by Desiree Holt
She lifted one shoulder in what she hoped was a delicate shrug. “I only have tonight so I have to work fast.”
“Why? Do you turn into a pumpkin?”
Worse. An ugly toad.
“No. Just an ordinary person.”
“Why do I have the feeling there really isn’t much ordinary about you?”
“You’d be wrong to think that. But for tonight,” she gestured at herself, “for tonight I can be the mysterious seductress who woos the devilish pirate.”
“I think I need to get us a drink.” His hand rested briefly on the column of her neck. “After all, can’t have a good seduction without a proper drink, right?”
“I guess not.”
“Wine, right?”
She laughed. “And this time I’ll try not to spill it on you.”
He bent his head to her again. “If you do I’ll just have to make you lick it up.”
Visions of that sent a shiver skating over her skin and cream soaking her bright-red thong. Oh, she definitely wanted her mouth on hm. His chest. His nipples. Every inch of his skin. His cock. She shivered again. Tonight she wanted to act out every fantasy she’d written about in her erotic romances.
This is really going to happen.
If I don’t screw it up.
Clay waited as patiently as he could to get to the bartender. He wanted to fetch the drinks and get back to his tiny piece of paradise in the corner of the ballroom. Where the hell had she come from, this lady in red? And why had she sought him out? Had bumping into her just been an accident or had she manipulated it? Set her sights on him and planned it?
Oh, yeah, right. How big is your ego, dipshit? With all the men wandering around in this room she deliberately sought you out?
Okay, accident then. He’d have to pay homage to the goddess of fate. If the night turned out the way he hoped, of course.
She felt so delicious in his arms, soft and curvy, not like the lean women he usually dated whose bones clanked with his. So why the hell did he keep going back to them if he found them so distasteful?
Because all men think with their dicks and their dicks have been taught that tall and thin is the badge of honor.
Well. Whoever thought that up is fucking damn stupid.
Because feeling Miss Red Dress in his arms, her soft breasts pushing against the wall of his chest, letting his hand drift to that luscious curve of her ass had him hard enough to drive railroad spikes. Just dancing with her had him mentally stripping that red dress from her body and imagining the creamy skin beneath. He wondered if the curls on her pussy were the same rich shade of gold as those piled on top of her head.
“Sir?”
He looked up, realized it was finally his turn at the bar and the bartender was looking at him impatiently.
“Bourbon on the rocks and a glass of white wine.”
He stuffed a couple of bills in the tip jar and managed to work his way back to the lady in red without spilling anything.
“Thank you.” She took the glass from him with graceful fingers.
Fingers that he suddenly wanted to suck individually, licking them with his tongue.
Jesus! Had she cast a spell on him?
“You haven’t told me your name,” he pointed out.
“Oh, but isn’t that the point of a masquerade? To keep your identity secret?”
He chuckled. “I guess you’re right. But I have to call you something besides Hey You.”
She lifted the fabric of her dress and let it drop. “How about Red?”
He cupped the tiny portion of her chin not covered by her mask. “Okay. Red sounds good to me.”
“But what about you?” she teased. “Should I call you Black Jack? Since you’re all in black?”
“How about just Black? Then we’ll be like the roulette wheel—Red and Black.”
Her laugh was like the sound of silver chimes. “Works for me.”
“So what’s the next step in your great adventure?”
She lifted one shoulder gracefully. “Maybe another dance?”
He placed his glass on the edge of the table next to them, took hers and set it beside his own. “Then I think this is our song.”
He was grateful that it was another slow melody, bluesy in its flavor. A song made for lovers. He was grateful for its tempo, unwilling to expend the energy he hoped to need by gyrating on the dance floor.
He swung her into his arms as if he’d been doing it for years. She fit perfectly against his body, her scent drifting in a tantalizing wave across his nose. His hand against her back drifted down to the swell of her buttocks again, bunching the material and sliding it back and forth. She hummed against his chest, a little sigh of pleasure that made him want to yank the fabric up to her waist and find the naked skin of her ass.
Wait! Stop! This is her adventure. Let her take the lead. Don’t jump all over her like a horny teenager.
But with her pressing her body against his, moving in that slow, sexy rhythm with him, what was he supposed to do? He was, after all, a red-blooded male with all the right equipment and reactions.
“Do you live in San Antonio?” he asked, trying to divert his thought processes.
“Yes, I do.”
“Too bad we’ve never met before. I like an adventurous woman.” He shifted and turned them in a new direction. “Although I’m gone a lot.”
“Oh? Do you travel on business?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
She moved her body against his, rubbing her breasts against him in a barely noticeable movement. He felt her hard nipples even through the satin of her dress and the silk of his shirt. His cock flexed, demanding freedom. Wanting to feel her heat.
“Are you deliberately trying to drive me crazy?” he asked in a strangled tone.
“Why, Black.” She moved her hips forward. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Maybe you should tell me a little more about what this adventure of yours is going to entail. Just so I don’t get myself in hot water.”
