Chapter One

 

Bree

Eight Years Ago

 

I see him moving between the arches of purple and silver balloons and among the lavish decorations that fill the ground floor of my family's home. He speaks to no one, his gaze rarely leaving me. I flit from room to room, watching him from my peripheral vision. He doesn't approach but watches me from afar. A small, enigmatic little smile touching the corners of his lips whenever our eyes meet.

A four-piece string quartet plays in one room – but no one is really listening. Personally, I would have preferred a band that plays music I actually love – maybe some Taylor Swift or Lady Gaga. Something that my friends and I would have liked. After all, it is my birthday.

But, my folks had vetoed that idea and went with the string quartet, saying a pop or rock band would not be appropriate. But, whatever. Everything else about tonight is incredible. It's a night of pure magic and I couldn’t possibly be any happier.

“This party is amazing,” Elizabeth squeals as she grips my arm.

She's bouncing up and down so hard, she's nearly knocking my mask off. I laugh and make her stop moving before I straighten my mask out. I selected my favorite colors for the masked ball and had my outfit perfectly matched. A sexy, strapless purple gown made of satin with a plunging neckline, and a silver mask adorned in purple beads, delicate lace, and feathers, complete the look.

The whole scene – everybody in formalwear and beautiful, intricate masks – is amazing. Gorgeous. It reminds me of those movie scenes of the elegant formal balls held at the court of a king or a queen. Or like one of those old time Scarlett O'Hara type Southern plantations – which is, without a doubt, what my parents were aiming for. They are very proud of their Southern heritage, after all.

I don't feel the same sort of attachment to or pride in being a Southerner. Not like my parents and brother do. I don’t feel like I should be proud of being born and growing up in Georgia – it was purely a matter of chance. But hey, whatever works for them.

I've been wandering around for a while, just looking at it all. I’m completely in awe at how gorgeous and elegant everything is. Even though I'd chosen the theme for my birthday party, it turned out so much more beautiful and amazing than I ever imagined it would be.

“I'm so glad you're here,” I say, pulling Elizabeth into a tight embrace.

“Like I would have missed it,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “My best friend only turns eighteen once.”

Over Elizabeth's shoulder, I see the man again as he makes his way through the crowd. A familiar nervous chill mixes with the excitement running through me. He cuts a striking figure in what looks to be a very expensive, well-tailored tuxedo – obviously not a cheap rental like some of my friends are wearing – along with a black mask, decorated with red and black feathers and silver beading. He's tall and fit, with a trim figure and broad, masculine shoulders.

Thanks to that mask, I can only see his perfectly styled hair, blacker than midnight, and the lower half of his tawny, chiseled face. He's obviously spent some time in the sun and works out. He looks handsome. Almost regal. But, I can't place him. Although there's something about him that's familiar, something that rings a bell, I can't seem to put my finger on what it is. Since I know he isn’t anyone I know - I assume he is the plus-one of another guest. Though, I wonder who he came with.

I've been moving around the party, greeting friends, and talking to people for the last half-hour or so. And that guy has been lurking in the background the entire time. He's been at the fringes of the party, not talking to any of the other guests, just kind of walking around – watching me, following me from room to room, his eyes never leaving me.

Ordinarily, the sight of a masked man, a stranger, following me around a large, crowded house, watching me, staring at me, would freak me out. And maybe it should. I mean, I don't know who this guy is, and he seems really interested in me. In any other setting, I'd call it stalking and probably call the man a creep.

Yet, if I'm being honest – and I always try to be honest, especially with myself – there is something I find sexy about it. Maybe it's the overwhelming elegance of the evening, or all the emotions swirling in me, but there is something sultry, something strangely erotic, about a well-dressed man in a mask watching me as intently as he has been.

“I want you to do something for me,” I tell Elizabeth.

“Anything, babe.”

“Don't be obvious about it,” I say. “But, turn around and check out the guy in the red-and-black mask over by the staircase. Remember, be subtle.”

“Subtle is my middle name.”

I laugh. “I thought slut was your middle name.”

She slaps me playfully on the arm. “I have multiple middle names.”

Elizabeth is my best friend and has been since we were in kindergarten. I love her to pieces. As slowly and casually as possible – and somewhat theatrically – she turns around and scans the crowd. The guy sees her looking and smirks – although, I get the impression that his eyes never left me. She turns back to me a moment later and a wide smile spreads across her face. Even from behind her mask, I can see the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“He looks hot,” she says. “Totally hot. You should bang him.”

