Masque of Desire Page 2

  He bent down and captured her lips, sucking on them, and she felt the heat in her loins, the undeniable ache and longing for male attention that had been denied her for far too long. As he tongue delved deeper for a taste, she ground her hips up against his cock in a total reflex action.

  He broke off the kiss and rubbed his thumb against her swollen red lips. “Don’t deny me.”

  Miranda shook her head. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  He smiled down at her, a pleased expression on his face. “Anything I want? Are you certain?”

  “Yes,” Miranda heard herself reply.

  “Good.” He leaned in and placed a feathery-soft kiss against her lips. That alone was enough to cause her knees to buckle and her heart to race. He backed away from her then and she hated the feeling of emptiness he left behind. Even though he was only an arm’s length away, she could feel the loss of not having him close.

  He held out his arm, in the old-world tradition, like something from Pride and Prejudice. Miranda placed her hand on top of his arm.

  “Ah, chere, you do this, how you say, like a pro.”

  She giggled. “Like a pro?”

  “The masquerade, you play your role in this masque so well.”

  “And what role is that, monsieur?”

  He leaned in and whispered, “Lover,” so softly it caused her skin to break out in gooseflesh.

  “And what is your role?” she asked, hoping to trick him into divulging his secret identity as Monsieur Valquet.

  He laughed a deep sultry laugh. “Seducer. That is what this night is for.”

  They walked down the hall. Through the partially open doors she could see couples playing their parts in the masquerade all too well. He stopped in front of a door where a man and a woman were making love.

  Unabashedly he pushed open the door and Miranda squeaked and ducked out of the way of the open door.

  Her companion stood in the doorway and seemed alarmed by her behavior. “What is wrong, cherie?”

  “They’ll see us,” she hissed from the shadows.

  “Non, they will not. They only see each other. Nothing else matters to them.” He held out his hand. “Come, I want you to see.”

  She shook her head. You want to look, you know you do, her inner devil said. No, don’t, you can’t, her inner conscience said.

  “Ma chere, you promised me you would do anything I asked.” He gazed into her eyes intently, she felt drawn into to his intense emerald eyes. As if she was pulled deep into his soul. “I’m asking you to come here.”

  Live a little, you’re masked, they’re masked. No one would ever know. The devil voice won out. Miranda slipped her hand into his strong, warm hand and took a deep breath before she acted the part of voyeur.

  Chapter Three

  The sight before her was like something out of a sensuous novel. A fantasy she had secretly longed for, for a long time.

  A woman with alabaster skin and long blonde hair lay spread-eagle on a large inviting bed. Her skin flushed with pleasure as she moaned and writhed in ecstasy as an ebony man drove into her, hard and fast. He had one hand on the bed to steady himself as he fucked the woman on the edge of the bed. The man’s other hand rubbed the woman’s swollen clit.

  As if sensing her presence the man turned and his hazel eyes, sparkling from behind his red velvet mask, bore into her. He looked at her as if he was a hunter and she was his prey. He gave her a long sexy smile before turning back to the woman he was pleasuring on the bed. He quickened his pace. The man’s smile and predator-like gaze heated her blood. She could feel her pulse beating a fast tattoo at the base of her neck.

  Miranda felt herself grow wet watching them. She had never been one for porn. She barely tolerated watching it with her former boyfriends. Somehow this was different, this felt like a show, a seduction just for her. She also acutely felt the need to have a man.

  She needed to feel a man pressed against her. She needed to be filled up, to feel the beating of a man’s heart keeping in time with her own. Her cunt began to ache, a delicious feeling. Her skin began to heat and her cheeks grew hot with a flush as she thought of herself on that bed with her companion driving into her, giving her all that she wanted.

  Without thinking, her hand trailed down over her breasts where her hard nipples were trapped by the strict confines of her bodice. Her hand kept trailing down over her corseted belly to the thick folds of her skirt.