Did she tremble or was it his imagination?
“I told you. I mean to seduce a willing pirate and have my way with him. All night long.”
“Just for one night?” He turned her in yet another direction, needing to do something, anything except stand practically still with their bodies glued together.
“Oh, but that’s the key to an adventure. One night of total erotic bliss with an exciting stranger. Someone with whom you can toss away all inhibitions. If you had to see the person again you might feel…feel…”
“Embarrassed?”
“Maybe.”
“But what if you enjoyed it so much you wanted to do it again? With the same person.”
“No, that’s the key to an adventure like this,” she insisted. “No names, one night, exciting memories.”
Clay swallowed. “Then why are we wasting it on the dance floor?”
She lifted her head, the little he could see of her eyes suddenly uncertain.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind, of course.” He tried to tamp down the disappointment that surged forward.
“N-no. Not at all.” She released a little shuddering sigh. “So are you telling me you’re already seduced?”
“Enough that I want this to continue someplace a lot more private.”
Again he felt the little shudder and she stopped moving, stepping away from him.
“Wait here for me. I’ll be right back.” Lifting her skirt in both hands so she didn’t trip, she hurried from the ballroom. Clay stared after her then retrieved his drink and downed the rest of it. He hoped she’d hurry, because he was more than ready for whatever she had in mind.
Bridget hurried as fast as she dared, down the escalator and through the busy lobby to the reservations desk. While she waited with barely concealed impatience she looked around, hoping she didn’t spot Joni. Of course, who would recognize her the way she was dressed? Joni had never seen her like this and the mask covered all of her face exce
pt her pupils, her lips and a tiny bit of her chin.
“May I help you?”
The voice of the clerk dragged her back to her errand.
“Yes. I’d like a room for the night. Please.”
The clerk did his thing at his system computer then looked up and smiled. “We don’t have too much because of the ball. A lot of people have taken rooms.” She laughed. “I guess so they don’t have to worry about driving.”
“But you still have something available.”
“I do. But all I have are suites.”
Bridget bit back a sigh. More digging into her secret stash. “How much?”
“We have a special on for the event. Four hundred dollars.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“It’s normally almost twice that but the owner is on the ball committee so he set special rates.”
Oh well. At least it will be worth it. I hope.
“Okay. I’ll take it.” She handed over her credit card, filled out the registration form and accepted the key card the clerk slid across the counter to her. “One thing, though.”
“Yes?”
“If anyone asks who rented this room, please tell them that information is confidential.” The last thing she wanted was for Clay to quiz the staff and find out her name.
“Not a problem. I’ll pass the message along to the next shift and note the account.”
“Thank you.” She let out a sigh of relief.
“We hope you enjoy yourself,” the clerk told her.
“Oh, I plan to. Yes, indeed.”
Back to the escalator, up to the next floor, down the hall to the ballroom. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he was gone? Or worse yet, had hooked up with someone else?
Please, please, please be there.
She shoved her way through the knots of people in the broad hallway, ignoring the snotty remarks until she reached the ballroom again. And there he was. Still leaning against the wall, looking sexier than any man she’d ever met. Bridget let her breath out in a whoosh, settled her nerves and made her way toward him slowly.
His lips, visible below the mask, curved in a warm grin. “I wasn’t sure you were coming back.”
“I just went to make the arrangements for the next part of our adventure.”
“And did you?”
She nodded and shielding her actions with her body slid the key card from her pocket so that just the edge of it showed. “You still feeling seduced?”
Please say yes.
“Not as much as I expect to be if we use that card in your pocket.” He put his hand on her elbow, aware that fine tremors were vibrating through her system. “Red? We can call this off right now if you’ve changed your mind.”
She kept walking. “Not me. How about you?”
“Are you crazy? Just show me the way.”
She was glad for the secure feeling of his elbow steadying her as they made their way to the elevators. He was a solid presence behind her while they waited, his big body shielding as if sensing her nervousness about the crowd. At last the elevator arrived, they stepped on and she pressed the button for the twentieth floor with a hand that trembled only slightly. Neither of them said a word when the doors opened at their floor. But as they walked down the hallway he took her hand and squeezed it gently.
“I think this will be my adventure too, Red.”
“Really?” she asked in a breathy voice.
“Really,” he assured her.
When she had the door open he followed her inside. Closing the door with his elbow, he turned her to face him and brought his mouth down on hers.
A stunning jolt of electricity sizzled through her straight to her pussy.
Oh, god. This was going to get far more complicated than she’d bargained for.
Chapter Three
The kiss made Bridget so weak in the knees that she had to cling to Clay’s arms to hold herself steady. His lips were firm and warm, pressing against hers lightly at first but then increasing the pressure and using his tongue to trace the closed seam. He lightly licked her upper and lower lip before pushing until she opened for him. He swept inside, his tongue everywhere lighting fires like a dancing flame.
