Masked Indulgence

by Michelle Love

  “Please,” she begged him, “I want you inside of me …”

  Nik grinned and drew away to strip. She watched him, drinking his incredible body in; wide, thick shoulders, muscled chest and abs down to the slim—but not skinny—hips. As he stepped out of his black boxer shorts, she sighed with pleasure. His cock, standing proudly against his belly, was thick and long, pulsing with desire for her, pre-cum visible on the smooth pink head. Nik dropped on top of her and she gasped, thrilling at the feeling of that magnificent cock against her thigh, nudging at her swollen entrance.

  “I’m going to fuck you now, pretty girl, and you’re going to take all of me, every inch … like this …”

  And he drove his huge cock deep into her. Bronte gasped at his size, at the feeling of being so thoroughly filled, and as he moved, ramming his hips against hers, drilling into her with the practiced strokes of a masterful lover. He didn’t take his eyes from hers once. Bronte lost herself in their lovemaking, knowing she would do anything for this never to end. She felt her climax building inexorably, driven half to madness with desire, and as she came, her body suddenly no longer belonged to her; her back arched and her belly was against his chest and she cried out.

  She felt him stiffen and then his cock, ramrod hard inside of her, exploded with come, spilling his seed deep into her belly. God, yes, she thought, I want every part of you inside me. Nik buried his face in her neck, breathing hard, murmuring her name over and over.

  Bronte wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head down her chest and Nik sank into her pillowy breasts with a groan. Little sparks of light were in her vision as she came down from the high. If I died right now, she thought, I’d be okay with it because nothing, nothing could get better than that.

  “Wanna bet?”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice as he looked up and grinned at her. “I assure you, my darling one,” he said, and his voice had a deep, intimate tone, “it can and will get better than that.”

  Bronte stared at him, her dark brown eyes wary. “How did you know I was thinking that?”

  “I heard your thoughts.”

  Bronte gaped at him. “You can read my mind?”

  He stroked her face, a gleam in his green eyes. “Only when it has something to do with us, my love, don’t worry. Your private thoughts are private.”

  “Except they’re not.” She wriggled out from beneath him and sat up, pulling her wrap dress around her. “What if … what if it’s something private about me, how I feel about myself when I’m with you? You reading my mind gives me no agency, does it? No mystique.”

  Nik sat up and wrapped his arms round her, pressed his lips against her temple. “You don’t need mystique. I’m already hooked.”

  Bronte pulled back to glare at him “You don’t know anything about me, Nik, except my name and what I sound like when I come.”

  Nik grinned. “I know I sound unbelievably arrogant but I have a confession. I knew you’d be there tonight.”

  Now she was getting nervous. “What?”

  Nik rested his forehead against hers. “I see you all the time. Don’t worry. I’m not some freakazoid stalker; my company has an office at the university.”

  So he knew she was a grad student then? He smiled. “Yes.”

  “Stop that.”

  “Sorry.”

  Despite herself, she leaned against him. There was something so safe about him, despite his obvious machismo. “So how can you read my mind? Wait, you’re not some sparkly emo vampire, are you?”

  He laughed out loud. “Most definitely not. Let’s just say … in my position, I’m privy to some state of the art technology.”

  “So you are human?”

  “You appear very unfazed by the thought I might not be.”

  Unconsciously, Bronte’s eyes dropped to his cock, huge even when resting against his thigh. At her glance, it moved, and she could see it begin to swell again. God …

  “Yes, my darling Bronte, I am all human.” He pushed her down on the bed again and she didn’t resist, not able to take her eyes from his cock lengthening and thickening. Nik pushed her legs apart.

  “Let me see you, pretty girl.”

  She felt her cunt swell and knew it would be the deep scarlet of arousal. Nik made a satisfied humming noise which sent shivers up her spine and he bent to lick her, his tongue twisting around her clit then delving deep into her cunt.

