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The Midnight Masquerade
Copyright © 2013 by Monica Corwin
ISBN: 978-1-61333-532-1
Cover art by Fiona Jayde
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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The Midnight Masquerade
The Edge Erotica Series
By
Monica Corwin
~DEDICATION~
To Shannon. Couldn’t have done it without you.
The Midnight Masquerade
Only one thought came to my mind when I stepped over the threshold of The Black Rose: Holy Shit.
I had never seen so many beautiful people in my life. I’d dressed to impress as the ticket package suggested, and the throng of people around me had seemed to follow the invitation instructions as well. There were at least two hundred people milling around and the place spanned about two department store lengths. My shoes added to my height but even so, I stretched to see over the crowd. Although I’d planned to meet my best friend there, we hadn’t actually discussed where to meet.
“Ladies and gentlemen!”
Looking around, I located the man speaking on the stage. Dashing in white tails and a Casanova mask, he beckoned the crowd closer. I followed the flow of traffic and waited. He bowed low, flicking back the tails before standing upright again.
“It is my honor to welcome you to The Midnight Masquerade. As this is a private club, anything can happen behind these walls, but there will be no forced activity here. We will not be playing Clue.”
He paused while the crowd chuckled.
“There are only two rules: first, no one leaves. There are guards at the doors who will release you should there be an emergency.” He gestured to the men at each exit inside the vast room. “You have all signed confidentiality and liability agreements and are expected to heed them. The second rule: the masks are not to be removed until midnight.” He bowed again. “Enjoy yourselves!”
The lights winked out above the stage and the man was gone. Shaking my head, I started sorting through the crowd to find Ben. With everyone in masks, finding him would be a pain, although most likely, he’d be the lone overweight man there. Everyone else appeared to have the bodies of Pilates instructors.
Ben is very attractive, but let himself go a little after his wife died three years earlier. At the thought of Jamie, I sent a silent prayer up to her before moving toward the bar for a glass of champagne.
Sitting on the velvet-covered stool, I perused the selection. According to the menu, I could eat, drink, and be merry enough for fifty people. Slipping the card back into the holder on the bar, I waited for the attention of the servers when a breath caressed my ear.
“I like your shoes.”
I glanced down at my feet. Four and a half inches of black sequins on a stiletto heel embellished with black sequin skulls. My favorite pair.
I smiled at the stranger. He wore a half mask, his eyes the color of honey, his lips plush and kissable. Holy hell, my night just became otherworldly.
“Thank you. My mom picked them out for me and everything.”
He grinned and a flush of heat coursed up my neck.
“You are simply stunning,” he said.
I continued to blush. “Thank you.”
Taking the empty seat next to me, he snapped his fingers and a bartender came running. Why hadn’t I thought of that? He ordered us some champagne before settling back on his own stool.
“So who did you kill to get your tickets tonight?” I asked, playing with the stem of the glass.
“I didn’t kill anyone. I am the proprietor of The Midnight Masquerade.”
I laughed out loud. Of course he was. Supposedly the most desirable bachelor on the Eastern seaboard, Ashton Kane set the hearts of girls from thirteen to one hundred aflutter with a simple smile. Why was he talking to me?
“Well, Mr. Kane, how is your night going so far?” I took a very large swig of my drink to avoid his intense gaze for a moment.
“It’s wonderful. Always is.” He stopped speaking and continued to stare at me.
Unused to such scrutiny, I ran over the things in my mind like topics of conversation, anecdotes, even knock-knock jokes and came up with nothing. Cheese: the only thing coming to mind. I watched a movie once where a girl said you can start a conversation that way, but I definitely didn’t think cheese was any part of his diet.
“I apologize; I’m not a very good conversationalist.”
“I am just enjoying watching you try though. You seem...uncomfortable.”
Nail. Head. Bullseye.
“I have to be honest, I am a little. I was supposed to meet my friend here tonight, he got the tickets, but I haven’t seen him yet.”
He smiled. “You have me at a loss. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”
Embarrassment bloomed in my chest. “My name’s Hannah.”
“So Hannah, it’s not me making you nervous?”
“Well, a little.”
“May I ask why?” He leaned in closer. The air around him seemed to sizzle and he smelled like rain, fresh rain.
“I’m not sure why you’re speaking to me. My hair isn’t blonde, I don’t live at the gym, and I’m not dressed in spandex.”
He furrowed his brow. “Maybe I like real women.”
Oh shit, I’d offended him. Would he kick me out now or before the appetizers made it my way?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean....”