I laugh and slap her on the arm. “Is that your answer to everything?”

“Pretty much.”

Elizabeth talks a big game, but she's not nearly the whore she pretends to be. She's only been with three or four different people, but to hear her talk, you'd almost think she would take any guy at any time. She doesn't. That's just her persona.

For whatever reason, she wants to be known as the wild, bad-girl type. It probably has something to do with the fact that her dad is the town's sheriff and she's gotten crap for it her entire life from our group of friends and classmates. Maybe she feels like she has something to prove, I don't know. It's just part of who Elizabeth is.

I'm not saying I'm an angel. Not by any means. But, I'm not quite as open and expressive about my sexuality and desire as Elizabeth is. Especially around my parents, who have this antiquated, Victorian view of sex and sexuality. Although, I notice those old-fashioned ideals don't extend to my brother.

Sexist much?

“What about that guy, though?” she asks.

“Do you know who he is?”

She shakes her head. “No idea,” she says. “He's not somebody who goes to school with us. Believe me, I'd remember someone like that roaming the halls.”

“Well, duh,” I say, drawing a giggle from her. “

I laugh again. Given the fact that we go to the Wellbrook Academy for Girls, a man – any man – would stand out in the halls of our school. Even if Wellbrook was a co-ed school, I think this guy would stand out. He's that striking.

“He's been following me around all night,” I say. “Everywhere I go, he's there. Always in the background, just – watching me.”

A grin touches Elizabeth's lips. “He totally wants you.”

I scoff. “Please,” I say. “I doubt that. I just don't know what his deal is. Or, for the matter, who he is”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she says. “Go talk to him.”

“I can't,” I reply, feeling the heat rush to my face at the mere thought of it.

“Why not?”

“I – I just can't,” I say.

“Oh please,” Elizabeth says, smiling. “You're not going to play into that whole shy, proper, Southern belle stereotype now, are you?”

I laugh. “In fact, I am.”

“Yeah, well you need to cut that shit out, babe” she says with a grin. “Especially if you want to land a hot guy like that.”

“Who says I want to land him?”

“Well, you should at least bang him,” she says. “At least once. He's hot.”

I doubt Elizabeth would do any such thing, but I laugh anyway.

“Seriously, babe,” she says. “Talk to him. At the very least.”

Elizabeth waves at somebody over my shoulder and then turns back to me, giving me a wide smile.

“Tommy Rutledge?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, God no,” she says. “He is like so two weeks ago. No, I came to the party with Andy.”

I feel my eyes widen. “Andy Wiggins?” I ask. “Tommy's best friend?”

Her flirty little grin only gets wider. “That would be him,” she says. “The fine piece of meat that he is.”

“You know you're playing with fire,” I say.

She shrugs. “At least I'm playing with something, babe,” she says. “Now, go talk to the mystery stalker.”

She flounces off and I see her grab Andy's hand, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. He leans in for a real kiss, but she brushes him off, laughing the whole time. She's not going to make this easy on him. The poor guy. I almost feel sorry for him. He has no idea that he is only a pawn in her game.

I have a feeling that given the reputation she's nurtured over the years, Andy figured he was going to have an easy score tonight. But, I also know that Elizabeth is trying to get back at Tommy for cheating on her – and what better way to do that than date his best friend?

Yeah, this isn't going to end well for anybody.

I cut a quick glance over at the man in the red-and-black mask. He's still standing there, sipping from a cup, staring at me. It's a little frustrating, honestly. If he's this interested, why hasn't he made a move to come talk to me?

I move to the next room over – the formal dining room. It's huge and paneled in dark wood – and filled with the painted portraits of our various ancestors. The most prominent portrait among them, that of James Longstreet, the famous – or perhaps notorious, depending on your point of view – Confederate General. Though I personally find it a little appalling, my family is proud of being related to the long dead war hero.

Like I said before, my family takes great pride in our Southern roots and heritage.

I talk to a few of my friends, accepting their birthday wishes, but my eyes are on the door. And, it's not long before I see the familiar red-and-black masked man step into the room. He sees me watching the door, sees me watching him, and smiles.

And I swear to God, that smile is so electric and has such a weight to it that I feel my breath catch in my throat – and about melts my panties off on the spot.

“You okay, Bree?”

I turn and look at the face of my friend Mike. He's looking at me like I've just had a stroke or something, and I can only imagine what kind of expression is on my face.

