Unmasked / Inked. Stefanie London

through her as Damian nipped at her breast. His tongue circled her before he drew her back into his mouth, the pressure building inside her. Rising until she felt like she’d explode.

      “I’m going to get you off again.”

      “Again?”

      “Yes, princess.”

      The soft words made her tremble, her sex pulsing hotly. Begging. Pleading. She nodded.

      “Don’t be quiet, okay? I want to hear you this time.” He pressed his lips to her breast as his hand trailed down her stomach and landed on her thigh. “Can you do that for me?”

      “Yes.”

      Hot palms slid up her thighs, pushing the fabric of her dress up to her hips. He moved aside the triangle of lace covering her sex and eased her open with gentle fingers. Probing. Teasing. A gasp caught in her throat.

      “You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned into her ear.

      His eyes were dark and smoky, his mouth slack with desire. She had done this to him. Feminine power hummed through her body, mixing with the excitement that flamed as he teased her clit with his thumb.

      He knew exactly where to press, how hard to push and when to ease back. Orgasm welled within her, threatening to crash over her at any moment. True to his promise, he brought her to the brink and let her hover there, suspended. Weightless. Wanting.

      This time he didn’t rush her, choosing to toy with her instead. “We’re almost there. Just hold it for a little longer.”

      He traced slow, maddening circles around her clit. She forced her hips not to buck, to let him give her this experience. He controlled the pace and therefore controlled her pleasure. Controlled her. Nails bit into her thighs as she resisted the urge to thrust against his hand. She was so close...so very close.

      “Take it,” he growled.

      He applied the last bit of pressure she needed to tip over, and the air evaporated from her lungs as she fell, fell, fell. She pressed her face into his neck, letting her cries of pleasure vibrate against his skin. Shudders ran through her body, deadening her limbs as she rubbed against his hand until there was nothing left. Until she’d squeezed every last bit of pleasure out.

      Lainey wondered if she’d died and gone to some kind of sexual nirvana. She’d been with a few guys who liked the thrill of a public grope—alleyways, nightclubs, taxis. But it had never been her thing.

      Until now.

      She had a feeling Damian could make her want sex in any possible way, in any possible position. And maybe a few impossible ones, as well. He had a power over her that should have been frightening...only it wasn’t. It was the most thrilling, liberating thing she’d ever experienced, and they’d barely scratched the surface.

      The sounds and sights of the world cut into her hazy post-sex glow. The honk of horns, tram bells ringing and sirens wailing. Lights flashed in her peripheral vision as they passed the hustle and bustle of the Flinders Street railway station.

      Thank God for tinted windows.

      “Do you feel like a queen yet?” His hand came to her jaw, tilting her face up to his as he brushed a thumb across the string of black beads shadowing her cheek.

      “I’m certainly in the realm of royalty, but I’m not done yet.” She leaned forward, endorphins emboldening her, and slid her hand between their bodies.

      Through the thin wool of his tuxedo trousers, he was hard. And long. And thick. Perfect. It was like he’d been created with pleasure in mind. Lainey’s heart skipped a beat. She was really going to do this—have sex with her best friend’s older brother in the back of a limo while he had no idea who she was.

      A chord of unrest struck her, sending tiny pulses of worry through her system. The downside of this situation—of her carrying out her mission perfectly—was that he was willing to sleep with her without knowing a thing about her.

      Are you really complaining because you’re about to get everything you set out for?

      “Why did you agree to this?” she asked, immediately cursing herself for ruining the mood. “With me?”

      “Do you mean because we’re strangers?” He removed her hand from his crotch and ran his palms over her shoulders and arms, caressing her. Soothing her. “Because you’re beautiful and interesting. Mysterious. Do you want me to try harder to convince you to take off your mask?”

      “No.” Her gaze dropped. What did she want?

      “I’m not in the habit of sleeping with anyone who offers, in case that thought is dancing through your mind.” He held her hands. “And I can’t quite explain it, but I feel like I know you even though I don’t. There’s something about you that has me quite...”

      Lainey looked up, smirking. “Aroused?”

      “Yes, but I was going to say ‘enraptured.’”

      Enraptured. The word summed up everything she’d always wanted to be to him but never was.

      Lainey, the crazy magnet. She’d thought once that being wild and impulsive meant she was interesting, but one day she woke up and realised that it exhausted people. But without that persona, who was she? The doubt had plagued her while she made her plans to leave Australia, the little demons in her head telling her to start over. To try her hand at being someone else. Maybe this time she would get it right.

      “I don’t think I’ve ever enraptured anyone before,” she whispered.

      “I sincerely doubt that.”

      The shocking thing was, he sounded sincere. But he didn’t know who was behind the mask, so he couldn’t possibly mean it. It was lip service. Superficial. Words to keep the night moving along so he could get what they’d agreed to. Sex.

      “You know all the right things to say.” She shoved the worries aside and planted her hands against his chest. “Now I guess it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

      * * *

      If Damian’s cock was any harder, he’d be at serious risk of busting the zipper on his trousers. Which would make returning them an interesting experience. Although he already owed Aaron an explanation after he’d quietly demanded that he and Jessie play along with Damian’s “fiancée.”

      Yeah, in the scheme of things, a busted zipper was the least of his problems.

      The redhead pulled her dress back into place and shimmied down his body, dropping to her knees at his feet. Between the sight of that smooth porcelain skin, the pressure of her hands on his thighs and her glossy lips parting in anticipation...oh, hell. He’d be carrying this image to the grave.

      He’d meant what he said earlier. It did feel like he knew the redhead, like they had some existing bond, but that was impossible.

      She reached for his zipper and drew it down. Damian shifted his hips so she could pull his pants and jocks down to his ankles. He probably looked ridiculous in a stuffy tuxedo jacket and mask, naked from the waist down, but he wasn’t physically able to give a fuck at that point. All that mattered now was the anticipation of having the redhead’s lips wrapped around him.

      “Do you want it?” She looked up at him, eyes huge from the extreme angle.

      She looked doll-like, with lips glistening and open, waiting for him. She hovered, teasing, testing.

      “Fuck, yes.”

      “Then take it.”

      He growled on hearing his words come from her lips.

      She didn’t move, she simply opened her mouth and stuck her tongue forward in invitation. He drove between her lips in a single, smooth thrust, and she closed around him tightly. The hot wetness consumed him and stars danced behind his shuttered lids as he gave himself over.

      Both hands burrowed into her