RAFE
She folds into my arms like a dream, as if I’m the only man she’s ever wanted. It’s an illusion, and I know it damn well, but tonight, I’ll let her work her magic. Let her fool me with her charms. God knows how many other men have fallen for them before me.
I don’t care to think about that.
Tonight, this nameless blonde with the laugh that sets my heart alight is mine. All mine.
My hand rests on her jaw, and her eyes are bright, a curiously golden brown beneath the mask. I probably shouldn’t be gazing at her like she’s a walking miracle if this is just a quick fuck. One random night.
I don’t do this—never do this—but for some reason, I’m going to do it for her. If she hadn’t walked into Delirium moments before us, I would likely have had a drink at the bar and quietly made my way home when Henry and Julian were distracted enough not to notice.
Her breath against my lips makes them tingle in a way I can’t recall having happened since I was a teenager. I could stay here doing nothing but breathing in her exhales, trapped in some transcendent bubble.
It’s fucking weird, so I snap out of it and just… kiss her.
It starts slow, lips soft, but when I slip my tongue inside her mouth, she rallies, and each swipe of her tongue against mine lights a fire in my veins. I kiss her with a fervour I can’t control, swallowing the taste of her. Mint mixed with something far sweeter. Chocolate, perhaps.
Before tonight, I hadn’t kissed a woman in far too long, but it’s not abstinence that makes this kiss so heady, it’s something else. She tangles her fingers in my hair, tugging the strands at the back, which has my dick twitching in my pants.
Her mask grazes my cheek. I thought taking mine off might incentivise her to do the same, but she’s determined to keep it on for a reason I can’t fathom. Maybe she is famous and didn’t want to tell me, or maybe she has something to hide.
I wouldn’t care if she did. I’m already invested. Too far gone to stop.
My fingers trace the hem of her dress, and she puts her hand over mine, guiding my touch further up. There is no elastic, no lace trim at her hip. She’s fucking bare underneath. I break away, my breathing heavy.
“You want to do this here?” I ask, glancing around the large room, taking in naked dancers and people fucking out in the open, either in couples or groups. No one appears to be paying us any attention. The lighting is sensual, the glow of the side lights almost pink, like the last hint of a sunset.
We could do it here, but I’m already out of my comfort zone: the anonymity, the mask, the fact she won’t tell me her name. It’s a lot for a guy who’s never had a one night stand.
“It’s a sex club,” she purrs. “We can do anything here, but if you prefer a private room, they’re through there.” She nods her head towards another door.
“A room,” I confirm, and she takes my hand and leads me through the den, as it’s apparently known. Members move about in various states of undress, and we pass a woman on her knees, deep-throating a man in a waistcoat who’s holding a pocket watch like he’s timing her efforts.
But, in spite of everything happening around me, all I can think about is undressing the woman in front of me, whose hand still clasps mine.
Her touch is an electrical charge, and I squeeze her fingers.
She grants me a glance over her shoulder, mouth curving into the most beguiling smile I’ve ever seen.
A man like me has no place here. I don’t do casual. I’m not sure I can.
But fuck it, I’ll try it tonight.
A moment later, she swipes her card on a door.
It clicks open, and we enter a luxurious bedroom decorated with dark walls and perfectly made black satin sheets on the bed.
Handcuffs are linked by chains to the bedposts—something for later, perhaps.
Several of the walls are mirrored, creating the impression of many more of us disappearing into the distance wherever I look.
The blonde stops in the middle of the room, her masked face lit by the golden light spilling from the designer wall-lights around the room.
She’s impossibly beautiful, even with the mask, like a piece of art in a high-end gallery, reflected from every angle.
I’ve never seen a mouth so perfectly formed, a cupid’s bow so distinct that I want to run my finger into the dip to check it’s real.
I want to part those lips and slide my thumb inside. Or better yet, my dick.
Her breasts rise and fall with each trembling breath. She might have looked confident earlier, but there’s a hesitancy about her now, as if she expects me to change my mind and leave her here alone.
I step closer until I’m only inches away, the two of us held in a moment that feels far too intimate for what we’ve agreed to do. For what I’ve all but promised her.
Anonymous sex.
I cup her jaw and run a thumb across her cheekbone.
