already stirred heat through his blood and fire through his mind, considering all the interesting methods he could use to tame her “cute” little tongue…

  Or that she’d helped Max Brickham perform one hell of a kinky miracle tonight.

  The bastard had known damn well what he was doing, hadn’t he? Colton, you were made for this. You get this. With that kind of affirmation, was it surprising he’d approached Tess? Now with her standing beside him, so trusting and gorgeous and excited, anticipation surged him as it hadn’t in over a year—transforming Brick’s words to the truth.

  What was the other thing the guy had said? Something about getting back on the bike? More truth—which Dan acknowledged with a provocative growl.

  His eruption flared Tess’s eyes. It prompted his savoring smile in return, giving her about two seconds to comprehend his intent before he acted. A gasp burst from her, high and shaky, as he whirled her around, slamming her back against his body. Another groan rumbled through him in return. Holy fuck. Her ass fit perfectly against his shaft. His cock swelled, pushing at her body, already knowing what it craved.

  This was amazing. She was amazing. So much more than he’d anticipated. A hundred times softer. A thousand times more fragrant. A million times more supple…a billion times more submissive.

  “Good girl,” he grated into her ear. “So damn good.”

  Yeah, yeah; he heard the blares of logic from his brain, blustering that the reaction was just long-overdue Dom space, but he didn’t listen. Right now, the world was his little rose, his perfect ruby—and the submission he’d been a fucking idiot to turn aside. A mistake he wasn’t about to make again. Not tonight.

  “Thank you, Sir.” Her breathy response made him smile. How quickly she’d dropped the griffin and hawk jokes…and embraced her submissiveness. He’d sure as hell pegged it wrong when doubting she’d be happy with all this. There were more layers in Tess Lesange than he ever thought possible, even as her friend. Now, he was so eager to learn those answers…and more.

  “Come,” he said, grasping her hand. Without stopping, he guided her down the corridor toward the private rooms, walking past portals that had been textured to blend with the stone walls. Every door had an Egyptian-themed emblem carved into it, enforcing the sensation of walking through an ancient desert crypt. He guided her past an ankh, a cobra, and an ibis on the left, then a scythe and a pair of jackals on the right. Sounds filtered from behind a few of them. The crack of a whip. The moan of a climax. A merciless bellow. Kneel, boy! Now!

  Tess’s fingers trembled a little.

  He tightened his hold—as his cock jerked tighter.

  He stopped in front of the next door on the right. It bore three stars that cradled a half-moon, poetic deceptions for what the room undoubtedly possessed. Without ceremony, he turned to face Tess, dropping her hand in order to brush knuckles across her cheek.

  She shivered again.

  He turned his hand over, flattened it to her nape. “Scared?”

  Her lips parted. Pressed back together. Fell open again. “Yes.”

  “You know that only makes me hotter.”

  “Then that makes two of us.”

  Christ.

  His fingers clamped harder, digging into the bottom of her scalp. When she sighed and then gasped, arching and showing him the tops of her nipples, he groaned to keep from kissing her again. Couldn’t happen, not out here. When he took her mouth once more, it wasn’t something he wanted everyone in the hall watching.

  Getting the key out of his pocket was torture now that his erection was part of the picture. Once the heavy piece was out, he reac
hed around her and shoved it into the dark hole beneath the wrought-iron handle. But he didn’t turn it. Instead, he lifted her hand to it, curling her fingers around the protruding iron.

  They still shook beneath his touch.

  He got even harder.

  “Open it.”

  Her breath, which had been coming in little spurts, stopped. She couldn’t have given him a better reaction. It relayed that she got it—that she understood it wasn’t just her obedience he demanded but her permission. That by twisting that key, she was acknowledging her consent to step with him farther down into the pyramid—into a dungeon that definitely hadn’t been designed for casual lifestyle dabblers.

  The room they entered was obscenely faithful to that promise.

  An ethereal soundtrack played from hidden speakers, a perfect match to the sepulcher feel. In the center of the room, an altar of sorts was highlighted, ensuring one could see the many chains that hung from rings at its edges. Several chains hung from the ceiling over the round platform as well. To the side, a multi-tiered rack held a dozen melted candles, next to a padded bench rigged with an adjustable spreader. While Tess stopped, transfixed by that, Dan circled his gaze across other equipment—a coffin with creative bondage points, a pair of skeletal gargoyles holding a custom fucking swing, a “mausoleum” that housed at least a hundred implements to make a subbie beg for her punishment—

  Or in this case, more of her truth.

  Ding ding ding.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “Perfect.”

  “What?” She was adorable, jumping a little from his savage underline but getting little goosebumps at the same time. That was just the start of how alluring she was, gawking at everything in the room like a child who’d never seen candy before. She wanted it all but wondered which sampling would give her the biggest stomachache. “Wh-What’s perfect?”

  “You.” It sounded glib, but oh hell, did he mean it. He stepped toward her again, jerking her face up with one hand, tugging her closer by her chin. “Oh, yes.” It was deep and animalistic, grated into the inches remaining between his mouth and hers. “So perfect.”