The whiskey burned down my throat, but it was nothing compared to the fire in my veins as I watched her.
She was dangerous—I knew it the second she stepped inside. The party raged on below, the echoes of laughter and clinking glasses seeping through the walls. My father was down there, my fiancée (whom I'd never seen) too, waiting for me to return.
But I wasn't going back. Not yet.
She stood before me, draped in a dress so black it seemed to drink the light, clinging to her like a second skin. The mask shielded most of her face, but those light green eyes gleamed through the slits, locked onto me with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.
"Who sent you?" My voice came out rougher than I intended.
She smiled, slow and deliberate, as if she had all the time in the world. Her fingers, cool and delicate, brushed against the knot of my tie. "Why do you assume someone sent me?"
"Because women don't just walk into my room uninvited."
Her smile widened as she tugged the tie loose, sliding it from my collar with agonizing patience. "Maybe I'm not most women."
My heart slammed against my ribs. I should have stopped her—should have stepped back and demanded answers. But I stood there, frozen, letting her undo the buttons of my shirt one by one.
I exhaled sharply when she pressed her palm against my chest, fingers splayed, nails scraping lightly over my skin.
"Your heart's racing," she murmured, tilting her head. "Are you nervous, soon to be married man?"
The word sent a jolt through me. She knew.
Of course, she did. Everyone in the whole damn city knew. It was an introduction of the century. This wasn't a coincidence.
"Who are you?" My grip tightened around her wrist, but she didn't flinch. If anything, she leaned in closer, her lips mere inches from mine.
"You ask too many questions."
Before I could react, she was on her knees.
My breath hitched as she unbuckled my belt in one swift motion, her fingers slowly cupping over my growing arousal. She was too confident, too experienced, as if she'd done this before—but not just with anyone.
Like she had planned this. Like she had planned me.
"Wait." My voice was hoarse, strained. This was a mistake. A beautiful, intoxicating mistake.
She looked up at me, those green eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Do you want me to stop?"
Yes.
But my hands told a different story as they tangled into her hair, fingers tightening.
She took me into her mouth, and I lost the ability to think. My mind went blank as I moaned in pure ecstasy.
A ragged moan tore from my throat as she worked me expertly, her tongue flicking over my sensitive flesh with deliberate strokes. The pleasure built too fast, too intense, like she was unraveling me one touch at a time.
But just as I was about to lose myself completely, precum was already escaping my cap, she pulled away, her lips curling into a smirk as precum dripped from her small red lips.
"Not yet," she whispered, pushing me backward onto the bed.
I fell like a feather, like I weighed nothing.
She climbed onto me, straddling my waist, the silk of her dress pooling around her thighs. My hands found her hips, gripping them tightly as I searched her face for any sign of hesitation. But there was none.
Just confidence. Control. A woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
And I was helpless to stop her from taking it.
My hands found the zipper to her dress and I zipped her down easily. She removed her gown without any hesitation and threw it on the floor alongside my clothes.
Damn the door was unlocked. I forgot to lock it.
"Hold on...." I said as I turned and went to lock the door.
She got me back in the same position in no time. She started straddling me and riding hard. I held her hips to slow her down but her body said something entirely different.