Chapter 3 Bruno
brUNO
“Share?” Piercing green eyes glitter at me from behind that sleek peach and blue mask.
Her voice, sharp with a clear Irish accent, has soft undertones that send exciting shivers down my spine, and it takes all my control not to just take her by the hand and get a taste of those full, luscious red lips.
“Share,” I repeat. “Unless you don’t trust me.”
Her head lazily tilts to the left. “Do I trust the masked stranger? You ask such bold questions.”
“Well, it’s a night for taking risks, isn’t it? Why else would the most dangerous people in the city wear masks and dance like old friends?”
She blinks, her dark lashes briefly kissing the edge of her eye mask, and smiles. “Indeed. So, how do you propose we share?”
“Ladies first.” Maintaining eye contact, I offer the glass to her lips but leave it hovering an inch away so she has to lean forward if she wants to drink. Her ruby red lips part an inch and her eyes dart down to the glass, then back up to me.
“What a gentleman.” The woman leans forward and presses her lower lip to the edge of the glass. Just as I start to tilt it, her warm hand closes around my wrist and she applies slight pressure, a hint or perhaps a warning that while she’s allowing me to do this, she’s in control.
Not that I mind.
Her eyes sparkle like gemstones, reflecting the golden light above, and each glittering sparkle rises like a secret I can’t quite hear.
I’m utterly transfixed as her lips part slightly wider and the first trickle of the champagne pours into her mouth.
I tip the glass until I’m sure she has a mouthful, then I ease it away.
Her lips close and her eyelashes flutter slightly as she swallows.
Not a word is spoken as I lift the glass, now stained with a red crescent from her lips, to my own mouth and drink a mouthful.
Her hand remains on my wrist the entire time.
The flute glasses don’t hold much so the next mouthful is hers.
We move much the same with only the odd blink breaking the intense eye contact we’re maintaining.
I should look away so I don’t intimidate her, but there’s something about the intensity of her eyes that draws me in.
Maybe it’s the mask adding to the allure or the secrecy that she could be anyone in the world and yet she’s right here, playing my game of sharing a drink.
With the second mouthful, her fingers flex briefly against my wrist as she swallows and glances away down at my suit.
Then she looks back into my eyes and smirks briefly.
My second mouthful is as smooth as the first and only a small amount remains.
For her.
Her lips press against the glass and she parts them wider this time.
I tip the glass further and allow the last of the champagne to pour into her mouth.
As I pull the glass away and she closes her mouth, a single droplet of champagne catches on the edge of her mouth and slowly rolls half an inch down her chin.
My heart skips a beat as that single droplet rolls down peachy pale skin that I find myself hungering for a taste of. I don’t know if it’s the lack of human contact over these past years or a lack of feminine presence that has me so enamored of this stranger, but I’m jealous of that droplet.
She slowly drags her pink tongue over her lower lip as if chasing the droplet, but she’s just shy of reaching it, so I lift my other hand and delicately cup her jaw.
Our eyes meet once more while my thumb glides across her chin, catching the droplet and caressing the swell of her lower lip at the same time.
“See?” I say, fighting to keep the excited tremble out of my words as she curls her lower lip into her mouth. “It tastes sweeter shared.”
We barely make it to the nearby closet before our lips crash against one another and the glass slips from my grasp, shattering somewhere on the floor where we once stood.
It’s scarcely a thought as we stumble into the closet, entwined in one another’s arms. She kicks the door closed behind us then shoves me up against the wall with a gasp.
Her fingers are like claws pressing through my shirt and her mouth is as soft and as sweet as I imagined.
Sweeter, in fact, with the lingering taste of champagne clinging to her tongue.
It’s almost pitch black in here, not that I care, and something solid collides with my shin as I grasp her by the waist and switch our positions.
A plastic bucket clatters to my left. A collection of bottles clink and clatter against one another when my elbow hits a set of shelves in my eagerness to rid myself of my suit jacket.
Her hands are at my belt, tugging and wrestling with the leather while her breath ghosts over my cheek in short, sharp pants, betraying her eagerness. We don’t speak. The same fire clearly burns in both our veins.
She gasps when I help her undo my belt and open my pants, then my mouth is back on hers, swallowing down her soft moan of desire.
My blood runs hot, igniting a long, quiet desire in my soul to fuck and hear the hungry sounds of pleasure from a beautiful woman.
The bodice of her dress is firm and unforgiving under my wandering hands, and she arches into me as I stroke down, down, down to the silky fabric of her skirt.
Her hands meet mine and together, we drag her skirt up to her waist. As soon as she gathers the material in one hand, I dip low enough to grab her strong thighs and lift her up the wall.
Her legs latch around my waist, drawing me closer.
I use my bulk to keep her up against the wall as blood races south, and I’m harder than I’ve been in years.
