CHAPTER FOUR
CLAIRE
Allowing a masked man to awaken parts of me I thought had gone dormant was something I never expected. It had been far too long since I’d truly been satisfied by anyone. My vibrator had become my reliable companion, but it lacked the heat and connection of another person.
There was something undeniably magnetic about Angelo. Maybe it was his piercing eyes that seemed to see right through me, his towering height and commanding presence, or the quiet confidence he carried so effortlessly. It certainly didn’t hurt that, at the masquerade ball, several women seemed captivated by him—yet it was me he chose to spend most of the night with.
The thought of his large hands roaming over my body left me feeling flushed and my core throbbing with desire. I vividly recalled our first encounter at an exclusive sex club in the city.
My heart pounded in my chest with anticipation as I made my way into the club. Putting on my mask, I walked confidently through the room, taking note of the various masks worn by others.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I glanced at the screen to see a text message.
Angelo: Room Red seven in the back of the club. Take a left down the hallway.
The color scheme of the club was black. There were leather chairs and sofas everywhere.
The only pops of color came from the servers’ red stilettos as they strutted around serving drinks. I ran my hand over my short black dress and headed to the back of the club.
A woman caught my eye, sipping a martini. Beside her, a man knelt on all fours, her crimson stiletto perched firmly on his back. The dominance in her posture was unmistakable. I wondered, was she a dominatrix?
I made a left down the dimly lit hallway. Every door was red. I halted in front of red seven.
After knocking once, I announced myself and the door creaked open. My eyes immediately landed on his gold mask, framed by jet black hair. His violet eyes sent shivers down my spine.
“Come in,” he said, his deep voice filling the room.
I sauntered inside and he closed the door behind me before helping me remove my jacket. Once it was off, I stepped closer to the bed and ran my hand over the soft red sheets.
“This is sexy,” I commented.
A deep chuckle rumbled in Angelo’s chest. “It is.” He stepped to the bar.
“What would you like?” he asked.
“Vodka on the rocks,” I replied, taking a seat on the bed. I leaned over to place my clutch on the red nightstand, noticing how every aspect of this room was indeed red.
Angelo joined me on the bed and handed me my drink. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip.
“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” he asked.
“I don’t drive in the city. My bodyguards drove, and they found it easily.”
“Bodyguards?” He took a sip of his whiskey.
“Yes. They came with an SUV and a luxurious condo. Perks from my benefactor’s company.”
“Sounds like you have a powerful benefactor backing you,” he said, taking another gulp of his drink.
“But we’re not here to talk about our lives,” he said as our eyes locked. “You’re here for pleasure.”
I gulped down my drink, welcoming the burn. “Yes, I am. But I have one rule.”
He smirked, taking my glass from my hand. “No kissing on the lips? This isn’t just about physical pleasure.”
“It’s about separating emotions from pleasure,” I clarified.
He chuckled. “You can’t separate the two?”
I amended my statement, acknowledging his talented hands. “Well, it might be difficult with someone as skilled as you.”
Angelo placed our empty glasses on the nightstand and removed his suit jacket before tossing it onto a nearby chair. His expensive watch caught the light from the chandelier, making it glimmer.
He strode to the foot of the bed, rolling up his crisp white dress shirt sleeves just below his elbows. “It’s time to give you what you want.”
With a flick of his wrist, Angelo tossed me onto the center of the bed, causing my body to tingle with excitement. This gorgeous man was about to use his mouth on me. And even though I couldn’t see his face behind the mask, I knew he was beautiful. But that didn’t matter; I was here for pleasure, not getting to know each other. I just wanted him to make me come all over those sexy lips and his tongue. I hoped his tongue was as skilled as his hands.
As I waited with anticipation, my chest rose and fell rapidly. Angelo lowered himself onto the bed, sliding his hands under my dress and removing my panties.
“I’m keeping these,” he said, bringing them to his nose and inhaling deeply. His piercing violet eyes met mine. “They smell like roses and your sweet fucking pussy.”
Oh shit. My pussy clenched at his words.
Smirking, Angelo stuffed my navy lace panties into his pocket. My tongue slicked over my lips as I longed for his touch, pleasure spreading through my body.
His large hands gently touched my legs, leaving trails of fiery sensations on my skin.
Angelo yanked my dress over my head. I was left in just my navy lace bra. I felt both exposed and alive under his intense gaze. His eyes seemed to drink in every curve and dip of my body, making me gasp.
“Your mocha skin is stunningly beautiful,” he remarked, his tongue gliding over his pink lips.
“Fuck, I’m going to enjoy pleasing you,” he muttered.