  “I want to taste you too,” she begged, and Nik climbed onto the bed so she could suck him while he pleasured her. His cock felt huge in her mouth but she loved it, loved the taste of him, the salty liquid of his previous ejaculation still on his skin. She massaged his sac while she sucked on him, running her tongue up and down the thick blue veins. Soon though, he was turning around and plunging his cock deep into her, hard enough that she gasped at the quick pain.

  She lifted her hips to meet him this time, working together for him to go as deep as was possible inside her. His hands clamped hers to the bed and they panted and groaned and shouted with pleasure as they fucked. No sooner than she had come, he wrestled her onto the floor and fucked her again, harder, her hips almost burning as he spread her legs as wide as he could. He wanted to dominate her, that was clear, but she loved every minute.

  He held her hands over her head while he kissed her ferociously then, just when she thought she could bear no more, he flipped her onto her stomach and fucked her in her perfectly rounded ass. Bronte had never even considered anal sex before but with him it seemed like the most natural thing to do. He wanted to own her and she allowed it.

  Hour after hour it went on, Nik seemingly never spent, but incredibly tender. Eventually she had to beg to stop. “Not that I want to,” she said breathlessly, “but I really am just human and I won’t be able to walk in the morning.”

  Nik chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. “Sleep, my love. We have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

  Bronte stood at the window of their hotel suite and looked over the beautiful city of Helsinki. She could barely believe they were here—or at least that she was here, with her … boyfriend? ... of just a week. Can I call him my boyfriend or is it too soon?

  “No, it’s not too soon—you can definitely call me your boyfriend.” Nik came out of the bathroom with just a towel around himself and grinned at her.

  “Stop that.” But she smiled. The week had been a dream of talking and laughing and sex, endless amazing sex. When he’d asked her yesterday to come with him as he “honored a business commitment” she’d had no idea that had meant spending Christmas with him in Finland. Finland!

  She’d had no time to think about it either, grabbing her passport and a few clothes and calling her adoptive mom in Sydney. Her mom, not expecting her for the holidays anyway—they weren’t that sort of family—had been excited for her.

  “Go, be happy. You deserve it, Bronte.”

  “I love you, Mom. Merry Christmas.”

  Now they were in Helsinki in the most luxurious, expensive, exclusive hotel suite on the day before Christmas Eve and Nik was wearing just a towel. Perfection. She smiled and went to him, breathing in the scent of his cologne and the soap he used. Nik caught her face in his hands and kissed her.

  “You taste so good,” he murmured and she smiled. Her hands were exploring his body, the broad back, the firm chest. Would she ever get enough of this beautiful man?

  “So, what’s the plan for the next few days?”

  “Well,” he said ruefully, “At least some of the time I have to work.”

  “You never did tell me exactly what you do.” She sat down on the bed and starched out on it. Nik joined her, propped up on his elbow, the other hand on her waist.

  “Well … at Christmas my company always does … charity work, shall we say. We help pack and deliver gifts to the less fortunate.”

  “That’s amazing.” Bronte was touched. “So, can I help?”

  Nik had a strange look in his eyes, something between love and regr
et, but he kept the smile on his face. “You want to?”

  “Of course. After all you done for me …”

  “I haven’t done anything for you,” he said, looking away and Bronte frowned.

  “Yes, you have, Nik. I never thought I’d be able to visit a place like this.”

  He was studying her then. “No?”

  She shook her head. “You know what’s funny? I always thought of myself as a hot weather kind of girl but now that I’m here—I like the snow, the cold. There’s something so serene about it.”

  “Further north, there’s no noise pollution from cities or towns and you can listen to the snowfall. It’s the very definition of peaceful.”

  Bronte snuggled into his chest. “Sounds like heaven.”

  He mumbled something she didn’t quite catch. “What was that?”

  He smiled down at her. “Nothing, it’s nothing. If you’re serious, we’ll go up to Lapland as soon as possible. I’ll make the arrangements—you won’t even know we’re travelling.”