Every fiber of my being aches to be close to her, to be inside her, to hear her moans and whimpers and cries as I fuck her until she can’t walk.
Her dress and the masks deny me most of what I ache for, so I settle for claiming her lips in a deep, hungry kiss.
Energy matches energy. Each bite of her lip is matched by her long nails piercing into the back of my neck and the thick meat of my shoulder.
Each graze of my nails down her thighs is met by her thrusting her tongue deep into my mouth and pulling hard on my hair with her other hand.
She claws at me, drawing me closer and closer while simultaneously pushing me away.
My heart pounds in my ears, my blood races around my body, igniting the fires of desire from my chest to my core, and my cock throbs in time to my racing heart.
I kiss her hard, shoving her into the wall and keeping her there while fumbling one hand on my boxers to free myself.
The heat of her pussy brushes against the back of my wrist and I can’t hide my smirk.
Just a touch is enough to show me how utterly soaked she is already, and with how she pulls my hair, she’s an impatient woman.
I claim her full lips in another kiss as I jerk her panties to the side and thrust my cock deep into her silken heat.
Her loud moan echoes in my mouth as I refuse to let it escape, and she tightens her grip on my shoulder and my hair.
Two thrusts and I’m buried fully inside her silken heat.
Her hot walls are almost too much to bear as they tremble and clench around my cock.
It takes all my restraint not to come right there and then.
She tightens her legs around my waist and digs her heels into the small of my back, then slides one hand to cup my cheek and caress my jaw.
“Fuck. Me.”
A demand I simply can’t turn down. I fuck hard and fast, releasing a decade of pent-up sexual desire and frustration.
It’s a miracle I don’t come immediately, but this woman, whoever she is, is giving me this and I’m determined to make her time as good as mine.
Each kiss is a battle to stay connected as my thrusts jolt her up and down the wall.
She clings to me as hard as she can, moaning deeply and chanting yes each time my thrusts make her feel particularly good.
When the kisses break, her head tosses back and forth, and at one point, her touch lingers at the base of my mask but she doesn’t remove it.
The temptation is there, but the mystery is part of the allure.
Harder and harder I fuck her while my head falls to the crook of her shoulder and I lay what kisses I can to her bare shoulder and collar bone.
With her legs keeping her against me, I caress from her thigh to her pelvis and slide my thumb down to cover the small bundle of nerves tucked between her lips.
Contact to her clit makes her whimper a new sound that drives me to fuck her harder while stroking and caressing her clit as gently as I can.
She comes with a muted scream and nearly tears my hair out with how hard her body tenses and ripples against mine. As soon as her pussy clamps down around my cock, I’m weak to my own pleasure and I come with a gasp, slamming my hips as deep into her as I can reach.
It’s bliss, a rush of pleasure and endorphins like I haven’t felt in years.
I want more. I crave the bite of her nails and the pull of her fingers, the sweetness of her lips and the softness of her skin.
But as soon as we come together and share that tidal wave of ecstasy, the moment is over and she’s climbing out of my arms.
She sorts herself in record time, adjusting her dress and her mask from what I can make out in the low light. I’m slower, but she helps me find my belt from a nest of mops and then affectionately pats my cheek with her hand.
“Nice meeting you,” she says with a final kiss to the edge of my jaw. I get one last glimpse of her as she opens the closet door and light from the party makes her glow. Under her mask, her cheeks are rosy and her lipstick is smudged. She’s fixing it as she looks back at me and winks.
Then she’s gone.
What a woman.
I wait a little longer after redressing myself and ensuring my mask is back in place, then I step out of the closet and return to the party.
It’s still as vibrant and as lively as it was when I arrived, and despite the lingering good feelings from my closet tryst, this place quickly gives me a headache.
Too many people and too much noise. From my pants pocket, I pull a crumpled up note and skim the details of the mask I’m looking for.
A black and white checkered mask with three black feathers and one silver.
That’s my target.
Moving through the party, I find myself looking for the peach and blue mask of my mystery woman, but it never reappears. Maybe she was just a dream. Like all the rest.
Finally, after three loops of the ballroom, I find the mask I’m looking for. It rests on the face of a tall, broad-shouldered man with combed silver hair and an equally well-kept silver beard that shines out against his golden skin. He’s a few shades darker than I remember, but it has been years.
Fourteen years, to be exact.
I approach him slowly, and the crowd parts as he excuses himself from a discussion, waving his empty glass. He’s about to step around me when I reach for his arm, and the moment I make contact, it all comes flooding back.
The years of pain and hurt, anger and loss. All because of him. All because I tried to be the best and it was never good enough.
He grunts and regards me with a sharp frown visible even through his mask and jerks his arm away. “Excuse me?”
I take a deep breath and slide my mask from my face. Recognition bleeds across his face, followed by shock and the unmistakable angry tic of his jaw.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say as calmly as I can. “Hello, Father.”