Eight Adriana
T HE BUILDING THAT housed the Seven Sins was anything but another nondescript establishment, blending in with the other pleasure halls and taverns that lined the crammed streets of the night district. The club was easily the crown jewel of the circle. It was decadent, indulgent—arguably the most beautiful building aside from House Gluttony.
Alabaster stone walls gleamed in the moonlight, freshly buffed and shining enticingly; the roof had the palest blue shingles, resembling an enchanted castle from a fairy tale.
It looked like the sort of place where dreams and fantasies were real and mundane life faded away. I couldn’t help but be caught up in the magic for a few moments.
Music spilled from open doors where patrons of nearby establishments gathered, the scent of food wafting into the cobbled street, making me regret not sampling from the cold dinner platter of pickled vegetables, cured meat, and cheese Carlo had offered earlier.
Ryleigh led us down a narrow snow-covered alleyway, empty save for us, then stopped before a solid metal door.
I shivered in place, both from the cold night air and from an odd sense that tonight would either be very good, or very bad, for reasons I couldn’t yet identify.
“Watch.”
Ryleigh held the magic key to the center, and the door immediately shimmered, then disappeared, revealing an empty corridor inside. Ryleigh pulled me through the opening just as the door materialized behind us again, sealing us off from the alleyway.
And just like that, we were in the Seven Sins.
Well, the empty corridor leading to the main lounge, at least.
Magic sizzled over my skin, the glamour already working to disguise me.
I was grateful for the moment of privacy to steady myself. I stared down at my borrowed shoes, the heeled slippers as clear as ice.
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat, my nerves buzzing. The first hurdle was crossed; the club had granted me entry. Now I needed to do my best to get information for my article without giving myself away. Glamour would hide my identity, but if I asked too many pointed questions, someone was bound to figure out my job.
“Ready?” Ryleigh whispered.
“Almost.”
On the short walk over from the Scene Stealer to the Seven Sins, Ryleigh had quietly told me about the layout—on the main level there were seven lounges that connected to the central lounge, each dedicated to a different sin.
Upstairs, personal rooms were available to rent and could be used for whatever the patrons wished: private gambling, trysts, or anything else that was craved behind closed doors.
Downstairs housed an indoor lagoon, bathrooms, wine cellar, and a place for masks to be replaced or clothes to be changed to keep up the guests’ anonymity as they left.
On the very top floor was a roof with a botanical garden, known for its wide variety of night-blooming flowers and trees, though according to Ryleigh, it was hardly ever used. Most enjoyed the seven lounges or the lower levels, leaving the roof empty each night.
I couldn’t recall where the exit was and didn’t like the idea of being trapped when Ryleigh and I parted ways.
“How do we leave?” I asked, staring at the spot where the door used to be. “Oh!”
I clapped a hand over my mouth. I’d forgotten my voice would be disguised by the magic too. I sounded like sin made flesh; my voice was sultry and seductive, practically a low, inviting purr that made my own nipples harden.
Ryleigh shot an amused glance my way. I took a moment to really look at her instead of focusing on my surroundings. Her glamour was stunning. Her brunette hair had shifted to a luminous golden chestnut, her face a bit more heart-shaped than before, her lips lush and full and made for all sorts of sinful things.
I wondered how I appeared, then reminded myself to focus on work, my surroundings. Tonight wasn’t about pleasure. For me, at least.
I glanced around.
A solid, beautiful mural-covered wall was now in the door’s place, the pale blues and icy white hues of the wide-open sky undoubtedly meant to be soothing.
Two towering ice dragons flew through the air, their scales sparkling like diamonds, their iridescent eyes glimmering.
They were the most majestic, fearsome creatures in the realm, and I couldn’t help but stare at their giant forms, twisting through the clouds, so free and unencumbered. I’d only ever seen an ice dragon once at House Gluttony, and that had been from a distance. Whoever the artist was, they’d caught the essence of the elusive dragons beautifully in the mural.
But even the stunning art of the northern sky couldn’t quell my rapid pulse.
I wasn’t claustrophobic, but I despised being trapped. Right now, I was as far from the ice dragons and their freedom as possible. I might as well be stuck in a deep, dark cave.
“How do we leave?” I asked again, ignoring the dulcet tone of my voice.
“Relax, Ad.” Ryleigh took my hand again and strode down the wide corridor. “The exit is at the other end of the club. If you need help, ask someone tending the bar.”