I couldn’t resist reaching out to touch him; last time, I had rubbed him through his slacks, but this time I wanted more. I unbuttoned his pants as our eyes locked.
“That’s not happening tonight,” he growled.
“What’s not happening?” I questioned innocently.
“Sex. I’m not fucking you with my cock. But I will fuck you with my tongue.”
“But we’re here to have sex,” I reminded him as my hand slipped into his boxers and wrapped around his long, thick dick. My mouth watered at the thought of tasting him.
“No, you’re here to be pleased in whatever way I see fit,” he gritted out.
“Lay down,” he ordered.
I released his dick and dropped back onto the firm mattress.
He didn’t bother fastening his pants, leaving the huge bulge on full display. How was this guy still single? Maybe it was because he was controlling or possessive. That was probably what I needed from him.
Angelo leaned over me and his lips hovered over my taut nipple.
“Open your legs,” he ordered huskily. “And grind your pussy on my dick. I want to go home smelling like your sweetness.”
“Oh God, Angelo,” I moaned, feeling a familiar heat swell between my thighs. “Don’t say stuff like that.”
“Like what? The truth?” He smirked before taking my nipple into his warm, wet mouth.
My back arched off the bed as I followed his instructions, circling my pussy over his impressive member. As I moved, I couldn’t help but think about bringing a mold next time; I’d love to have a replica of his dick to use whenever I wanted.
That way, when we eventually stopped seeing each other, I’d still have a part of him with me.
His hands wandered to my ass, squeezing and pressing my pussy lips harder against his throbbing cock.
“Angelo. Oh fuck,” I cried out in ecstasy, feeling him smile around my nipple before taking more of it into his mouth his teeth grazed my nipple in the process.
His hands pushed my hip down, urging me to arch my back as his tongue traced down my belly, over my clit, and into my wet core.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit,” I roared as he gripped my hips and thighs with his large hands, leaving marks that I hoped would still be visible tomorrow.
“Fuck, you taste good. And so sweet,” he groaned before picking up the pace and circling his thumb over my sensitive nub until I reached an explosive climax.
Through half-lidded eyes, I saw Angelo smirking up at me as he continued licking and sucking on my slick folds. I came so hard that it was messy - all over his face and the mask he wore.
I blinked a few times, shaking off my thoughts as I stood outside my design studio, waiting for Vino to arrive. This wasn’t a date—just two people sharing a meal. Nothing more. An SUV rolled to a stop behind mine.
You can’t go out with him, Claire.
I turned away from my bodyguards, striding purposefully toward the warehouse door. I’d tell him I couldn’t go. No, I’d say I didn’t want to go.
“Claire.” His deep voice hit my insides, sending a shiver to my core.
“Where are you going?”
I couldn’t bring myself to turn around and face him. “I don’t want to share a meal with you.”
Footsteps sounded behind me, deliberate and heavy. My hand gripped the door handle, fumbling for the keys in my bag. Before I could pull them out, a firm hand clasped my arm.
“Why are you having second thoughts?”
“I can’t do this, Vino,” I murmured.
He leaned in, his breath warm on the crown of my head. “You’re strong, Claire. And to stay strong, you need to eat.”
“I told you I don’t want anything to happen between us.”
He chuckled, low and quiet. “I know, Claire.” His grip loosened and his hand slid down my arm until he was holding my small hand in his larger one.
“My SUV or yours?” he asked, leading me toward the curb as if I’d already agreed.
“Mine.”
He nodded, meeting my gaze. “Good.”
The difference between Angelo and Vino? Angelo wore a mask when we spent time together. With Vino, there were no barriers. I could see his handsome face, and that was dangerous.
Don’t fall for him, Claire.
I tried to tug my hand free, but he held firm, his smirk teasing. “Too much physical contact?” he asked, clearly enjoying himself.
Renato opened the car door, and I climbed inside, with Vino sliding in beside me. Amadeo, seated behind the wheel, gave a polite nod.
“I had a quick chat with your bodyguards before I ran after you,” Vino said. “Nice guys.”
I arched a brow. “You didn’t run after me.”
He shrugged. “You walked fast. I took long strides.”
Amadeo peeked over his shoulder. “Where to?”
Vino rattled off an address, and Amadeo began driving.
I fastened my seatbelt, sneaking a glance at Vino. The tan suit hugged his broad frame, the hint of a skull tattoo peeking from beneath his jacket sleeve.
“We could have dressed casually for dinner,” I commented.
“I don’t often dress casual unless I’m at home,” Vino replied.
In contrast, my yellow sundress felt light and easy, flowing just past my knees.
