by Violet Blaze
“I think you should wear that sheer leopard print top I picked up from Neiman Marcus for you. Pair that with a pair of black leggings, some sexy heels. I'm thinking those Louboutins you wore to Dad's birthday party.”
I try not to make a face as I step inside the lobby and nod my chin at the security guard. I'm tempted to take the stairs just so I don't have to be trapped in the elevator with my little sister, but then I figure she'll end up following me. The idea of her voice echoing in the stairwell is just … no.
“I'm wearing the Target dress,” I say and her face gets this funny pinched look to it. Hal is naturally thin and kind of horsey looking in the face, so when she gets that expression, it's gruesomely exaggerated. She looks like she's about to have a tantrum. “Fine. Compromise? How about that cream colored dress with the V-neckline?”
Hal raises one of her blond brows at me.
“And I'll pair it with those black lace Sophia Webster heels?”
Now I get a smile.
“Done and done,” Hal tells me, a smirk blossoming on her face. Now if I can just manage to avoid having her pick out my underwear, we'll be in good shape.
I should know better than to dream so big.
The dress I'm wearing is cute and it fits great, but it's so short and I find myself constantly checking my butt to make sure nothing's falling out. It falls several inches above my knee, leaving my legs completely exposed. Oh, and my arms? Those are entirely out in the open, too, the single heart tattoo on my wrist invisible beneath the cluster of bracelets I slipped on.
“Please, come in and take your pick,” a man at the front door says after he checks the guest list and, unsurprisingly, finds my sister on it. She's used our family connections to her advantage her entire life and knows everybody.
I stare at the guy in his glittering green snake mask. I hate to admit it, but it's beautiful, chic, not at all like I'd imagined in my head. In fact, the array of masks on the silver trays in the attendants' hands are all works of art, probably designed by some famous artist or something. I bet each one's worth a fortune.
I move into the front hallway of the massive house, unsure as to who it actually belongs to. Hal said some woman named Rochelle lives here, but as far as I know, I'm not acquainted with any Rochelles. What I've come to realize through all my sister's meddling and dragging me around is that while lots of models and celebrities come to these things, it's usually the super-super rich who pay for them—people like Walter's twin sister, Anise. People with money from oil drilling, banking, diamond mining … or growing GMO corn crops apparently.
I blink those thoughts away as I move down the row of men and women in black and white tuxes, their silver serving trays positioned in front of them, held still as statues. Each one has several masks arranged on it. They range from exotic gold and black tiger masks all the way to deathly gorgeous skulls and couture zombie masks.
Each one is heavy, inlaid with jewels and attached to heavy duty leather straps. As each guest selects a mask, the attendant places it around their face and escorts them through the double doors at the end of the room. It's all very mysterious.
“Have I ever mentioned I love knowing you?” Ariana asks as she picks up a gray and white mouse mask with tiny ruby eyes and lets a woman in white gloves put it on for her. Hal goes for the most ostentatious thing she can find, slipping on a rainbow mask with fluffy white sequined clouds on the cheeks.
Me, I go for simple and easy, selecting a pale cream and white butterfly mask. But as I'm hefting it into my hands, I realize what I'm actually doing here. I'm settling. Again. Although marrying a rich, handsome guy like Walt isn't settling, is it? Is it?
Without a second thought, I drop the mask back in place and start my search from the beginning. Stag, elephant, spider, sun, moon. None of the masks seem right, not until I get to a golden lion in the back. It's fur is comprised of tiny polished stones, each sewn securely into place. The whiskers are long and curled at the ends, the eyes a brilliant blue that will blend in with my own.
“The lioness,” I say as I pick it up and rub my thumbs along the sides of the mask. As soon as the attendant secures it in place, I take a look at myself in one of the mirrors that line the hall. I'm completely unrecognizable. Everyone is, even Hal and Ariana. If it wasn't for their clothes and hair, I might not know it was them.
Wow.
The rush of freedom is overwhelming as I reach up and feel the mask covering my face. Tonight, I can be anybody I want. I can be a lioness.
