Visions

by Larkin Rose

  Synopsis

  Paige Burton meets the love of her sexual life at a masked sex party when she's too young to realize how special their connection is. After years of searching for similar sexual bliss, she has officially given up. Now she pours out her frustration via her online blog and by dancing away her frustrations in her club.

  Billionaire architect Mayson Montgomery made her fortune building eco-friendly offshore wind turbines. She learned quickly that money stood in the way of finding a happy ever after. But she still remembers her masked angel years ago.

  When they meet again, Paige doesn't make the connection between her masked lover from the past and Galveston's raunchy rich heart throb. Fortunately, Mayson is a little more aware and won't give up until Paige has fallen head over heels for her.

  Will Paige and Mayson grasp the love in front of them or will they let it slip away a second time?

  Visions

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Visions

  © 2014 By Larkin Rose. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-108-6

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: June 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design by Sheri(graphicartist2020@hotmail.com)

  By the Author

  I Dare You

  No Leaving Love

  Vapor

  The Pleasure Planner

  Kiss the Rain

  Visions

  Acknowledgments

  D. Jackson Leigh, who I can’t thank enough for that amazing reporter scene. Your talent shines bright.

  Jove Bell, for always smacking my ass into action. Or just smacking my ass. You know I like it. A lot.

  Dalia Craig, for your incredible polish through every chapter and your never-ending friendship. I’m forever proud of you and your accomplishments. Told ya you could do it! Love you!

  To Laura: That evil orange cat was for you.

  To my editor, Cindy, you freakin’ rock. Just in case you didn’t know.

  To Rad, for continuing to contract my ramblings. Or the voices in my head. Or are they fantasies? I forget which they are anymore. Just that they’re fun. And that you contract them. Muah!

  To my mom, who I still miss each and every day. I hope you enjoy our hot dog lunches and chats beneath the angel statue as much as I do.

  To my stubborn children and precious (and very rotten) grandbabies. You are my whole world.

  To my readers. As with every published book, every word on every page is solely for your reading pleasure. And my writing pleasure, of course. *wink*

  To Rose. Always. Always. Always.

  Prologue

  Paige took a sip of her mixed drink and scanned the masked women around her.

  The private invitation had stipulated no policy about clothing other than the necessity of masks and the use of a single password, visions, to enter the hotel. After that, straight people would exit the elevator to the left, all others to the right, and no private information would be exchanged between partners, whether in confidence or not.

  She marveled at the variety in style of attire. From tuxedoes, to ball gowns, to simple blue jeans and T-shirts. She assumed the attire differentiated butches from femmes rather than rich from poor.

  Paige had chosen to wear low-waisted jeans and a blouse that opened seductively at her cleavage to give a peekaboo of her lace bra.

  She hadn’t known exactly what to expect from her emotions to attend a private sex party. Hesitation? Maybe even reservation? This was her first time. In this place she would choose or be chosen on visual preference alone. There should be some kind of anxiety.

  Yet there was no emotion or inhibition as she watched the women. She only felt anticipation. Curiosity. Need.

  Right now, those mixed emotions had a target.

  A tall woman sporting a black tailored tuxedo had been cruising the scene for about half an hour, casually walking around groups of women before moving away. Was she a newbie as well? Or was she looking for a flavor she hadn’t yet tasted?

  The foyer was bathed in pale red light, depleting the possibility of making out the woman’s facial features or eye color. What Paige could see made her lick her lips in heated eagerness.

  Tall and proud. Hair slicked back. Carrying herself with a sure strut. Butch in the most perfect places. Just Paige’s type.

  As if mentally summoned, the woman turned and trapped Paige in an unwavering stare. Paige didn’t need to see those eyes to know she was being devoured in someone’s hungry sights. She could feel the mental caress, and her body heated.

  The woman held Paige in her view until she passed behind a trio of women wearing feathered masks and sequined floor-length dresses. She reappeared on the other side, her gaze once again trained on Paige. Electric heat traveled along the path of her nerves, and Paige squirmed.

  She took another sip of her drink to disguise the motion.

  The woman disappeared behind a marble column, and Paige quickly sucked down the last of her gin and tonic, then set the empty glass on the table beside her.

  When she looked back up, the woman was only two feet away, all barbarian-like, her height dominating Paige by a good two inches. Her gaze dipped with a casual inspection and Paige lifted her chin to prove she wasn’t afraid. And she wasn’t. Even if she should be.

  This was it. The moment of decision. Take the leap and step into the unknown, or refuse the offer and get the hell out of this place. Had she come this far to tuck her tail between her legs? Had she gotten this far to let fear control her desires?

  Without a word, the woman extended her hand.

  Paige took a breath, reminding herself she was here for a reason. To be anonymous. Here, she could be anyone she wanted. Or simply, no one.