She paused in front of an ornately carved set of double doors, turning to look me over.
“You’re sure this disguise is okay?” I asked.
I knew I could trust the magic, but what if it failed?
I reached up, my fingers brushing the edge of my mask.
It was solid pale blue lace, and I didn’t expect it to hide my features at all, considering only a slightly more condensed patch of lace covered my eyes, but it had. If, by some terrible luck, the glamour failed, the mask would do its job well. Ryleigh had the same one on and I hadn’t been able to tell it was her on the walk over here.
“You’re perfect.” Ryleigh kissed my cheek. “Have fun tonight.”
“I’m here strictly to work.”
“You can do both.”
Before I could say anything else, she pushed the doors open, revealing a candlelit, sensual lounge. It was beautiful, luxurious—utterly enchanting, like a dark fairy tale sprung to life.
Music played from some unseen source, the sound heavy on low tones and notes, the beat thumping in time with my heart. It was much different from the familiar string quartets at parties and balls hosted by nobles. Couples danced to it, swaying their hips, their heads bent close.
Bold hands traveled up along silhouettes, slow and seductively.
In the far corner of the chamber more daring arrangements were set up for couples who wished to feed darker desires in public.
Cages suspended from the ceiling swayed as couples entered them, slamming the doors behind them as they began to engage in wicked games. I watched as one masked lady in a beautiful leather bustier chained her lover’s hands behind his back, commanded him to kneel, then swatted him with a riding crop.
Without any other sort of foreplay, she pulled his hard cock out and ran the leather along the shaft. It was impressive that he was already turned on.
Perhaps he really enjoyed being ordered around. I tensed as she slapped the underside of his erection, the tip glistening with his arousal. Pain must be his preferred vice, and she was more than willing to give him what he wanted.
It was certainly one way to seek thrills.
I scanned the rest of the room, searching for the best place to sit and hopefully talk with Ryleigh until I settled into the atmosphere and read the guests for the best target.
Low tables and velvet couches in various shades of dark blue provided intimate seating arrangements around the perimeter of the room. Silverfrost flowers with their silver-tipped petals spilled from lapis vases, the scent a cool, fragrant floral that soothed and enticed.
Every couch was already occupied, which was a shame. I would have preferred to sit there until I decided who to approach first.
On the far right, a bar carved from a solid piece of lapis gleamed from the little orbs of iridescent Fae lights that were strung from the ceiling.
Bottles of spirits lined the wall behind the bar from top to bottom, sending prisms of color shooting across the shiny bar top as they were taken from the shelves, flipped theatrically, and poured into waiting cut-crystal glasses and tumblers.
The lounge teemed with glamoured guests, their masks similar to mine and Ryleigh’s, though some were made of metal and gleamed menacingly in the light. The music suddenly grew louder, the new beat a primal, faster melody that dared patrons to move in time to it.
Hinges on the metal cages groaned as they swung furiously from side to side, the lovers now completely lost to their passions, uncaring of their audience.
I swallowed thickly, my pulse racing.
A few masked faces turned our way, my nerves igniting in a rush from the onslaught of attention. I was used to blending in, to remaining on the periphery until I’d taken in a whole room. Here I was very much on display. And my exquisitely short dress was only encouraging everyone to look their fill. Instead of being the one who sought out their target, I was very much prey. My mouth went dry.
“Should we get a drink?” I asked.
I couldn’t hear Ryleigh over the music.
I turned, ready to repeat myself, but she was gone. I thought I caught the back of her head disappearing into one of the private rooms off the lounge.
I sighed and faced the bar again, choking back a scream at the masked stranger leaning in, blocking my view. “Want to dance?”
“I—”
He didn’t wait for my response; his arm was suddenly around my waist, tugging me close. I didn’t feel caged, precisely, but I certainly didn’t appreciate his arrogant approach.
He spun me around the dance floor, much too quickly, and I squeezed my eyes shut. His heat, the crowded room itself, the quiet chatter that seemed to turn into a full buzz—everything had my head spinning faster than my wretched dance partner as we moved around and around.
My stomach had already been knotting itself together and I felt my mouth start to slowly fill with saliva. It was all too much too quickly. Glamour or not, if I threw up on the dance floor, I would never see another invitation to this club again.
I pushed back, locking my arms straight out, and he finally stopped spinning us.
“Excuse me,” I mumbled, then rushed to the far end of the room, praying he wouldn’t follow me. Somehow, even in a den of sin, murder would probably be frowned upon. Even if the victim was a miserable beast who didn’t feel the need to seek a consenting dance partner.