I feel myself grinning as we're shown to the end of the hall and into a foyer where another masked attendant—an elegant designer giraffe this time—is taking coats.
“Ah, see, look. You're smiling already,” Hal says with a smirk that's only slightly less annoying with the bright colors of the rainbow mask. “Mission accomplished. Told you this would be swag.”
The doors of the foyer open and the hopping, writhing pulse of the room comes into stark focus. This might be like a masquerade ball, but I was more thinking glasses of wine and ballroom dancing and lords in suits. Maybe I'm the old-fashioned one.
The room is lit with gold and white stars, flickering across the crowd from projectors attached to the ceiling. In one corner, a DJ blasts Skrillex while people grind and gyrate all over each other. I head straight to the bar for a drink.
“Best part about these things,” Ariana shouts in my ear. “All the drinks are free.”
“What can I get you, pussycat?” the bartender asks as I raise my eyebrows at her, the expression hidden behind my mask.
“Two rum and cokes,” I say and the woman laughs, like she's trying really hard to match up to her hyena mask.
“Two rum and cokes. Okay, you got it.”
The bartender grinds and dances as she lifts up two bottles of rum and does a free hand pour in time with the grinding rasp of the music. When she hands us our drinks, they're far more rum than coke, but that's okay because I'm determined to have a good time tonight.
“Dance with me?” Ariana asks with a pout. “I'd feel guilty getting down and dirty with some of these shirtless boys weeks before my wedding.”
I grin at her and abandon my drink, letting her take me by the wrist and pull me into the center of the crowd, underneath a glittering rainbow chandelier.
We move and sway together, Ariana taking the occasional gulp off her drink until it's empty and a masked waiter appears like magic to whisk it away. Minutes later he appears with a new one. Ariana's shouts and laughter relax me, getting me into the moment, helping me let go and meld with the sweaty warm bodies around me, people pressed up on all sides.
Part of me tries to hate this, to tell myself I'm too old or too curvy or too crappy of a dancer to be here. Should I be playing the high bred wife like my stepmother? Melting into my role as Walt's other half? This doesn't really seem like a place or an activity he'd approve of.
When a guy in a German shepherd mask appears and invites me to dance, I jump in headfirst.
We follow the motions of the crowd, like waves in an ocean, stirred up by the wild storm of the music. My hands slide up the guy's glossy midsection as he puts his on my hips and pulls me close. In the corner of my eye I can see Hal surrounded by men (and a few women), the center of attention as always. Doesn't bother me though. I am so in this moment.
The song changes to “Purple Lamborghini” and my dog masked partner spins me around, dancing with my back to his front. I can see the whole crowd like this, a glittering sea of jewels and designer dresses. But the masks are so big and so fancy, it's like the playing field is leveled. We are all actresses and heiresses and dancers and lionesses in here.
It's fantastic.
As soon as that song ends, “Bonfire” by Knife Party starts playing. I'm still enjoying dancing with my new guy friend, but as the crowd shifts, I spot a gleaming golden mask not ten feet away from me.
Oh my God.
There's my lion.
A man with abs twice as sculpted and perfect as the guy behi
nd me grinds on a blond girl in a cheetah mask, the mane of his own mask a brilliant spray of red and orange and gold around his dark hair. His pants are black, his midsection bare and golden with a delicious sprinkle of dark hair trailing over his belly button. His right arm is wrapped in a white bandage but the dips and swells of his biceps are mesmerizing.
“Excuse me,” I shout at the German Shepherd Guy. Whether he hears me or not doesn't seem to matter; he moves onto a group nearby and joins in their dance. I swim through the crowd, edging between couples who look like they're fused together, working my way carefully through the throng until I'm mask to mask with the lion. “Hey.”
That's all I have to say before he's abandoning his cheetah friend in the pink dress and moving over to stand next to me. His fingertips trail up my sides and I shiver, a wicked electric spark darting through the dress and into my skin. Oh. So much better than German Shepherd Guy.