“You didn’t mean what? To put yourself down, or insinuate I am a picky asshole who only likes fake stick figures?”
I drank the rest of the cha
mpagne in the flute and made to get out of the stool. He grabbed my arm as my heels hit the floor.
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere private so I can stick my head up my ass some more? Want to join me?”
He laughed, releasing me.
“I’d love to and it so happens I know the perfect place.”
He parted the crowd without even trying, like Moses parting the Red Sea. It just moved out of his way. I followed a step behind until the empty space around the periphery of the room spread out before us. He interlaced his fingers with mine, tugging me forward. A private alcove nestled in a corner, surrounded by plush, deep couches and thick velvet curtains, all in contrasting colors of black and gray. With what I heard usually happened at the club, they might want to rethink the color scheme.
Somehow, I’d made it to one of “the boxes” with Ashton Kane. Ben would never believe it when I told him. I wished I’d had more to drink then maybe I might be a little smoother, more charming.
He drew me down beside him on the couch and ran a fingertip along the edge of my mask. It only covered my eyes and the top of my nose, but the detail work was exquisite. My whole outfit had been planned around it. Achingly slow, he removed his fingers and put them down in his lap. I stifled a whimper at the loss of that phantom touch.
“You look like someone kicked your puppy.”
I smiled, despite wishing he would return his hands to my face. “I liked that.”
Shifting so his knees aligned with mine, he traced a digit across my bottom lip. I stopped myself from sucking it in. There must have been something in the air because I wanted him, more than I had ever wanted another man. He continued to caress my top lip and my breathing started getting heavy, my panties already wet.
“You like that?” he whispered.
I nodded, not wanting to speak so he wouldn’t stop.
“Where else do you want me to touch you?”
“Anywhere you want.”
He trailed his hand around and grasped my nape, his skin hot against mine. I leaned my head back, waiting for a kiss. Slowly, oh so slowly, his lips met mine in a feather light caress. So soft it could have been the wind if it weren’t for my awareness of his skin on me. The unexpected gentleness turned me on even more, though I wanted him all over me, ravaging my lips until they were numb. A girl can dream.
When he moved away, a coolness remained, a tingling, even in the warm room. My body warred with my brain. It told me he was a stranger while my clit pulsed with the heartbeat raging in my ears. I needed to get my bearings and make a decision about my boundaries for the evening and how far I might go. Standing up, attempting to retain some dignity and not melt into a puddle at his feet, I wobbled on my heels until he steadied me.
“I’m going to the little girl’s room.”
I ran away before he could say anything. In one of the private bathrooms, I gave myself a pep talk, the usual ‘go team’ mantra before freshening my lip gloss and stepping out into the corridor. Decisions are always hard for me since I need to think about every detail, every consequence. This one didn’t take much deliberation.
I fluffed the curls already starting to fall, swept them over one shoulder, and headed to the alcove. Showtime.
When I parted the curtain, my stomach dropped; Ashton was gone. Stunned, I let the fabric fall. I wanted to puke. Did I take too long?
Melting into the crowd, I headed to the bar. Oh well. A shot of tequila would improve the sudden flag in my mood. Remembering Ben, I smacked myself on the head and wished I had my cell phone to call to check on him.
Back on the familiar stool, I snapped my fingers at the bartender. He gave me an annoyed huff but the shot arrived fast enough, along with its friend, Vodka. Surrounded by dancing, kissing, and general revelry, I watched the crowd, the couples, and the people trying to turn into couples. Masquerades always seemed so romantic to me, a way to start fresh all over again.
Continuing to glance around and off to my right, I found two men making out against a wall. I tried not to stare and failed miserably. They were both gorgeous. My mouth hung open. The heat inspired by Ashton before didn’t compare to the need spiking through me as I watched the men devour each other.
One of the men roamed a hand down the other’s butt and gripped it hard. The icy shock of recognition hit me: Ashton had found someone else to play with. Each pass of his hands igniting me in new and refreshing ways, I didn’t even get a blip on my gaydar, and gay men do not touch woman that way.
The laughter bubbled up from my belly even with my attempt to hold it down. The tabloids never mentioned anything about him being gay. How could I have been so stupid, thinking he wanted me? I turned to my drink and remembered cupping that amazing ass.
They were like diamonds sparkling in a display; I glanced over again—needing another peek. The men broke their kiss, the sexual tension clogging the air around them.