“Yeah, fine,” I say, trying to put a smile on my face that I hope doesn't look forced. “Sorry, just distracted, I guess.”

Mike follows my gaze over to the man in the red-and-black mask. He's leaning against the door frame, sipping his drink, his eyes riveted to mine. Try as I might, I can't take my eyes off him. There's just something about him I find so mysteriously intoxicating. Compelling. It's horribly cliché, but like a moth to a flame, I feel drawn to him.

“Is that guy bothering you?” Mike asks, puffing himself up.

I put a hand on his arm. “No, not at all,” I say. “He's fine.”

Mike looks at the man and then at me, obviously not buying it. I force another smile onto my face, hoping this one is more convincing than the last.

“Seriously,” I say, “It's nothing. He's not bothering me.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” I say. “Now, come on, this is a party. Go, have fun. Go get a drink. I think somebody spiked the sparkling cider fountain.”

Mike gives me a smile and casts the mystery man a threatening look, before turning and heading off to grab a drink. If there's one thing I know about my friends, it's that they like to drink. And although my parents said that alcohol wasn't allowed at the party, there wasn’t a way they could really stop it. I figure they probably knew that, though.

My breathing is a little ragged and my heart thunders in my chest as I look at my mystery admirer. I can't stop the small smile that touches my lips. I'm half-tempted to do what Elizabeth said – go up and talk to him – but I have a better idea.

If he's going to play games, so will I.

I give him a little smile before I turn and head out the door opposite of the one he's standing next to. I make my way through the crowd, smiling and waving to the friends trying to catch my attention as I pass.

I walk through the other dozen or so rooms on the ground floor, all decorated extravagantly for the party, completely filled with people. Turning around, I see the man weaving his way through the crowd, slipping around people and the elaborate decorations. All the while, there's an unfathomable smile on his face.

I push through the doors and walk into the kitchen. The wait staff that's assembled in there give me a questioning look, but I ignore them. A couple of moments later, the man comes through the door, his eyes glued on me.

I stand not even ten feet away from him, captivated by the icy blue eyes I see behind the mask. I catch the scent of an expensive cologne and know that this man – whoever he is – isn't one of my guests. He's older than me by a few years at least– and is probably not a high school student at all.

“Who brought you here? I ask.

“Who said anybody brought me?”

His voice is a low rumble – like the sound of thunder in the distance. And I feel every syllable reverberate through my body, sending shockwaves of sensation rolling through me. My mouth is dry, but my palms are damp – though not nearly as wet as my panties. His gaze is so direct, so penetrating. It's like he can see right through me.

The way his gaze slides up and down my body is sexy as hell and makes my already racing heart, hammer inside of me even harder than before. It's more than him just undressing me with his eyes. He's not some high school boy hoping to get a peek under my dress. No, this is the look of a man who wants to devour more than just my body. Much, much more.

And it's that look, that certainty that he wants more than just my flesh, that lights a fire between my thighs.

“You two,” one of the waiters calls from behind us, “get out of here. We're working.”

I turn and glare at the waiter. “This is my house,” I say. “I'll stand wherever I want to, thank you very much.”

The waiter looks at me a moment longer and I can tell that he wants to argue, but wisely bites back his words instead. He quickly turns around and busies himself with a tray of food.

“A woman in charge,” the masked man says. “I like that.”

I turn back to him and grin. “What's your name?”

The man gives me a roguish little smirk. “Telling you my name would defeat the purposes of these masks, wouldn't it?”

“Well, you've been following me around all night,” I say, “so I assume you want me to know who you are.”

He steps closer to me, barely three feet away, and my body reacts to his approach. My pulse is racing, my heart stuttering like I'm having palpitations, and I feel lightheaded. There is a yearning within me, my body already crying out for release.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, darlin',” he says, his voice a deep, rumbling growl. “You know what they say about assumptions,” he says.

My throat is dry and when I open my mouth to speak, no words come out. I give myself a mental kick in the butt and try to calm down. My cheeks are burning and I'm suddenly glad for the masks since I'm sure they're a shade of red not normally found in nature.

I can't let him see the effect he's having on me. That will only give him power over me – well, more power, anyway. I know I need to rein it in. I clear my throat and look at him, trying to figure out who is the man beneath the mask.

“Well, then,” I reply, my tone flirtatious, “if you don't want me to know who you are, I guess there's not much left to talk about.”

I trail my finger along a chest that's strong and toned beneath that tuxedo jacket as I slip around him and out the kitchen door. I make my way through the smaller of the dining rooms on the ground floor and glance back over my shoulder to see him emerging from the kitchen, that enigmatic smile still on his face.