  “I know what you want,” he whispered into her hair as he slid his hand over hers, cupping her pussy through her skirt.

  “What?” she asked.

  He lifted her hand and tugged her toward the end of the hallway where tall mahogany double doors were opened invitingly. She could see the bed as large as two kings, waiting patiently for her there.

  He pulled her inside and closed the doors. He leaned back against the doorway and his green eyes seemed to drink her in as they roamed freely up and down her body. Her ache increased and her clothes felt even more constricting. She felt trapped and she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to be naked. She wanted him naked.

  He didn’t say anything. So quickly he was at her side. As if reading her mind he said, “Allow me to help you.”

  He began to undo the laces of her bodice. She felt immediate release as her breasts were freed. It may have been an old-world design but thankfully Dee had added zippers to the skirt of her mantua.

  “Interesting, such a wonderful little invention,” he said, examining the zipper on the skirt briefly. He smiled up at her. “But it’s not that interesting.”

  He made short work of the voluminous layers of her skirts. She stepped out of them and he tossed them over his shoulder.

  Miranda was surprised at herself. She never, under any circumstances, had the lights on with a new man. She had no shame tonight as he pulled off her shift and she stood naked in nothing but her heels, stockings and a velvet choker.

  “God, you’re beautiful. I’ve waited a long time for someone like you.”

  So Monsieur Valquet wanted to act out the myth of the immortal owner of Violet Hall. Well, she could play along. It might prove to be fun.

  “Yes, I’m sure it has. How long has it been since you fucked a girl senseless?”

  He looked surprised by her words but not deterred. She could see the evidence of his arousal in his breeches.

  “Too long,” he said, his voice cracking. “Now I want to taste you.”

  She felt her knees buckle. “Pardon?” she asked.

  “Taste you. On the bed, ma chere,” he ordered.

  She clambered up on the bed quickly, eager to comply.

  “To the edge and remember you said you would do as I asked.”

  Miranda obeyed him, scooted to the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide. He dropped down to his knees and before she could prepare herself she felt his hot, wet tongue slide down between the lips of her cunt.

  “Oh my god,” she cried out as she propped herself on her elbows to watch him.

  He smiled up at her. “Good, stay like that. I want to watch your face as you come.”

  With his finger he spread her folds and went straight for her clit. With slow, leisurely strokes of his tongue he licked her clit, causing jolts of pleasure to course through her.

  Miranda moaned, she couldn’t help it. The sensations of him licking her pussy and the sight of his tongue licking her clit was such a turn-on in itself. He opened his mouth wide and began to suck. She tensed and as if sensing her orgasm was near, he lessened the pace of his tongue.

  She whimpered in frustration but as she settled down he started with a quick assault again and her pleasure built up inside her until she felt ready to explode. The feel of his tongue in one of her most intimate places, his teeth gently grazing her labia was so sensual, so divine, and it pushed her over the edge. She gave in to her climax. It came fast, it had been too long since she had a man and somehow after tonight a vibrator wouldn’t cut it anymore.

  As the sensatio
ns washed over her a vision came to her of them swimming naked in the river by the moonlight. She couldn’t quite make out the features of his face but she knew it was Monsieur Valquet by the feel of him touching her, holding her.

  She lay back on the bed with her eyes closed and breathing heavy as the last shock waves of the most earth-shattering climax coursed through her. She felt the bed dip and knew that he was lying beside her.

  She opened one eye and he was on his side, propped on one elbow. His finger stroked her arm.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” she asked, playfully rolling on her side.

  His eyes flew open in surprise and he chuckled. “The night is young. Why, are you tired, ma chere?”

  Miranda shook her head. “I promised to do whatever you want,” she whispered. “What is it that you want, monsieur?”

  He leaned over her and kissed her passionately. “What I want is you. That is all. Will you give yourself to me?”

  “I thought I just did?” she answered.

  He frowned and Miranda wondered what she said that was so wrong. He sat up on the bed, his back to her. She sat up, tucking her legs under her. Great, the first sexy man in over a year and you screw it up.