Ashton chose that moment to cast his eyes my way. Caught. A rush of heat coursed through me, both arousal and shame. I fixed my gaze firmly on my drink until the scent of fresh rain surrounded me.
I didn’t move, just waited for him to enter my field of vision. Giving him a smirk, I inclined my drink toward him.
“I compliment you on your choice. That man has an ass you can bounce quarters….” A chuckle from behind interrupted me as I made an even bigger fool of myself. I turned toward the other man with a sheepish smile.
“What are you drinking?” he asked.
I peered at the bubbling concoction. “Vodka, tequila, and champagne.”
He leaned down to hear me above the crowd and the scent of a summer thunderstorm instantly replaced Ashton’s. He smelled like ozone and spice, an erotic mix.
Ashton turned my stool around so I faced him, spreading my knees before stepping in the space he created. I inhaled sharply. He had balls and was so lucky I still wanted him. Removing the glass from my grip, he set it on the bar then pulled me to the edge of the chair by my hips, the black tulle of my dress bunching up around his wrists. With my crotch almost flush with his, I wanted to close the distance between us. Thankfully, I controlled myself.
No pithy retort came to mind quickly enough, he captured my face and kissed me, hard. His lips held an edge of brutality that forced me to grip his arms for support. After only a few moments, Ashton released me and my moan fell into the murmur of the crowd. The stranger crowded closer behind me and ran his hands down my bare arms, brushing the sequins of my bodice with his fingertips. The men’s scents mingled together around me creating a bubble, cocooning me in male skin and the heady tension of sexual awareness.
I pushed Ashton away and climbed out of the chair. I didn’t talk, beckon, or meet their eyes; I simply walked to the alcove I had previously visited. Whichever one followed me could have me.
I sat on the velvet couch and waited. Ashton stepped through the curtain and I smiled. Moments later, the stranger did as well. Seems I had a decision to make. Perhaps I’ll take both of them.
I assessed them, tilting my head to the side, taking in every delicious angle of their amazing bodies in those tuxes. The long-limbed stranger had big hands and a buzzed head, but wore a demi-mask, covering all of his face above his chin. His lips mesmerized me, full and plush, begging to be kissed. His body contrasted with the softness, nothing but hard lines beneath his clothing. I beckoned, patting the empty place on the couch next to me.
He came over and sat, angling his torso toward mine. I loosened his bow tie before his top buttons, baring his throat to my view. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Shifting, he brought his hands up, to my face as a slight tremor ran through him.
“Let it go. I can take what—”
Before I even had all the words out he crushed me to him, lifting me off the couch and onto his lap. He kissed me with surprising brutality and I anchored myself to his lap, my legs around his waist. Forcing his tongue past my lips, hard and demanding.
My brain clouded in a lust-f
illed haze and no part of me wrapped around him hard enough or close enough. We battled with hands, teeth, and tongues, both claiming each other as savagely as we could. With a groan, he pulled away, breathing hard. At that point he could bend me over the table and take me. My soaked panties were flush to the erection in his dress pants.
All but forgotten, Ashton reminded me of his presence by rubbing his own erection up my spine. The realization I didn’t know the stranger’s name hit me like a punch to the gut. I bit my lip, heat infusing my face from the embarrassment.
“What’s your name?”
He reached out and ran his palm along the tent protruding from Ashton’s pants. His head came alongside my ear.
“You can call me Eros.”
I laughed. “Like Cupid? So you don’t want me to know then?”
He just smiled, brushing my sensitive ear with his lips. I inhaled at my singing nerves.
“Then you can call me Psyche.”
Another chuckle against the skin of my neck while the rustle of Ashton’s pants behind me dragged me further under the seductive spell.
“Who does that make me? Adonis?”
We both turned to Ashton, who watched Eros continue his ministrations. When he let out a groan, I wanted him all over again.
Eros’s hands returned to me, sliding up from my hip to my breast. I closed my eyes and waited. He cupped the right one, squeezing and kneading it. I found my bodice bunched down to my waist before I even realized his intent. His warm mouth circled my nipple and a jolt rocketed through me, straight to my center.
He bit down enough to get my attention and I clutched his arms, trying to find harbor in an gathering storm of assaulting sensations. Every single inhale brought more pleasure. Ashton sat on the other side of me, the couch dipping with his weight but it barely registered with Eros working my breasts.
I kept my eyes closed and savored the wet heat of Eros’ mouth on my skin. At the sound of a zipper sliding down, my eyes popped open. Ashton inclined on the couch, cock in hand, watching us.
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