I weave around people in one of the sitting rooms and stop behind a table with a sparkling cider fountain. I casually pour myself a cup as the masked stranger stops on the other side of the table from me. Taking a drink, I grimace a bit as the liquid leaves a trail of fire down my throat. Yeah, somebody spiked it. But, that doesn't stop me from downing a second quickly.

“Drinks not to your liking?” the man asks.

“Who are you?” I respond, a flirty smile back on my lips.

I know that I shouldn't be encouraging this. I probably should have him escorted out – or demanded to know who he is. I don't know what he wants from me. And the fact that he's spent the whole evening following me, watching me from afar, should be raising all sorts of red flags in my head.

For some reason though, I do none of those things. The red flags aren't waving in my head, and I don't feel threatened in the least. In fact, the only thing I do feel – is intrigued. Well intrigued and aroused, if I'm being honest.

He taps the mask on his face. “I thought we already covered that question, darlin'.”

That Southern drawl drips from his lips like the richest Georgia honey, every syllable sending a shiver of pleasure rippling across my skin. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, trying to gain control of myself.

I don't know why this man – this stranger – is having such a profound effect on me, but I need to keep myself under control. Still, I can't deny that being near him is only stoking the fires within me even higher. Making them burn hotter. And filling me with a sense of longing. Of desire. A powerful sense of need.

“You never answered the question,” I say.

He shrugs. “I answered it,” he says. “It’s not my fault you didn't like my answer.”

The buzz of conversation is as loud as it is constant. I guess that's what happens when you pack two hundred and fifty teenagers into a house. I down the rest of my drink and leave the cup on the table. I start to feel a little lightheaded but manage to keep myself from swaying.

I'm not really a drinker – unlike most of my friends – so, it usually doesn't take much for me to feel it. I'm pretty good at hiding it though.

“I know you, don't I?” I ask.

He shrugs again. “Perhaps you do.”

I rack my brain, trying to think. There's something about him that seems so familiar to me. Something about the way he looks and about the sound of his voice. I just can't place it.

“Well, like I said before,” I reply, “I don't talk to strangers, so I guess there's not much left to discuss.”

I turn and walk out of the room and make my way towards the door to the backyard gardens. My cheeks are flushed, my head is spinning, and I need some air. I have no idea what they spiked the sparkling cider with, but it was strong.

The sound of music and the incessant buzz of conversation fades behind me as I walk across the back deck, past the pool, and onto the garden path. The night air still carries a touch of the heat from the afternoon, as summer exhales its final breaths, but it's pleasant. The moon hangs high overhead, casting the world around me in a silvery light as I walk past the fountain and the tall flowering shrubs that line the walkways. I inhale deeply, savoring the scent of honeysuckle, jasmine, and a hundred other flowers that live in our gardens.

My head is starting to clear by the time I make it to the gazebo in the center of the gardens. The house is about a hundred yards behind me and the sounds of the party have all but faded away. I sit down on the bench, basking in the soft, dim glow of the lights in the gazebo, relishing the feel of the air upon my skin.

“I've been following you because I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”

His voice startles me, and I sit up abruptly, adrenaline flooding my body. I hadn't heard him walk up. I had no idea that he was standing there, leaning against the doorway of the gazebo, until he'd spoken. The man moved so quietly, he could have been a ghost.

“Sorry,” he says. “Didn't mean to startle you.”

A small smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth. He's not sorry. He knows exactly what he is doing.

“Very smooth line,” I say. “How can you tell I'm beautiful when I'm wearing a mask?”

“Perhaps, this isn't the first time I've seen you,” he says, the rumble of his voice sending goosebumps along my skin. “Bree Longstreet, the sweetest, most perfect Georgia peach to ever grace our state. Full of virtue and purity, from what I hear.”

“Well, I guess you have me all figured out then, don't you?”

“I didn't say that,” he says, that inscrutable smile upon his lips once more. “Only that this may not be the first time I've seen you.”

“Well, you obviously don't know me very well,” I say, shocked at the flirty tilt in my reply. “I'm not the bastion of virtue and purity you seem to think I am.”

His eyes glitter mischievously. Dangerously. He looks at me with a raw, animalistic lust that makes my heart stutter in my breast. I lick my suddenly dry lips and swallow hard, my throat feeling parched. I've never been looked at the way this man is looking at me, and the intensity of his gaze burns a hole right through me. Not to mention the fact that my panties are getting soaked.