  At his words, Bronte suddenly yawned widely and he laughed. “See? We’ll travel overnight.”

  “’ll pack my stuff.” Bronte’s voice was little more than a mumble as sleep overcame her.

  “Ssh, my love, don’t worry about anything. Sleep …”

  She was flying. Or rather, the vehicle she was in, whatever it was, was flying through the night, the air cold on her cheeks, and excitement in her veins. She felt Nik’s arms around her and she didn’t feel afraid or too cold or anything; she felt completely secure. She looked up and the ethereal green and pink striations of the Aurora Borealis stretched across the midnight sky. I have died, I have died and this is heaven … But she had never felt more alive than in this moment, with this man, in this place …

  Bronte opened her eyes and her vision was assailed by a trillion sparkling diamonds. She blinked. The diamonds were set in walls of ice; actually, she now realized, they were the ice of the walls around her. She sat up, speechless. Nik had kept his word; they had traveled and she hadn’t known a thing about it, except … Bronte thought back to the dream, so vivid in her mind still. She slipped out of bed, found warm slippers waiting for her, and was grateful because the floor, like the walls and ceiling, was solid ice. She wondered that she didn’t feel cold at all, just sublimely rested and comfortable. She found her robe hung on the door and shrugged into it, pulling the door open and stepping out gingerly. She found the ice underfoot wasn’t slippery at all. She walked into what looked like a kitchen.

  Nik was sitting at the table, reading, and he looked up and smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.” He stood and took her in his arms. “Welcome home.”

  She chuckled. “This is your home?”

  He hesitated then nodded. “I live here during the winter months. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

  It wasn’t so much an ice house but a palace, and in each room Bronte’s mouth gaped a little wider. It was as if everything was made from crystal and yet it still retained a homely feel. Anything that couldn’t be made out of ice was still the same as back home—except a more expensive brand, of course.

  She had her breath taken away twice by the place; once when they moved through a large blue-tinted hallway where a vast ice fountain dominated the space, and then the next time when they climb to the top of the building where there was a huge domed roof out into which she could see the stars twinkling.

  “It’s still dark,” she said in wonder and Nik laughed.

  “At this time of year, this far north, the sun barely rises. Do you mind that?”

  Bronte shook her head, her eyes shining. “No, I love the nighttime; it’s my favorite time of day. And I love the peace—just listen.”

  Nik looked amused and she chuckled. “Sorry, it’s your home, you would know.”

  ’Our home.”

  Bronte blinked. “What?”

  “It’s our home … now.”

  She went to him and kissed him softly. “Why do I think you’re keeping something from me?”

  Nik just smiled. “Come, let’s go grab a shower then I’ll show you around the … factory? That’s not the right word, but you’ll see.”

  “How are the walls not melting?” she asked as they shared a hot shower together. Nik was washing the shampoo from her hair.

  “Not everything is ice,” he said over the hiss of the shower. Bronte placed her hand against the wall of the shower. It felt smooth but not cold.

  “Glass?”

  Nik shook his head. Bronte’s eyebrows shot up. “Crystal?”

  “Guess again.”

  No. No, it couldn’t be … “Diamond?” Bronte’s voice broke. It wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be. Nik smiled and cranked off the water, pulling a huge fluffy towel from the rack and wrapping it around her.

  “Bronte, here nothing is as it seems.”

  She pulled the towel tightly around her and stared at him. “Including you? Who are you, Nik?”

  He smiled. “I promise I will tell you everything, my darling one.”