“Did you design this dress?” he asked, surprising me.
“Yes,” I said, my enthusiasm spilling over as I explained the fabric’s softness and cut. He listened with a quiet intensity until Amadeo pulled up to the restaurant.
The warm breeze and sunshine felt good on my skin as we approached the entrance. Vino spoke briefly with the hostess before she led us to a booth near the kitchen. He sat across from me, his blue eyes scanning the restaurant.
The restaurant’s air conditioning sent a chill through me.
“You’re cold,” Vino observed.
He quickly stood up, took off his jacket, and draped it over my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I said with a smile.
Our server introduced himself and went over the specials. Vino ordered a bottle of red wine.
“Take your time looking over the menu, and I’ll be back with the wine shortly,” our server, Lepree, said with a smirk towards Vino.
As I perused the menu, I tried to think of ways to avoid going out to eat with Vino again. Even though this wasn’t technically a date, it definitely felt like one. Should I just ignore him? Would that turn him off? I peeked at him from behind my menu. Did he really care about my opinions on fashion design, or was he just pretending to keep me talking and happy? Time to switch things up.
“So, Vino, tell me about yourself.” I forced a polite, neutral smile.
The server returned to pour our wine and take our orders. Once he was gone, Vino’s gaze found mine.
“I enjoy teaching life-changing lessons,” he said, his tone enigmatic.
I blinked. What was that supposed to mean?
“In my downtime, I hunt, and for sport, I shoot clay disks.” He pointed a finger at me, his tone playful.
“I also prioritize taking care of my body by working out regularly.”
He left three buttons undone on his tan dress shirt, revealing a skeleton tattoo on his neck and a larger tattoo on his chest that I couldn’t quite make out. Was it a sword handle?
“Do you model for fun, or is it a passion?” I asked, raising my wine glass to my lips.
A devilish smirk appeared on his face. “Definitely a passion project.”
“I hope you don’t mind all the questions. Did you come from wealth, or did you have to work for your money?”
He took a long sip of wine, his intense gaze holding mine. “My family’s wealth was established long before I was born. But it’s my responsibility to expand and create new revenue streams to keep the legacy growing.”
“That makes sense. So you’re not just a pretty face,” I teased. “Did you go to college?”
He chuckled heartily. “I went to Penn State and got my degree in Finance.I’m a numbers guy investing in stocks, businesses, and whatever else grows the family fortune.”
“What about you? Where did you go to school?” he asked.
“Berkeley. I wanted a change of scenery, and the West Coast felt like an adventure. My dad was shocked when I moved to New York, though. I hate cold weather, and I’m from Charleston, South Carolina, where it’s warm most of the year. But when you’re hungry for success and driven by your vision, you’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.”
The server arrived, setting our plates down with practiced precision. We both thanked him and turned our attention to the meal.
Though I wasn’t starving—Angelo had sent lunch to my office earlier—the aroma of the pasta carbonara with grilled chicken was too good to resist. I twirled a forkful and took a bite, savoring the creamy sauce.
Vino mirrored me, nodding as he chewed. Without saying a word, we agreed: the food was exceptional.
“Have you been here before?” I asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Not to this location,” he replied. “But I’ve been to the one in Hackensack plenty of times. My dad’s an old friend of the owner, so we’d been going there since I was a kid.”
“Can you cook?” I asked, keeping my tone casual.
“Yeah. When you come over, I’ll make dinner for us.”
My smile faltered, and my stomach knotted. “Vino, I’m not ever going to your house. You can continue to take your women to your home. If you want to play, we can meet at a hotel. Your money doesn’t impress me. I’ve dated rich men before, and I still don’t understand why you’re all so drawn to me. This was a mistake.”
Grabbing my purse, I stood. “Thanks for dinner.”
Before I could take another step, Vino’s hand closed around my wrist, firm but not painful. His cold blue eyes locked onto mine, sending a shiver down my spine that I knew he felt. “Sit down, Claire,” he commanded, his voice low and firm.
My heart raced as I stood frozen. Before I could protest, he stood up and towered over me. I could feel the other patrons staring at us from across the restaurant.
I craned my neck to look up at him.
“Have a seat,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “We need to talk.”
I sighed, exasperated. “I already know what this is about. You don’t have a woman, but you probably do, and now you want to play with this black woman because you can’t marry outside your race. Not that I’d ever marry you.”
His voice dropped to a growl. “Sit. The. Fuck. Down, Claire.”
Against my better judgment, I sank back into the booth. I didn’t know why I obeyed. Maybe I wanted to avoid a scene or buy time to make an escape through the kitchen.