“Oh, really now?” he whispers.

I stammer and clear my throat. “Not that I'm a whore or anything,” I reply. “I'm just not the angel people seem to think I am.”

“Of course not.”

There's a long moment of silence between us – a silence so thick with tension and expectation, I feel like I’m choking on it.

“Who did you come with?” I ask.

“I didn't come with anybody.”

I give him a small smile, doing my best to keep my racing heart under control. I cut a glance at the house and see that there isn't anybody on the back deck or in the gardens. It's just me and the mysterious stranger. I have to admit, being this close to him is a little bit scary, but definitely a lot more exciting.

“You had to have come with somebody,” I say. “This party is invitation only.”

“I'm resourceful,” he says. “I don't let little things like that stop me from getting what I want.”

“And what is it you want?”

“You.”

One words is all it takes. That one simple word sends a bolt of electricity shooting through me. It sets fire to my insides and I hear the breath catch in my throat. He looks at me from behind his mask, those icy blue eyes seeming to strip away every part of me. Exposing me. Revealing me. There's a look of hunger – of absolute desire – in his eyes that makes me quiver, that makes my cheeks blush hotter than I've ever felt them burn before.

He steps further into the gazebo, his eyes glued to me as I stand up and take a step back from him, fear and desire stirring within me simultaneously. I don't know this man. He's a stranger to me. I should be going back to the house - to the safety of the party and all my friends.

I shouldn't want him.

But, I do.

He steps closer and I take another step back, bumping into the low wall that encloses the gazebo. He stands between me and the doorway. My only way out is past him. I lick my lips, my mouth as dry as the desert, and my heart hammering within me so hard, I fear it might burst.

I should go.

I don't want to.

“T – take off your mask,” I say, butterfly wings of fear and excitement battering my stomach. “I – I want to see you.”

He shakes his head, that enigmatic smile on his face deepening. He's standing a foot away from me now as I stand rooted to my spot, staring back into those eyes. As if he's moving in slow motion, I watch him reach out, the back of his knuckles grazing my cheek. I shudder at the gentle touch.

The man steps forward, pressing his body against me. I watch and do nothing as he leans down, pressing his lips to mine. Shocked and scared, I stand stiff and unmoving at first. But, my body, acting of its own volition, parts my lips and I feel his tongue slide into my mouth. It sends another electric jolt through my body and I kiss him back. Our tongues swirl and dance within our mouths and the heat building inside of me is like an inferno.

I pull back and look him in the eyes. I reach for his mask and he draws back, taking my hand in his. He shakes his head and flashes me a roguish smile.

“Let's preserve the mystery,” he says.

“I want to see you,” I say, my voice nearly breathless.

“I want a lot of things,” he says. “Doesn't mean I always get them.”

Without waiting for me to respond, he leans forward and kisses me again. I grind my body against his, feeling the long, hard, thickness of his cock pressing against me. As he plants a line of kisses down my neck to my chest, I lean my head back, close my eyes, and let out a soft moan.

This is crazy. Insane. I'm not like this. I'm no angel, but I'm not this kind of girl. I don't know this man and yet, there's something about him that draws me to him. Compels me. That makes me want him unlike anything I've ever wanted before in my life. It's scary. Exciting. And dangerous.

I pull back again. “W – we should stop,” I say, my voice trembling. “W – we shouldn't.”

My gown has a high slit up the thigh and he slips his hand beneath it, sliding his fingers between my thighs. I bite my bottom lip and groan softly as he strokes me through my panties. I know he can feel how hot and wet I am. He gives me that self-satisfied grin again and runs his fingertips up and down, pressing against the warm, wet center of me. I know I should stop, but my body is crying out, begging me not to.

“You know you want to,” he says, his voice thicker than molasses and sweeter than honey.

I draw a long, shuddering breath. “I want a lot of things too. Doesn't mean I always get them either.”

I throw his words back in his face, desperately trying to maintain some sense of order and control of the situation. This is quickly getting out of hand, and I know that if I don't do something soon, it's going to be too late for me to do anything at all.

He flashes me a cocky little smirk as he withdraws his hand and licks his fingertips, seeming to relish the taste of me. The mere sight of that stokes the flames burning inside of me even higher. Reason, logic, and common sense seem to flee my mind and body, and suddenly, I'm nothing more than a live wire. An exposed nerve of carnal need and desire.