Hiding was an undignified term to use, but if one wanted to call slinking into the shadows to gather myself that, then perhaps I might be avoiding the dancer. For his sake, mostly. I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t knee him in the groin if he attempted that again.
After a few moments, my breathing resumed a normal rhythm and my stomach settled. The dancer found a new partner who seemed to enjoy his antics, so I made my way to the bar and ordered a brandy.
While I sipped it, another patron edged his way in beside me. Hope kindled again. Perhaps he might be someone I could glean information about romance from.
When I snuck another glance his way, he flashed a key at me. This one didn’t have runes on it, which meant it probably opened one of the private rooms.
Why he was showing it off to me like a prize pig at a country fair was unclear.
When I didn’t immediately jump up and give a standing ovation to his offering, he moved it closer. As if proximity would spark a greater impression.
My eyes crossed in the height of seduction as he waved it inches from my nose.
“I’ve secured a private room for us.”
I glanced at the other patrons sitting nearby. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else, sir.”
“You’re here. I’m here. In a den of vice, I’d say the only one who seems mistaken about the purpose of this club is you.”
I drew in a deep breath. Romance wouldn’t be his strong suit, then.
“Lust isn’t the only sin to enjoy here.”
He ran his attention down my body. “No, but it’s the most fun. Now then, are you coming or not? I’ve got to meet my intended at the theater in an hour and this cock won’t suck itself in the meantime.”
I seriously reconsidered my decision to attend this den of iniquity for my article.
Surely, even with sin and vice on the menu, manners and flirtation were not obscene requests, along with wanting a lover who wasn’t already spoken for.
“Forgive me, sir. But if your tongue is this bland during a simple conversation, I can only imagine other areas where it would be equally disappointing.”
His mouth dropped open.
I tossed back the rest of my drink, slammed the empty glass on the bar, then headed toward the stairs before my temper got the better of me and I was banished from the club. Which wouldn’t be the worst fate at this point.
Much to my horror, this male wasn’t as easily deterred.
He shouted from a few paces behind me. “Hey! You, there! Stop.”
I didn’t turn back. There was no way in any of the hells I’d be interested in him. I bumped into patrons, excusing myself as I tried to put distance and bodies between us.
“I intend to prove you wrong about my tongue!”
Gods help me. That wasn’t a challenge I wished to take him up on.
Giving up on making another scene, I finally reached the stairs and raced up, my breath coming in short bursts. I needed to breathe in the outside air, feel the coldness on my flushed skin, and escape the idiotic guests who knew nothing of seduction or romance.
After what felt like a year of rushing up endless stairs, I finally came to the end and pushed the door open at what I prayed was the rooftop.
A blast of icy air hit me, and peace immediately settled into my bones. I gulped down a few lungsful of wintry air, my nerves dissipating with each deep inhalation. My sister was far more affected by crowds, but occasionally I fell into that same trap.
I waited, body tensed as I kept my back pressed to the door, but after a few moments, no one else emerged onto the roof.
I exhaled, thankful I’d successfully dodged two uncomfortable situations.
I pushed the unpleasant experiences away and soaked in every detail of the roof.
I’d left a nightmare only to walk directly into a dream.
The rooftop garden was exquisite, bursting with a sea of vivid wintry colors. My attention swept across the space, my heart fluttering for an entirely new reason.
Flowers in various shades of blue, from cobalt to navy and periwinkle, and even complementing shades of white and silver, glowed under the moonlight.
Near the far end was a tall, gnarled frostberry tree.
I loved the tiny ice-coated pale blue berries that sparkled, so I aimed for it, wanting the comfort of its night blossoms and strong trunk to lean against.
I stopped before it, quietly cursing myself for letting two idiots run me off. It was getting late, and I was still no closer to writing my first Miss Match column. Whether I wanted to or not, I needed to go back downstairs and start asking questions.
“First time?” a deep voice said from the shadows.
I whirled, my heart hammering against my chest as I squinted into the darkness, eventually making out the lone figure across the way.
Based on what Ryleigh had said about the rooftop, I hadn’t expected anyone to be up here, and he’d been so still my attention initially skipped right over him.
Now that I saw him, I couldn’t understand how I’d missed him.
He leaned against the wall of a water tower, his masked face tipped up to the sky, an empty highball glass dangling from his fingertips, glinting in the moonlight.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
“Mm.”