My pulse pounded in my ears as I edged closer to the wall. He leaned in, his arm bracing the back of the seat and his other arm planted firmly on the table, boxing me in.
“Claire,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding, “I haven’t let a woman into my house or my bed in years. I fuck elsewhere—hotels, mostly.”
I stared at the seat across from me, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Claire,” he bit out, his tone sharp as a blade, “look at me.”
Reluctantly, I turned my head, our eyes locking in a battle of wills.
“You will come to my house,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “And when you do, I’ll not only cook for you, I’ll fuck you. Because you’re the only woman I want in my fucking bed.”
“Vino,” I said, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me, “I told you I don’t do relationships. I don’t commit to just one guy. Nothing exclusive.”
His jaw tightened, and his voice dropped an octave. “Who made you like this? You’ve barely let your guard down with me, but that’s going to change.”
“No, it won’t,” I shot back, my tone firm.
He leaned in closer, the intensity in his eyes making it hard to breathe. “We’ll see about that.”
My chest rose and fell. I could feel the heat building between us.
“Your pussy is dripping wet for me right now. Isn’t it?” he chuckled.
“Vino,” I warned.
“If I slide my hand up your dress and slip my finger into your tight little pussy, will you be wet for me?”
His nose brushed the shell of my ear. My nipples betrayed me, pebbling to tiny hard points.
I refused to answer him. He sat up and peered into my eyes as his hand eased up my inner thigh. “I bet you’re soaked.” His finger brushed along the seat of my panties.
“That’s interesting. Your panties are wet.” He eased his fingers into my panties, pressing against my drenched folds. My legs parted like the fucking red sea for him. I refused to worry about the patrons possibly watching us.
“You’re so fucking wet for me. Just like I knew you would be. I’m going to finger fuck that sweet hole. I have a feeling it won’t take that long for you to come all over my fingers.”
“Vino,” I moaned. “This changes nothing. I’m-”
“You’re right,” he cut off my words. “You’ll still ride my dick.” He thrusted two fingers back and forth inside me. “And you’ll ride my face.”
My mouth formed an O as pleasure coursed through my body and I whimpered as I came all over his hand.
“Such a good girl,” he praised, pulling his wet fingers out and exploring my clit for a moment, intensifying the orgasm. Then his mouth crashed down on mine, silencing my moans so no one would know he was pleasuring me. I eagerly kissed him back, and our tongues tangled in a heated dance.
Pull back, Claire. He’s trying to own you.
I broke our kiss just as he slipped his fingers out of my pussy and shoved them into his mouth.
He sucked them clean. “Mmm, so fucking delicious.”
“No more eating together,” I said firmly.
“Why not?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
“I’ll find that guy who messed with your pretty little head,” he declared, determination shining in his eyes. “And have a talk with him.”
“You can’t,” I protested. “He’s not accessible. And besides, I walked away from him. Let him be.”
He smirked like he was considering it. “Well, if you need anything while I’m gone this week for business, just let me know and I’ll drop everything to come to you.”
“We’re not together, Vino,” I reminded him. “So there’s no need for that.”
“But next week,” he said confidently. “You’ll ride my fat cock.”
I visibly swallowed at the thought.
“Let’s meet at my place next week,” I blurted out, hesitating to go to his place. For some reason, I knew that if I did, I would enjoy it. He leaned back in his seat and placed my food in front of me before grabbing his own plate from across the table and setting it down in front of him.
“Okay, I’ll come over,” he agreed.
“Just for sex. No need to bring dinner,” I reminded him.
He nodded, seeming tired of our constant arguments about this issue.
Was he serious when he said he didn’t bring women home anymore? It didn’t really matter. I just needed to avoid going to Vino’s house. I had a feeling that once I was there, he would try to convince me to spend the night, and that was something I wasn’t ready for.
I stabbed at my food with my fork, trying to shake the uneasy feeling settling over me. My resolve was firm—I wouldn’t step foot in his house. Something about that felt too permanent, too intimate. If I went there, I knew he’d try to make me stay, and I wasn’t letting that happen.
My eyes drifted to him, catching his handsome profile as he focused on his plate. His sharp jawline, his confident posture. It frustrated me how easily I gave into him. And when he licked his fingers clean, all I could think about was pulling his hand back up my dress.
“Just sex,” I reiterated.
“Sure, Claire,” he replied, his tone dripping with disbelief.
This man was relentless. He was trying to turn us into something we weren’t. Something I couldn’t let us be. He was right. My past had scarred me, leaving behind haunting memories that were sad, dark, and twisted. Memories that were my burden alone, secrets I could never share with anyone else.