Before I’m even aware that I’ve moved my hand, I'm rubbing his stiff cock through the pants of his tuxedo. I grip and stroke it through his pants, marveling at the length and girth of it. This mystery man, whoever he might be, is incredibly well-endowed. He looks at me with a gaze filled with the purest, most raw desire I've ever seen in another person.

Unlike the high school boys I'm used to, who are all fumbling hands and clumsy gestures, this man doesn't just want to grope and fuck me. He wants to devour me. I can see it in his eyes.

Realizing what I'm doing, I feel my cheeks flush and pull my hand away, a small gasp escaping from my throat. I give myself another mental kick. I shouldn't be doing this. I really shouldn’t.

“I – I can't,” I say, my voice low and husky.

He steps to the side and gestures toward the doorway in the gazebo. “Then go,” he says. “I'm not stopping you.”

I take a hesitant step forward, my brain telling me to run away, to not look back. My body has other plans though. I turn and grab him by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him to me. Our kiss is filled with a fire and passion I've never felt, and my body trembles as he slides his fingers up and down my back.

He cups my ass and pulls me to him, grinding his rigid cock against me. I slide my hand down his body, relishing the feel of his hard, toned torso beneath my fingertips. Grabbing his cock through his pants, I squeeze it hard and he lets out a low grunt.

I reach up in another attempt to take his mask off, but he grabs my hand and shakes his head. He pushes me back, pressing me against the low wall of the gazebo once more. I'm stroking him through his pants and getting more turned on by the second.

He slides his hand back under my dress and pushes my panties to the side. As he plants kisses upon my mouth and neck, sliding his tongue down to my cleavage, he slips two fingers inside of me. I'm so slick with juices, that his fingers enter me without a problem. And when he starts to move them, in and out, my body explodes in sensation.

I bite back a cry, not wanting my voice to ring out throughout the back lawn. I know we're alone out here, but there's no sense in taking chances. The man bangs me hard and fast, driving his fingers into me again and again. My body is on fire, awash in sensation, as he buries his fingers into me.

Looking up, I find his cool blue eyes watching me, burning brightly with desire. I feel the pressure building low within me. He must know how close I am, because he pumps his fingers into me even harder. Faster. Deeper.

“Yes,” I cry out, unable to hold it back. “Yes, yes, fuck yes.”

My body is shaking and there is an explosion of bright light behind my eyes as my orgasm crashes down over me. I draw in a stuttering breath and let it out again, my entire body shaking as wave after wave of sensation ripples through my body.

He withdraws his fingers again and I see them glistening with my juices in the dim lighting. My breath catches in my throat as I watch him lick his fingers clean again. Slowly, my breathing calms and my heart slows down, but the desire in me is more intense than ever.

He gives me that trademark smirk again and it sets my heart beating harder once more. There's something about this whole thing that's so surreal and yet, so intense. The fact that we're still wearing our masks, that I don't know who he is – it's so fucking electrifying and sensual to me. So fucking erotic. And I can't control myself.

I reach down and grab his cock through his pants. “I need to feel you inside of me.”

He shakes his head and slips my mask off, tracing a fingertip along my cheek. A shudder passes through me as he sets my mask gently on the bench beside us. His gaze burns into me, searing my very soul. He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes seeming to drink in my every feature now that my mask is off. His eyes glitter and sparkle behind his mask, the heat of his lust coming off him in waves. Heat that I can feel passing through every part of me.

I reach for his mask, desperate to see him, but the man puts his hands on my shoulders and gently pushes me down. I know exactly what he wants. Hiking my gown up a bit, I get down on my knees and reach for him. As I unbutton his pants and slide his zipper down, I can see his eyes glistening behind that mask. The look of pure desire on his face makes me even wetter than I already am. I'm now dripping wet and can feel my juices running down the insides of my thighs.

I slide his pants down to his hips and pull his cock out from his boxers. I grip it firmly at the base, eliciting a soft moan from him. I move my hand up and down his stiff rod, stroking him. Leaning forward, I run the tip of my tongue around the head of his cock, taking the tip between my lips and tasting his pre-cum.

Sliding my mouth over his rod, I take as much of him as I can. I grip the rest of his hard shaft with my hand and start working my mouth and hand in unison. Honestly, I haven't given head that many times in my life and am mostly copying what I've seen in the small amount of porn I've watched online. Given the way he's moaning, though, I'm pretty sure he's enjoying this – enjoying me sucking on his cock.

