I’m engulfed in his scent, which might as well be liquid gold, it smells so expensive. He’s warm and solid, hinting of muscles hidden beneath his clothes.
I’m wet. Immediately.
I don’t think this haseverhappened before. Not this fast. I picked a winner tonight.
My heart thumps, and I resist the urge to squirm out of his arms and fist-pump the air.
Fuck, yes. I am about to get exactly what I need.
I close my eyes and pucker for a kiss, waiting for those full, masculine lips to hit mine, but it doesn’t happen. Opening my eyes, I find him staring down at me.
“Hi,” I murmur, fluttering my lashes in the hope it makes me look more like a swooning Disney princess rather than a pouting fish, lips all puffed out and waiting for that kiss.
A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his full mouth.
Crap. I must look like the fish. This is not in the plan. Maybe if I slowly retract my lips, he won’t notice.
His smile widens. “Hey there, stranger,” he says, seeming genuinely amused by me, which I find both flattering and delightful.
But I can’t have him deciding I’m funny and rather than an absolute smoke show, so I grab his hand and tug him through the bar, dodging through the tables where people are settling into drinks. It’s the façadeof civilisation before we cross the threshold into the den, where it all kicks off in the most wonderful display of high-society depravity.
I need to get in there, and I need him to come with me before he changes his mind.
We shove through the dark wood double doors, and we’re immediately swathed in the dim light of the room; a half-darkness where anything goes, punctuated by grunts of pleasure and decorated with naked bodies writhing in the corners of the room. On a raised podium in the centre of the room, naked women are dancing, touching each other, bare skin sliding over bare skin.
He glances over my shoulder, his eyes widening just enough to let me know he’s never been in here before.
This incredible man is a Delirium virgin.
He pulls me into him, letting his hands glide over my body just the way I’ve wanted.
The buzz his touch ignites isinsane.
He manoeuvres me until my back hits something solid; somehow, he’s managed to get me up against a column near the side wall. His hand slides beneath the hem of my tiny dress, rising up my thigh, which he hitches over his hip.
We could fuck like this, right here.
But not yet. I’m taking control. I shift closer, rising on my toes, and kiss him.
Our lips touch, mouths melding to one another. Soft and warm andhungry.
Deep in the recesses of my mind, a warning flares. This feelstoo good.
He breaks off, his voice strained as he whispers, “How often? How often do you come here?”
His hands are still on me, and it’s hard to concentrate on anything else, but I manage a pithy response. “Very often, if I have the right partner.”
His dark eyes flicker behind the mask. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
He sounds… bothered. Vaguely, I wonder if there’s an answer that wouldn’t have bothered him, and then I decide I don’t care.
He kisses me again, his fingers tightening on my thigh. “I need to see you,” he growls against my neck. “Take off the mask.”
“No.”
He skims his lips across my throat, and I tip my head back. To our left, a couple starts fucking. Loudly. She’s screaming a name I can’t make out, her naked tits swinging as a man in a suit takes her from behind. It’s distracting, but my guy doesn’t look away from me. He’s never been here, and there are lewd displays of sexuality all around us, but I’m the one who has his attention. The thrill of it shoots through me like a static shock.
“Why not? Are you famous?” he asks.