Lion takes my hips and urges me into his rhythm, his pelvis moving in a suggestive way that gets my blood thumping hot and my pulse surging. I feel dizzy and excited suddenly, in a way I haven't felt in ages. Maybe this silly party is exactly what I needed. Lion Man traces his palms over my arms, his skin barely brushing the fine hairs on my biceps. Goose bumps spring up everywhere as I sway to the song and imitate the movement over his bare chest, grazing the hard points of his nipples.
A waiter moves by and I grab another drink; Lion does, too. We both down the liquid, one of his hands on my lower back, our hips moving sinfully close. Even through the salty smell of the crowd, I'm breathing this guy in. He smells like bourbon and vanilla and oak, this heady warm male scent that pushes all my buttons.
Part of me wants to ask him his name; the rest of me doesn't care.
I try to examine his face through the mask, but all I can see are the dark liquid spots of his eyes and the generous curve of his mouth. His stubble is thick and dark and reminiscent of someone … the alcohol is buzzing in my veins and I'm not thinking as clearly. My movements get a little more … forward.
And so do his.
Hands cup my ass, kneading the flesh as my dress rides up and I dig my fingers under the waistband of Lion's pants. When he leans in and breathes hot against my neck, I tilt my head to give him better access. Warm lips, tongue, a scalding whisper of promise that I can't resist.
Lion reaches down and takes my hand, pulling me towards the edge of the crowd.
I can still see Halcy in a circle of admirers, being worshipped like a goddess, but Ariana is nowhere to be seen. I figure she's probably at the bar again and decide that for right now, I need to do me. I always try to do everybody else, make everybody else happy.
This is my night.
Lion leads me down a hallway, past couples kissing, their backs pressed against walls, their masks still in place. When we get to a door near the end and Lion opens it, I follow him inside. My body feels warm and my heart is racing in my chest, making me feel alive and electrified. Music pumps into the bedroom from a speaker in the corner.
I watch as Lion locks the door behind him and pulls me close, the velvety front of my dress brushing up against his sweaty nakedness. He's tall, but so am I, so it doesn't take much to lean close, to feel his breath against my mouth.
I wonder briefly if the masks will get in the way, but then decide I don't care; I'm not taking mine off.
Lion lifts his fingers up and smoothes his knuckles along my jaw, drawing my mouth against his. The soft skin of our lips meets in a blazing inferno, one that makes my knees feel weak and quite literally stops the racing of my heart. I'm so shocked by the feeling of his mouth pressing into mine that I don't think I breathe or beat for a whole minute.
When that tongue of his slides expertly into my mouth, I melt, my hands coming up to his chest. He stops me an inch away, wrapping his fingers around my wrists and holding us apart. He urges my tongue to move against his, to dance the way our bodies were dancing only minutes ago.
Is this cheating on Walt? I wonder as the man makes love to my mouth with his slick, hot tongue. His smell is even stronger in here away from the crowd. It's deep and welcoming, strong and steady. I want to wrap it around my shoulders like a blanket.
A small moan escapes my mouth, blends into a masculine roar that growls from his in response. The masks don't touch at all, like they were designed to be worn while kissing. Hell, maybe they were?
Lion Man kisses me through three whole songs, pausing at the next and drawing away. When he lets go of me and starts walking backwards toward the bed, I follow.
The room is swathed in reds and golds and creams, an opulent palace of sin that my alcohol addled brain really likes. It feels luxurious and joyously sinful, like it was made for moments like this. Again, probably was.
Lion Man pauses with his thighs pressing into the bed, still facing me, and starts to undo his tight black jeans, the small black tattoos on his hips revealing themselves as he peels the fabric down his body, kicks off his boots and rises up to stand there in nothing but a pair of silver boxer briefs. They look lush and sexy stretched over the hard bulge beneath them. I want my hands all over that. Did I just think that?! This mask is making me crazy, the lioness taking over as I reach down and grab two velvety handfuls of my dress, drawing it over my head and tossing it aside.
Normally, I have a thing about getting naked in front of people. I'd rather do it in the dark with most of my clothes still on. But this … I feel okay right now. Better even when Lion's gaze rakes my body from head to toe, a slow easy smile bleeding across his mouth.