I hear his breathing grow a little ragged and his body stiffen. I grip him tighter and suck him harder, knowing he's close to bursting. With a gasp, he pulls back, and his cock falls out of my mouth. He reaches down and pulls me roughly to my feet. Kissing me hard, he turns me around, bending me over the railing of the gazebo.

I hear the sound of a package being torn open and look back to see him rolling a condom down the length of his cock. It's then I have the first flutter of worry, not knowing if I can take something so large inside of me.

I don't have to wonder long though. The man pushes my gown up over my hips and roughly yanks my panties down to the middle of my thighs. Stepping forward, he grabs hold of one shoulder and then places his cock inside of me. The sensation of him spreading me open so suddenly sends a sharp spike of pain shooting through me. I cry out and grimace.

The pain is quickly overwhelmed by a rush of pleasure so intense, it nearly brings tears to my eyes. The man starts pumping his hips, driving his cock into me hard and fast. Every thrust of his stiff shaft inside of me brings a slight twinge of pain that makes the flood of pleasure that much more vivid. That much more intense.

The sound of flesh meeting flesh rings out in the night air, and I let out a yelp of surprise when he smacks my ass hard enough to make my flesh sting. I've never been spanked before, but I have to admit that slight sting of pain is intense and makes the pleasure that much better.

“Talk dirty to me,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. “I want to hear you.”

I look back at him over my shoulder. I've never talked dirty before and honestly, am unsure how. I'm embarrassed to admit it to him, for some reason, wanting him to think I'm experienced. His eyes glitter behind his mask and that smile appears on his lips again

“Eyes forward,” he commands, his voice gruff.

I turn around and grip the rail of the gazebo hard, my nails digging into the wood as he pounds his cock into me from behind. I glance up at the house, making sure that nobody is headed our way, and let out a breath of relief when I see that we're still very much alone.

“You're a dirty little girl, aren't you, Bree?”

I nod, but he smacks me on the ass, the sting of the blow radiating through my body. A soft groan passes my lips and I close my eyes, relishing the sensation.

“Tell me,” he says.

“Y – yes,” I say. “I'm a dirty little girl.”

“Say it again,” he commands and thrusts his cock hard, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside me. “Louder.”

“Yes, baby,” I call out. “I'm a dirty little girl. I'm a whore. I'm your dirty little whore. You like that, baby?”

His hand is firm and strong on my ass as he slaps me again, drawing another squeal from my lips. My mind is spinning, my cheeks flare with color, and my eyes grow wide. I can't believe the words that are falling out of my mouth. I'm not a whore and I don't talk this way. There's something about this man though, something about the way he fills me up and stretches me open, that sends dual spikes of pain and pleasure coursing through me, that have made me lose all sense. All control.

It's like this man has a key that's unlocked something deep within me. Something raw. Something primal. I've never felt sensations as intense as what I'm feeling right now, and it feels like it's consuming me. Swallowing me whole. My body is trembling, and my breathing is uneven.

And all I want is more. So much more.

His hand tightens on my shoulder and he drives his hard rod deep into me repeatedly. The sound of our flesh slapping together as he pounds his cock into me echoes throughout the gardens, blending with our soft moans, making an erotic melody.

I've never been stretched open like this man is doing to me right now. Not that I have a world of experience. I don't even have as much experience as Elizabeth, truth be told. But, I like what he's doing to me. It's scary, but sensual and amazing in more ways than I could ever imagine.

The man drives his cock into me harder and faster, plunging himself inside of me deeper. I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out. Instead, a muffled moan bubbles up out of my throat as electric bolts of pleasure sear my every nerve ending.

“Fuck me,” I moan. “Fuck me with that hard cock, baby. Yes.”

There's another sharp sting of pain that tears through my body as he spanks me again and I bite back a yelp. He slaps my ass again and drives himself into me hard, hitting my sweet spot. I can't help but cry out as the mixture of pleasure and pain rocks my body.

I hear him grunting as his movements become more erratic. His grip on my shoulder tightens and his body tenses behind me.

“Come for me, baby,” I gasp.

I'm rewarded with another slap on the ass, this one harder than all the others. I bite my bottom lip, pleasure and pain flowing through me in equal measures. I feel the pressure in me building. My pulse is racing and with each thrust of that glorious cock, he brings me closer to the peak.

I push myself back against him, trying to take him even deeper, my whole body vibrating with ecstasy.

“I – I'm going to come,” I moan.