Someone moaned and she was sure the sound came from her. His tongue glided over hers, searching her mouth relentlessly. Licking, caressing, drawing her own tongue into his mouth. Her breath was trapped in her throat and heat consumed her. At the point where she was sure she’d pass out from lack of oxygen—and didn’t even care—he lifted his mouth from hers and stared directly into the part of her eyes he could see.
“Jesus!” he breathed. “Your kisses should come with a warning.”
“Yours too.”
She reached past him to find a switch on the wall beside the door and flipped it on, turning on two small table lamps.
Clay looked around at their surroundings. “A suite?”
“Only the best for my adventure,” she told him.
“Then I’d better do my damndest to make it worth your while.”
His mouth cruised over her neck, kissing, nipping, licking. He paused at the hollow of her throat, pressing the tip of his tongue against her hammering pulse before trailing kisses along her collarbone. Again he scattered little nips that he soothed with his tongue then moved to the upper swell of her breasts. When he stopped she cried out in protest.
“I think we need to be a little more horizontal for what I want to do.”
She was pleased to discover his breathing was just as uneven as her own.
“I think I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking the lead here.”
His grin was wicked. “Then I say lead on.”
Still quaking inside she took his hand and led him into the bedroom, which was as huge as the living room part of the suite. Spotting the king-size bed that seemed to be the focal point, she took another deep breath and urged Clay over so he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Showtime,” she said in a voice almost a whisper.
I can do this. I can. Just keep it light. Nothing heavy. Don’t scare him away.
He sat with his hands on his thighs, his eyes behind the mask burning with intensity.
The dress had a zipper running the length of it in back. Bridget had practiced at home and found she could reach back over her shoulder and pull it down halfway, then reach upward and slide it down the rest of the way. She did it now slowly, tugging the head of the zipper until the material parted and the dress slipped from her shoulders. Pushing downward from her hips she shimmied until the dress pooled at her feet then daintily stepped out of it. She now wore only the outrageously expensive lace-and-satin demi bra and the barely there thong in salacious red. And her wickedly high heels.
She was rewarded by the hiss of Clay’s indrawn breath and the tightening of his fingers on his thighs.
“Holy shit, Red,” he breathed. “If I say you are every man’s wet dream will I offend you?”
She laughed, giddy. “Not at all. Praise a woman lives to hear.”
“That’s good because it’s the damn truth.”
She did a slow turn, pivoting on her stilettos, letting him look his fill of her from every angle. Only the anonymity of the mask gave her the courage to do this and she took full advantage if it, cocking her hip at a saucy angle when she finished.
“Surely you aren’t going to stop now.” His voice held a hint of unsteadiness.
“Not on your life.”
She put the tip of one forefinger on her lower lip and bit it gently. Clay sucked in a breath and Bridget watched his fingers dig so deeply into his thighs she wondered if he’d leave grooves. She was so turned-on just from watching his reaction to her that moving to the next step seemed almost natural. Turning away from him, she widened her stance and bent over from the waist, giving him an unobstructed view of her ass, the thong riding in the crevice and the lips of her pussy flaring out on either side of the insubstantial crotch material. Just for good measure she wiggled her hip
s. She was getting bolder by the minute and enjoying it in a way she’d never imagined
“Jesus, Red.” Clay’s voice was hoarse with barely controlled lust. “When do I get to touch?”
“First you have to get naked,” she told him, turning around. “I want to see your body too.”
He rose and began to pull his shirt from the waistband of his pants but Bridget was on him in a flash.
“My job,” she said, making her voice low and sultry. “After all, I’m in charge of this seduction. Right?”
“For the moment.” He dropped his hands and stood immobile while she finished freeing the shirt then nudged him to bend slightly so she could pull it over his head.
Ohmigod!
Bare of any clothing his shoulders looked even broader, muscles rippling, brown hair scattered across his chest and arrowing down to disappear into his trousers. Licking her lips again, Bridget lifted a hand and ran it over the curls, finding his flat nipples and scraping her fingernails over them lightly. Clay tensed beneath her touch but otherwise made no move or gave any indication of a reaction. It pleased her to know that her touch made him dig for his self-control.
Her hands trembled slightly as she unfastened the drawstring on his pirate pantaloons and undid the fly. The soft fabric fell easily past his hips and hung over the tops of his boots. Hesitating for only a moment Bridget hooked her fingers in the elastic of his boxer briefs and dragged them down too.
Holy shit!
Nothing she’d ever written about prepared her for the thick, swollen, erect cock that sprang free from its cradling nest of wiry hair, the head dark with the blood that had rushed to it, a tiny drop of fluid sitting teasingly on the slit. Below it hung the heavy sac with his testicles, resting against his solid thighs. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the sight.
“Like what you see?” Clay’s voice had a provocative tone to it.
“I think you’ll do.” She tried to match his tone.
“What about the masks?”
She shook her head. “That’s part of the mystery. The unknown factor. The masks stay on, so the people behind them will be forever hidden.”
“But what if I want to see you? I could just rip it off, you know.”