  “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

  He looked at her, his eyes smoldering. “No, it’s me.”

  Miranda sighed and stood up. Well, so much for that. She had messed up a good thing and she didn’t even know how. She walked to where her costume lay in a heap on the floor. She could feel his eyes boring into her back.

  “What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

  “Getting dressed.”

  “Why?”

  Miranda spun around, holding her skirt in one hand. “I thought you were finished with me.”

  He laughed seductively and lay across the bed. “I was promised your utter obedience tonight, that you would do anything that I desired.”

  Yes, thank god! “What is it that you desire?”

  “Ride me.”

  Miranda’s heart beat faster. Ride him. She got an instant mental image of riding him. Instinctively she knew it would be so damn good. She had never been on top before. Of course she was doing a lot of things that she had never done in her life before. It was this Masque of Desire tonight that brought out this nymphomaniac in her and she liked it.

  He stood up and slowly undressed. She watched him peel off his clothes and she felt like she was standing in her most erotic dream. Only it wasn’t a dream, it was real and it felt so good.

  He stood up and tossed his waistcoat over his shoulder. From under his black mask his green eyes fixed on her intently, glittering in the flickering candlelight. Shadows from the flames on the tallow candles licked at his body like a lover’s tongue, like she wanted to.

  She licked her lips, moistening them as they had gone incredibly dry. She wanted to taste him, to run her tongue over his body. She felt the blood in her veins begin to heat, her pulse began to quicken.

  With his eyes locked on hers, he slowly began to undo the buttons on his linen shirt.

  “Well,” he asked. “Will you do me the honor?”

  “What?” Miranda choked, coming out her trance.

  “Would you like to ride me, or shall I ride you?”

  Try it, you never have before, her inner voice told her. “I’ll ride you, monsieur, since you offered so politely. You shall have your turn though.”

  “I intend to, ma chere, I fully intend to.” He chuckled huskily.

  Miranda admired the vast expanse of his smooth chest. His skin was bronzed, probably sun-kissed from St. Tropez or some other exotic French Riviera location. You’re ruining the masquerade. He’s not Monsieur Valquet, billionaire, he’s your lover. You’re his, play the part.

  Still, she could admire his fine physique and it was damn fine. Miranda’s eyes wandered down his rock-hard abs to his tight breeches, where evidence of an erection was stifled under the stretched, taut fabric.

  “Shall I help you with your pants, monsieur?”

  “By all means, help yourself.”

  She seductively strolled over to her lover and ran her hands over his hard chest, her light touch leaving gooseflesh on his bronzed skin.

  “Touch me, ma chere,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Where?” she asked. “Guide me, monsieur.”

  “It does not matter where, ma chere. My pleasure does not matter tonight, only yours.”

  “Why only my pleasure? I’m a good Catholic girl. Do unto others—”

  “You talk too much.” He cupped her face in his rough hands and kissed her. His tongue stabbed past her lips, ravaging her tongue in a toe-curling kiss.

  She pressed her body against the hard plane of his body. His hands left her face and grabbed her hips, pressing them against his hard cock.

  She broke off the kiss, pushing him down against the pillows. Miranda suddenly had the wild idea of tying him down.

  “There are silk scarves in the drawer of the bureau, right there,” he said as if reading her thoughts.

  She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Are you sure, monsieur?”

  “If it is what you desire, then yes, I am sure.”

  Miranda slid the drawer open and pulled out four long, black silken strands. She bit her lip as she slid the strands between her fingers. The coolness of the fabric sent a zing of desire through her. The silk cold, like ice, against her hot skin. She pictured him tied to the bed, naked, unable to touch her while she rode him.

  She leaned over him and wrapped the silk strand around his wrist and tied it tightly to the bedpost. He was smiling up at her, his eyes twinkling behind his black mask.

  Miranda quickly fastened his other arm and then leaned over him.