He smacks my ass again, even harder, and I can't bite back the yelp before it bursts out of my mouth. He drives his stiff rod into me and I feel like I'm being split in two, the sharp pain making me squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth.

“Come for me, Bree,” he grunts. “Come all over my cock, you dirty little whore.”

“Yes, baby,” I groan. “Yes. I'm a whore. Your whore.”

He thrusts himself hard again and as if I'd been waiting for his approval, my orgasm tears through me like a searing, powerful bolt of lightning. My body shakes so hard, I feel like I'm having a seizure. I open my mouth, but if I had any thought of screaming out, it dies quickly. The only sound that comes from me is a gasping, gurgling noise that barely sounds human.

I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth, letting waves of sheer ecstasy wash over me. I've never felt such intense pleasure before. The man thrusts his cock into me deeply once more and I feel his body tense. His cock begins to throb, and I hear him grunt as he fills the condom with his hot seed.

Pushing back against him, the man gripping me tightly, our bodies crush together as we ride out the waves of ecstasy.,

I draw in a shuddering breath and slowly release it as my orgasm begins to fade. He steps back, his deflating member slipping out of me. I feel a twinge of regret at the sudden absence of his cock and the dwindling feeling of pleasure in my body.

I stand and pull my panties back up, turning back around to face him. He tosses the spent condom into one of the tall shrubs near the gazebo. Giving me a small smile, the man tucks in his shirt and zips up his pants, his mask still perfectly in place. I would give anything to take a peek beneath it. To see the man who unlocked such a dark, sensual part of me that I didn't even know existed.

I reach a trembling hand out to peel away his mask, but he catches me by the wrist, that charismatic smile back upon his lips.

“Some things are better left a mystery,” he purrs. “Don't you think?”

“I want to see you,” I say. “I just let you fuck me, I think I'm entitled.”

“Oh, I wasn't aware there was an entry fee for the ride,” he says, a chuckle in his voice.

“You son of a bitch,” I say, feeling my cheeks flaring and anger rising within me.

His eyes glitter behind his mask and there is a bemused grin on his face. He stands there staring at me for a long moment and I ball my fists at my sides and resist the urge to smack him. I don't know why I feel so angry all the sudden - so used. I wanted this and allowed it to happen. He'd promised me nothing and I still gave my body freely. I don't regret it at all. It was my choice.

I just want more. More of him. More of that.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Bree?”

“I think that much was obvious.”

“Then why are you so angry?”

I bite back my words because I know how childish and petty they'll sound. And for reasons I don't quite understand, I don't want to sound that way in front of this man. For whatever reason, I want him to think I'm mature, self-realized, and sophisticated. Not some silly little girl who, having just experienced mind-blowing, world-shattering sex for the first time, is going to be clingy or needy.

“I'm not angry,” I say evenly. “I usually prefer to know who it is I'm fucking.”

He shrugs. “You could have demanded it before we started.”

“And would you have?” I asked. “Removed the mask?”

He shrugs again. “I suppose we'll never know.”

The truth was, the fact that we were both masked had made things a little more intense. A little more powerful. It played into the whole fantasy about finding a complete stranger, fucking them, and leaving. Except, this man obviously has the advantage of knowing who I am, which diminishes the fantasy – but only a little.

“What if I want to see you again?” I ask. “What if I want to do this again?”

The enigmatic smile returns. “Then, maybe we will.”

“How will I get in touch with you?”

Without a word, he slips his phone out of his pocket and punches in a few buttons. He hands it over to me and I look down. It's his contacts list. And he wants me to add my number to it. I punch in my number and hand his phone back to him. He tucks it away in his pocket once more.

“Perhaps, I'll call you, Bree.”

“Perhaps?”

He shrugs. “Perhaps.”

It's then that I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice – he will call on me again. I know that he enjoyed our time together as much as I did. And I know that he wants more, every bit as much as I do. I can see it. Sense it. I can practically smell it on him.

“For now, though,” he says. “I want to thank you for a lovely evening. It's one I won't forget anytime soon.”

It's one I probably won't be able to forget – ever. I have no doubt that it's going to live on in my memory as the most intense and erotic night of my life. And I'm already sure that I'll forever be comparing future sexual experiences to this one night – and likely finding that they don't measure up.

He turns, and I watch him walk back toward the house. My legs still a little weak and shaky, I sit down on the bench and let the warmth of such an incredible experience wash over me once more. I revel in the memory and feel the longing for more already burning within me.

“Damn you,” I whisper. “God damn you.”

And damn me for letting it happen.