She turns her head, meeting my palm with her lips and pressing a soft kiss against it.
She’s a perfect creature, and the way her head tips is almost feline as she nuzzles into my hand.
Her softness, her curated femininity with the hair and the nails and painted lips, the dark lashes beneath her mask.
All of it causes an urge to rouse within me, stronger than I’ve ever felt, to take and claim and grip her harder.
I resist, letting her continue to kiss my hand until I can’t bear it anymore. I want those lips on mine. We kiss again, softer this time.
It’s wrong to kiss her like this. It paves the way for intimacy, and if she doesn’t want it, then I’m toeing a dangerous line.
Can sex be anonymous and still sensual? Intimate?
Gentle? I expected something more brutal, given we’ve all but agreed to walk away after this, never knowing one another’s names.
I slide my hand under her dress again—all the way this time—and she gasps into my mouth as my finger trails through the short curls between her legs, skims her lips and finds her sex. Wet. Not that I’m surprised. My dick is hard as fuck already; has been for a while.
I edge a finger around her entrance, and she mewls against my lips, hands tightening around my neck.
“More, please,” she begs.
I slide a finger into her warmth, and she’s so slick, so tight, that an involuntary groan escapes me. Her back arches, and she presses against my hand, grinding her clit on the heel. Her hips rock, and I add a second finger, allowing her to rub herself on me.
A shudder works its way through her body, her breathing growing faster. She can’t be close already, can she? But as I thrust against her G-spot, her movements become feverish.
Her head tips back, eyes closed behind her mask, her perfect mouth spilling noises that feel as good as a tight fist running up and down my shaft.
“Oh, oh… you… you…”
I grunt a laugh as I work her harder and faster. “You want my name?”
“No… no…” she mutters, and in return, I thrust my fingers deeper. She falls apart, a shrill noise falling from her lips as her body tenses.
“Oh, god,” she calls out, her voice trembling with ecstasy.
“God,” I repeat as I continue to stroke her clit, which elicits twitches and jerks from her body that thrill me. “Not the name I’d have chosen, but I’ll take it.”
Her eyes flutter open, seemingly for the sole purpose of allowing her to perform a lethargic eye roll in my direction.
I resist the urge to kiss her again as her body softens in my arms. Our reflection in the mirrors, her rendered helpless by her post-orgasmic bliss, me holding her up, is an erotic tableau I didn’t know I needed.
Her breath comes in gasps. “I knew you’d be good.”
“Ninety seconds good?”
A soft laugh leaves her lips. “Yes.”
Something like pride swells in my chest, but I haven't given her nearly enough to justify it.
I slide my fingers out of her, marvelling at how they glisten with her juices.
She watches, transfixed, as I lick them clean, moaning at her sweetness.
Her eyes widen and her lips part on a soft breath that makes me weak.
“Fuck, you taste good. Turn around. Arms on the bed. Bend over. I want to taste you from the source.”
She obeys, and I push up her dress, exposing her to me completely, pink pussy slick with her cum.
So fucking beautiful. I get to my knees, a hand on each toned thigh, spreading her wider before I fix my mouth between her legs, my senses overloading.
Her warm, soft flesh beneath my fingers, her wet cunt in my mouth, the musky scent of her, my nose grazing her ass.
I thrust my tongue inside, savouring the taste. Fuck, it’s been too long. Maybe I do need a membership to this club.
Maybe I need a membership to this woman.
I feast on her, ravaging her with my mouth, teasing her clit, sucking and flicking until her legs shake and her arms collapse.
“Oh, God… fuck, fuck, just like that… there, right there…” She moans into the sheets, and her words turn to incoherent garbles as her knees buckle and her second orgasm takes her under.
She flops on the bed, her ass still fully exposed. “Give me a second,” she pants. “You’ve finished me.”
I climb onto the bed and haul her up next to me. She lies, limp and wasted, unmoving except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She turns her head to me, one side pressed into the creased sheets, her pale hair a stark contrast to the dark silk.
“I wanted you to take me from behind immediately,” she says, still breathless. “I wanted you to fuck me into oblivion. I wanted it to hurt.”
I prop myself up on my elbows. “Are you disappointed?”
She sighs, not with exasperation, but with what sounds like bliss. “No. Not at all.”