  Something in that outstretched hand screamed promises. Something in those dark eyes begged.

  Paige slipped her hand into the woman’s and allowed her to lead the way up the wide mahogany staircase and into an empty room.

  The lock engaged with a metallic click that signaled finality. Uncertainty clenched Paige’s gut, slowing her steps as she walked into the heart of the room. A king-size bed dominated the right wall. Two bedside lamps were draped with pink scarves, bathing the room in romantic hues.

  A sixth sense made Paige turn around. The woman was close, hovering like a dream, waiting.

  Paige backed up until the edge of the bed caught her knees. Ribbons of anticipation snaked along her nerves as her masked stranger followed, stalking after her, her black satin mask shielding the features of her face.

  Paige licked her lips in heated expectation.

  This should feel wrong. This should be wrong. There was nothing normal about having sex with a masked person. Yet she only felt her heart sputtering with excitement, and wet heat gathering between her thighs.

  The woman took another graceful step, smooth and dominant.

  Paige tilted her head back, awaiting her command, waiting for the woman to tell her what was expected.
Her gut churned. Emotions awoke.

  Without even touching her, the masked stranger brought her to life. Something vital, something important, that had been sleeping for so long.

  Whatever the emotion was, it was sitting low in the pit of her stomach, coiled tight, ready to rupture. This woman was going to find its hiding spot. Her posture screamed that promise.

  The woman fingered a button on Paige’s shirt. She traced a simple, lazy circle around the edge, then unsnapped it before moving with infinite slowness to another. And another.

  Paige couldn’t stop staring at her, at her black satin mask, wishing she could see the color of her eyes in the dim lighting. What color was her hair? It was short. Obviously dark. Did her features truly matter? No. Yes. No. Maybe. Yes. It did matter. All of this mattered. Yet, in this moment, none of it mattered at all.

  Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? To feel free? To be free?

  The woman popped the last button and pushed her shirt apart. Cool air feathered across her skin. Paige sucked in a hesitant breath as a warm finger followed the heart-shaped design of her bra and dipped into her cleavage.

  She gave a slight push, and Paige toppled backward onto the mattress. Her masked stranger followed, licking and biting and kissing her way up Paige’s stomach.

  Paige stroked her fingers through the woman’s hair, urging her closer, encouraging more.

  The woman smoothed hot, torturous kisses along her neck, down her throat, and into the vee of her bra. “Take it off,” she whispered before her kisses trailed farther down to Paige’s stomach.

  Paige fumbled for the clasps between her breasts with shaky fingers. Every nerve of her body was alive. On fire. She was on fire. This masked woman had awakened Paige, stirred her to life.

  The woman continued down her belly, licking and nibbling while Paige finally managed to unclasp her bra.

  She wove her fingers into the woman’s hair again and urged her down farther. She wanted her jeans ripped open with teeth, then manhandled into submission. She needed this woman to fill her up, make her scream, moan, weep, and then beg for an end.

  Was it too much to ask for sex to make her an emotional wreck? Was it too much to fucking need sex that ripped the soul out of her body, to make her grind in hasty need, to make every muscle in her body tighten?

  When the woman snagged open the snap of her jeans with her teeth, Paige pulled in a shocked gasp. Had she admitted her desires out loud? Had she somehow allowed her fantasy to slip past her lips? She’d wanted to tell her all the things she craved. All the things she would allow. All the things she wouldn’t. Though at this point, she was positive she had no objections to anything.

  The woman lowered the zipper, then curled her fingers into the top of Paige’s jeans and yanked her across the bed. Paige let loose a raw cry, and her insides clenched. Every movement, every touch, drove her wild. She felt as if the woman had read her mind and was playing to her desires and fantasies.

  Then, with a strong grip, she slowly lifted Paige’s hips and ass off the bed by the hem of her jeans. She swirled her tongue in Paige’s belly button for several agonizing seconds.

  Dear Jesus, where had this woman been all her life? She couldn’t have written her any more perfect. The fact that she had no idea what she looked like, that she was having sex with a complete stranger, who could be anything, or anyone, paled in comparison to the heat crawling between her thighs like thick lava.

  The woman lowered Paige back to the bed, then angled over her. Hot kisses slipped along her jaw, across the tip of her chin, and then down her neck, stalling at the hollow of her throat. The sensitive area that drove Paige stupid, the area every lover before tonight had skipped.

  Paige locked the woman between her legs and thrust against her. Her insides tightened and burned as she fisted her fingers into short hair.

  The woman rewarded her by driving against her.

  Paige whimpered and ground her hips, beyond desperate for this woman to make her come.

  The woman scooped her hands into Paige’s jeans and squeezed the cheeks of her ass, and then drove into her once again, using Paige as leverage. Then she drove again. And sweet heavens, again.