Oh.
I glance down and remember that I'm wearing that stupid lingerie that Hal ordered me from Frederick's. This is the one place she approves of black, in a fancy scalloped bra and matching panties. Personally, I prefer easy cotton and smooth t-shirt bras but right now, I'm ridiculously grateful to my bratty little sister.
I let my curves show as I move towards Lion Man in my heels, pausing as he reaches over to the table and slides open a drawer. Inside of it is a mountain of condoms. So that is what this room is for.
There's a second there where I almost pull back and grab my dress, sprint out of there and let my doubts and fears ruin another night. But then Lion Man settles those big hands of his on my hips and that strange fiery tingle starts up in all the places his fingers press. His touch urges my body forward until the softness of my breasts are pressed up against his solid chest. He leans down again, brown eyes sparkling and kisses me, tasting me with his delicious mouth. Maybe he was drinking bourbon tonight because his smell matches his taste.
Lion Man takes the lead, pulling me onto the bed and settling himself on top of me. His body is a solid weight as he kisses his way across my collarbone, his hands and mouth moving in time with the bass beat of the blaring dubstep. I can feel his touch vibrating in my bones like a good song, like an anthem.
His golden mask glitters as he drops his lips to my belly, drawing a slick hot trail down to my belly button and over my lacy panties. The stubble on his face scratches over my smooth skin in an intriguing way, making me shiver and writhe, my back arching off the bed like I'm dancing. When he goes to remove my panties though, I grab his stubbled chin and pull him back to my mouth.
We kiss again, mouths moving along jawlines, masks bumping as we navigate the unfamiliar shape and taste and smell of each other's bodies. My hands sneak down between us, rub across the silky texture of his boxer briefs, over the hard warmth hidden inside them. When I dip my fingers under the waistband, he doesn't stop me.
Holy crap!
This guy is … huge. Way bigger than I thought at first glance—and I thought big. My fingers curl around his shaft as he growls another lion's roar and thrusts into my hand. The thin hair on his chest and belly rubs against my nearly hairless smoothness, my naked legs tangling with his rough ones. I can feel the chorus of muscles in his body sing and stretch and bunch as one. This guy is far more athletic than anyone I've ever been with. He feels like a tank.
&nb
sp; Our bodies rub together as I jerk him off, sliding my hand along the sweaty warm velvet texture of his cock. It's so big, I'm a little intimidated. As if he can read my thoughts, Lion Man takes one of my breasts in his hands, using his other arm to hold himself half-propped, half-laying across me. He works the tender flesh with his hand, the touch like a string attached to my core. My thighs clench and my hips rock with want against his bulge as he draws the lace down and drops his hot mouth to my nipple.
Teeth graze across the pebbled flesh as he tastes me, savors me like I'm dessert.
It's the hottest thing I've ever been a part of.
When he draws back and pulls away, my hand slips from his boxers and moves to my clit, touching the hardened point through my panties. Lion Man watches me as he shoves his gray boxer briefs down his hips and slides them off his muscular legs. When he adjusts himself and I see the full glory of his erection, I gasp.
He's big and thick with a gentle upwards curve and a proud, slick head.
I want him inside of me now.
A new song starts up, pinging and pounding through the speakers as Lion Man opens the condom and slides the latex over his shaft. I'm afraid it's not going to fit, but whoever stocked these rooms must've planned well because the condom works, wrapping that thick proud shaft nearly to the base.
This time, when he reaches for my panties, I let them go, lifting my hips so he can pull them down and off, tossing them aside as he positions himself above me and tests my wet core with his fingers. It's slick and ready and pulsing in anticipation as he eases two fingers in to the knuckle and draws them slowly back out. My eyes water as I stare up at the burgundy canopy above our heads, feeling the vibrations of the crowd and the music through the floor.
My hands slide around his neck, lifting up to dig through the thick darkness of his hair as he withdraws his hand and positions the head of his cock at my opening.
We exchange a long, lingering look, my blue eyes staring into his.
With one long thrust he enters me, fills me up, makes me gasp.