  Even so, he was maddeningly slow about it, enjoying her impatience. “I’m trying to build it up for a reason,” he told her and led her across a snowfield to a large barn-like building. He opened the door for her and she was assailed by a rush of warmth, of scents … of Christmas. She looked at him and for a second saw something else in his face, a vision overlying his youthful face—him, older, greyer…

  No. I’m seeing things. She went into the barn to see a fleet of young people, all dressed in big sweaters and jeans, chatting and laughing as they wrapped gifts, then loading them onto carts. Nik introduced her to some of them, and Bronte felt as if they accepted her presence without question. God, this place feels … like home, she thought. She adored it, and now, as she looked around the large barn, Christmas decorations everywhere, she turned to Nik with her eyes alive with excitement.

  “Point me to where you want me, boss.”

  He laughed and took her hand. “Then come with me and we’ll get started.”

  They set to wrapping gifts—and Bronte noticed there was a mix of items for both children and adults. She looked at Nik, who was wrapping a large microwave. He grinned at her.

  “Sometimes, someone just needs a little bit of luck to come their way.”

  Bronte fell in love with him at that moment. “You are a remarkable man, Nik … is it short for Nicholas? Ha, ha St. Nick. You’d make a great Santa Claus, my love.”

  With a shock, she saw him redden slightly and glance at one of the other workers who was watching them. They shared a look Bronte didn’t understand. “What? What did I say?”

  Nik leaned over to kiss her. “Nothing, sweetheart. I’ve just heard that joke a million times.”

  He was smiling but Bronte felt the sting. She wrapped in silence for a time, watching Nik and his co-workers carefully. “Where do the parcels get taken?”

  Nik nodded. “We send out deliveries from here.”

  Bronte tried to get her head around the scale of the operation but gave up. She instead walked around the place, chatting to the workers, most of whom seemed really comfortable with her as if they had known her a long time.

  Late afternoon, and Nik bore her off for some “private” time. “There’s still so much more to do,” she fretted, but he grinned.

  “We’ve got it covered, Bronte …”

  His lips were warm against hers as he led her back to their bedroom and Bronte was already half undressed when suddenly a figure burst into their bedroom.

  A large man covered in furs, with a wild look in his eyes, walked in. Bronte yelped in alarm but Nik steadied her. “It’s okay; he’s my brother.”

  “I’m sorry to burst in, Nik—hi, Bronte—but I had to come straight away.”

  He tugged his hood down and now she could see he bore a marked resemblance to Nik. He grinned at her with the same crooked smile. “You’re looking as beautiful as ever, Bron.”

  She blinked. “I’m sorry …”

>   Nik shook his head at his brother. “Peter …”

  Peter looked between his brother and Bronte and his brow furrowed. “What? I’m sorry; you’ve usually got to the thing by now.”

  “Not this time.”

  “What are you two talking about? Why do you sound like you know me?” Bronte asked Peter, panic creeping into her voice. She looked at Nik. “What’s going on, Nik?”

  Nik looked at his brother. “Can you give us a second?”

  Peter didn’t look happy. “Okay, but look … I have it. I found it.”

  Found what?

  Nik looked shocked. “You have?”

  Peter nodded and a ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Finally. Here …” He handed whatever it was to Nik, who clutched it tightly and kissed it. Bronte was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

  “What is it, Nik?”

  He looked at his brother, who grinned and ducked out of the room. Nik took her hand and led her to the bed. He didn’t show her what was in his hand and it was driving Bronte mad. “Nik, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now …”

  He stopped her with his mouth, kissing her tenderly, deeply. She was breathless when he finally pulled away.

  “Bronte, my darling. The reason Peter talked to you that way was because he does know you. Everyone here knows you. I know you.”

  “Bronte, a long time ago we met and we fell in love almost immediately. We were together for many years, many happy, blissful years. Then someone tried to take you from me, an evil man who wanted you for himself.” Nik stroked her face. “I would not give you up. I swore I would die before that happened. So he took his revenge.”

  Bronte’s breath had frozen in her lungs and she closed her eyes. She knew she should be laughing this off but she couldn’t. Somehow, deep inside, she had known …

  “He murdered me,” she said, not knowing where the words were coming from. Nik nodded, the heartbreak obvious in his eyes.