  “Oh, ma chere, you don’t know how I long to cup your breasts,” he said. Miranda leaned in closer and his mouth found one her breasts. She gasped and felt herself grow wet again as he tongue flicked her sensitive nipple. She groaned and he stopped suckling. He lay back and chuckled.

  “I am at your mercy.”

  “That’s right, monsieur, you are.”

  Miranda slowly unbuttoned his trousers. They were tight and she could see the outline of his erection, pushing against the velvet of the fabric. She paused and ran her finger lightly over the length, stretched taut under the fabric as he moaned. He was so hard—she could hardly wait to feel it inside her. She undid the rest of the buttons and tugged the tight breeches over his hips, revealing his hard, pulsing cock.

  She tossed the breeches over her shoulder and lashed his legs to the posts at the foot of the bed before she leisurely made her way back up to what she most desired.

  She couldn’t believe the size of his cock. She had never seen one so large before, other than in the movies. For one fleeting second she thought that she may not be able to fit it inside her.

  “What are you waiting for, ma chere?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  She smiled wickedly and ran her tongue up the length of his scrotum. He jerked, the headboard creaking slightly from the silken bonds that held him tight.

  “Mon dieu,” he cried out.

  She licked around the head, where a bead of moisture lay glistening on the tip, before she took his entire length into her mouth. She moved her mouth up and down the length of him, sucking him and tasting him. His hips rose involuntarily to keep in rhythm with her mouth and tongue. She could feel that he was close.

  “I want to come inside you,” he cried out. “Please, let me come inside you.”

  She listened to him and removed her mouth. He was breathing heavily, rasping for air.

  “Are you all right, monsieur? Shall I continue?”

  “No, not that way,” he panted. “I want to be inside you. I want to come inside you.”

  She laughed and sat astride him. He bucked up toward her and she pinned him down, her breasts brushing against his chest.

  “I shall control the rhythm of this dance, monsieur.”

  She grabbed his co
ck and guided it to the warm opening of her pussy. She teased him by rubbing his head against her soft lips.

  He was groaning through gritted teeth, straining against the bonds that held him.

  He felt so hard in her hand, so hard against her soft core. She raised her hips and slowly allowed his long cock to sink deep inside her. She shuddered at the feel of him stretching her, filling her.

  She cried out at the feeling of him inside her. The feeling of his rock-hard shaft against her clit.

  “Ride me,” he said roughly. “Fuck me.”

  She raised her hips, pulling herself along the length of him before she impaled herself with it again. She continued slowly, riding him up and down at a slow tempo, luxuriating in the feeling of him buried deep inside her, penetrating her to her soul.

  He was moaning and the headboard was creaking. His muscles were corded and his teeth gritted. She quickened the tempo as she felt her orgasm begin, coming to her in waves.

  She threw her head back, enjoying her ride when she heard a snap. Her eyes flew open in surprise as she felt his hands encircle her waist.

  “I am sorry, ma chere,” he said as he grasped her hips and increased her tempo, holding her down on him.

  She cried out as she felt him throb deep inside her. He made up for his impatience by rubbing his thumb against her clit, urging her to come with him.

  She felt her orgasm build and then explode around her as he came deep inside her. She shuddered, her body shaking as she fell against his chest. Her strawberry-blonde hair fanned against his bronze chest in sweaty tendrils. She listened to him breathe heavily as she lay draped over his chest. She closed her eyes and savored the feel of him under her, the last jolts of an electric orgasm coursed through her. The spicy scent of his arousal caused her blood to heat again. She wanted more, so much more.

  His arms came around her, wrapping her in his warmth and strength. She felt so safe listening to his heavy breathing as he stroked her back tenderly. What are you doing? she thought to herself. Come on, Miranda, what are you doing? You don’t even know this guy, don’t fancy yourself in love with him. This is all an act—he’s your client, for crying out loud. It’s just a masquerade, just for fun.