  Paige moaned and met her thrusts. She needed this woman inside her, fucking her, pressing to the depths of her. Now. She needed her now.

  She pulled the woman’s head back. Without thinking, Paige kissed her. She wanted this woman to feel her desperation. To taste her desire.

  The woman expelled her own moan as their tongues met, snaking inside each other’s mouths, fighting for territory.

  Paige could feel the woman’s urgency as well. She could hear it in her heavy breathing, and through every thrust of those hips. She pulled back, sucking in gulps of air, and jerked at the woman’s shirt. “Please. Get this off.”

  The woman drew back, flipped Paige onto her stomach, then dragged her jeans and underwear down and off her feet. Then she lay over Paige, pressing kisses into the nape of her neck as she ground into her from behind.

  Paige was consumed with fire and need and an indescribable want. “Dear God. Do it. Do it now.”

  The woman grabbed Paige’s hands and folded them around the bars of the headboard. “Don’t let go,” she commanded in that hot whisper.

  Paige gripped the post like her life depended on it while sparks of heat spiraled along her nerves.

  The woman snaked her hand beneath Paige, kneading her way down into the alcove between Paige’s legs, and then lifted her onto her knees.

  She licked and kissed a wet trail down Paige’s spine and pressed the tip of a finger at her slick opening, circling, teasing, and then whispered, “I want to be inside you.”

  Paige opened her mouth to grant permission, to beg, when two fingers entered her. She whipped her head back and let loose a raw cry. “Oh, fuck!”

  Over and over and over, the woman filled and fucked her, driving Paige into the headboard, her fingers flicking and pulling her hardened clit. Her orgasm scrambled to the razor-sharp edge so fast it blinded her with need. She drove backward, fucking herself over those fingers, desperate for relief.

  And then she came. And screamed. Her insides clenched and pumped around the woman’s fingers. Soft and slow, the woman continued driving into her, reaching the depths, pulling out to the tips, and then driving in again, kicking the orgasm into fresh bouts of thundering wet heat.

  Drained, Paige collapsed against the pillows.

  *

  Mayson fell beside her masked angel. She’d never heard such musical sounds of satisfaction in her life. Those cries had been more beautiful than an orchestra of violins in a symphony.

  She’d known this woman was the one she was meant to spend her evening with as soon as she spotted her backed into a corner, mixed drink in hand, satin mask sitting delicately against high cheek bones. Long hair draped around her shoulders, the soft waves changing formation as she turned her head to take in her surroundings.

  She was the one Mayson wanted to take out of the crowd, the one Mayson wanted to get inside.

  The woman beneath her rolled over, her long hair spilling across the pillow, and captured Mayson’s lips in another fiery kiss. Mayson melted into it, pulling the woman closer to her, inhaling her sweet scent.

  When the woman hummed against her mouth, Mayson rolled on top of her, comfortably fitting between her legs. She pressed her hips forward as the woman locked her between lean thighs once again. She was desperate to be inside her again where it was warm and wet and safe.

  Her faceless goddess thrust up to meet her, her fingers working into the material of Mayson’s shirt with a tug.

  Mayson rose to her knees and dragged the shirt over her head, careful not to disrupt the mask, then lowered herself back to those lips. The woman tasted of gin, and it made Mayson kiss her harder, made her thrust faster.

  Her movements didn’t feel awkward. She didn’t feel a stranger beneath her, kissing her, pumping against her. Everything about her felt familiar. Every
caress, every touch, was as if she knew this woman, had been stroking her for years. She’d expected unfamiliar sex. She hadn’t expected to feel connected. Was it the adrenaline of being somewhere she’d never been before? The rushed high of the unknown, of the mysterious adventure?

  The woman’s response was just as addicting. Every moan, every exhale of breath, was in response to Mayson’s touch.

  She wanted to hear her again. She wanted to create those sounds again.

  The woman bucked against her, tightening her thighs, driving against Mayson. Then she rolled Mayson onto her back and jerked at the button of her slacks before working them down and off her legs.

  She crawled between Mayson’s legs, licking and nipping her inner thighs. Mayson locked her fingers in her long hair and tugged her back up. She wanted those lips again. Wanted to be in control of this woman’s unadulterated sounds. Wanted the feel of her tongue slipping inside her mouth. Then she wanted to pin her to the mattress and slick her fingers and tongue back inside her, to the spot that made her arch and hiss.

  The woman straddled her leg and captured her lips again. Her fingers probed between Mayson’s legs, teasing, then pushed inside her wet opening.

  Mayson arched onto her fingers and tightened her grip around her lean waist. She kissed her harder, driving her tongue against the woman’s.

  Was this normal? This connection behind a mask? Every rushed breath. Every stroke of the woman’s hands. Her fingers. Mayson had never been this connected, like a portal to her soul had been discovered, unlocked.

  *