“Good. Will you take off the mask now?” I reach out, but she slaps me away with a lazy hand.
“No.”
“You are famous under there, aren’t you?
” I say, a mocking reprimand in my tone, like I suspect she’s lied to me.
Not that I have any right to the truth from her; she’s entitled to her privacy.
But even so, something about the strength of my reaction to her has me feeling like secrets are unnecessary between us.
On my side, at least. I’d tell her everything about me if she wanted to know it.
She laughs. “No. Not really.”
“So I’m not about to fuck the next Academy Award winner?”
“Definitely not.” A heavy silence spreads between us, which she breaks with a softly mumbled, “Thank you.”
The phrase creeps under my skin, infusing me with a cloying sense of intimacy again.
Perhaps I should have fucked her from behind and gone home, because I am not good at this shit.
She’s lying here, open for the taking, waiting for me to fuck her, and all I can think about is leaning in to kiss her again.
She pushes up on her forearms and takes me in as I lounge on the bed, resting against the pillows, legs outstretched and dick so hard it aches where it presses against the fly of my suit pants.
Her attention snags on it, and she pushes up a little more and edges closer, cupping it over my pants with one hand. Her touch soothes the ache and simultaneously makes it worse. I need more.
“Holy fuck,” she mutters as her fingers wrap around my girth over the fabric. “I mean.. It felt big, but… fuck. How big is this thing?”
I suppress a smile, resting my hands behind my head, and nudge my dick into her hand with a gentle hip thrust.
She scrambles to her knees, fingers fumbling at my pants like she can’t wait a second longer to find out.
I place a hand over hers. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” She freezes. Shit. Maybe that sounded too serious… too committed for this liaison we’re having. I don’t want to scare her off. “Right now, I mean. I’m not going anywhere until we’re finished. You don’t have to rush.”
She shakes her head, the tiniest smile gracing her mouth as if she’s embarrassed by her own eagerness. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Her shoulders drop on an exhale, and she begins again, loosening my fly and edging her hand inside my boxers.
My stomach swoops as she grips my aching cock.
I haven’t been touched like this for far too long and, unable to hold back, I thrust my hips off the bed like I’m trying to fuck her fisted hand.
“No need to rush,” she teases, her eyes sparkling as she takes over the motion, pumping her hand up and down.
I let out a groan, half-desirous, half-ashamed, and her mouth forms the sweetest O shape before curving into a wicked grin. “I knew I picked a good one,” she says. “I could just tell. One look at you and I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“You had a huge dick.”
I chuckle, swiping a hand down my face. This is a fever dream, and if I died in night-sweat-soaked sheets, I wouldn’t care.
She tugs at my pants and briefs, eyes fixed on the bulge beneath.
Fuck taking our time, I need to be naked with this woman, now.
I lift my hips to help her, but she fumbles—too slow—and I take over.
In seconds my pants are flying through the air and landing somewhere on the floor with a clank and thud. Did that look too keen?
Ah, fuck it.
She needs no encouragement to kick off her shoes and slide her dress down her hips, leaving her completely naked and standing at the end of the bed.
Breathing heavily, we stare at one another. She’s all smooth, creamy skin and soft curves. I want to touch her everywhere.
As I lie back on the bed, propped up with pillows and half-naked, it occurs to me that she has total control here. I’d do anything to have her. If she chose to walk away, I’d be destroyed.
With one hand, she teases her nipple, rolling the pink bud between her fingertips.
Lowering her other hand down the neat strip of hair at the apex of her thighs, she curls her fingers to touch her pussy, moaning as she rubs at herself.
Not once does she break eye contact. It’s a private performance just for me, and her sensuous moans travel right to my dick, which leaks a drop of precum in response.
I’m so turned on, my entire body throbs.
The pleasure of teetering on the edge of explosion is a sensation I’d forgotten existed.
I’ve been burying myself in work and family and forgetting about everything else. Dating women who didn’t move me, about whom I didn’t give a fuck. Repressing every need and hint of desire so I can focus on the next million dollars. The next billion.
But here is this gorgeous woman, touching herself right in front of me, reminding me that I’ve neglected a huge part of myself for months. For years.
One night.
But I already know I’m going to want her again. And again. And again.