I waited for another moment, but he said nothing else. This stranger clearly didn’t want company, and I knew all too well what that was like, so I made to leave, when he spoke again.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
I paused, glancing back. He was a cheeky one. “Why are you alone on the roof?”
“I’m not.”
Insufferable male. Of course he wasn’t currently alone. “If this is how you behave with company, then I understand why you’re up here, sulking by yourself.”
A soft chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, not at all an unpleasant sound.
I waited for him to show off a key, to demand I engage in sin or force me to dance. He did nothing of the sort. He kept his attention fixed to the sky, happy to indulge in light conversation, no demands or expectations. Just pleasant small talk. He might be perfect…
I hesitated for only a moment before I moved closer, studying him in the darkness.
Surely he must have some flaw. Claw-tipped fingers. Crude breath. Little devil horns sprouting from his ass.
He was tall, well toned but not bulky, broad shouldered, and even without seeing his face, I sensed he had no trouble in the romance department.
I wondered what he really looked and sounded like without the glamour. Perhaps he was two inches tall and was related to hobgoblins and trolls. Though I somehow doubted that. I’d wager my entire paycheck that he was no stranger to receiving an abundance of attention.
It was in the way he held himself—sure and confident, like the world would bend to his will, seeking his attention, even knowing it would be fleeting.
Stubble lightly dusted his cut jawline, making him appealingly rugged instead of unkempt. He was a feast for the senses and knew it, given the curve of that wicked mouth as he no doubt sensed my open perusal of him.
If anyone could simply hold a key up and expect lovers to fall all over the opportunity to follow him into the deepest, darkest corners of hell, he would be the one to get away with it.
Yet he didn’t use that to his advantage.
His hair was dark, but whether it was light brown or black I couldn’t tell. And it didn’t matter. He might be handsome, but he was not nearly as enticing as completing my first Miss Match column and collecting my check.
I took him in again, this time with the intention of engaging his mind enough to distract him from his thoughts. Tonight wasn’t a loss for me just yet. Here stood my salvation.
“Have you ever been in love?”
He snorted, finally dropping his focus away from the sky and whatever had been holding his attention. I couldn’t see his eyes but felt the heat of his gaze move along my costume.
Something about his aura shifted along with his posture, his attention suddenly feeling dangerous in the most intriguing way. Like standing too close to a seaside cliff as the wind whipped at your limbs, dragging you perilously closer to the edge.
Or maybe it was how a mouse felt when a hawk noticed it and realized it was famished.
I wasn’t naive enough to think myself the hawk, especially as a charge built in the space between us. But I was daring enough to hold my ground, curious to see what happened next.
Which was completely unlike me. Work, I quietly scolded myself. I was here for work only. He didn’t seem to notice my silent battle, thank the old gods for small mercies.
“That’s quite the loaded question for a pleasure club, Lady Frost.”
A clever nickname, considering my costume. I hid my fascination, curious to see how he reacted to my next move.
“Not really. You looked like you were contemplating something vast. Love, loss; those are typically the biggest culprits of intense longing. It was either that or you’re constipated.”
He tossed his head back and laughed, the tension between us breaking with the rich, pleasant sound. My heart gave a little flip. I’d scowl at it for being foolish if I could.
“Your wooing skills are horrendous.”
“That’s because I’m not trying to make you fall in love with me. I simply need advice on how to move on from my last heartbreak.”
“And you thought coming to this club was the best place to discover that?”
His tone was highly amused. Rightly so. I’d wanted to surprise him, hopefully sparking enough interest to answer my questions.
Ryleigh would certainly be impressed with my attempt. I could flirt when pressed to. Or maybe I simply liked flirting with this stranger who had a deep, alluring laugh.
One I had no business being fascinated by. Trolls and hobgoblins, I reminded myself. I was enticed because of the glamour and nothing more.
I lifted a shoulder and dropped it, aiming for casual.
“Why not? I imagine lots of patrons are running away from something. Hence the masks and secrecy.”
“Or perhaps they simply crave a night of sin-fueled adventure.”
“They could do that in any one of the brothels, taverns, or pubs in this district.”
“Not really. Here they can truly let go, indulge in anything they wish without anyone in their daily life knowing. This club is escapism at its finest.”
“You’re here to escape?”
“Aren’t you?”
I leaned against the wall beside him, considering.
Maybe it was that simple and I’d been overanalyzing it. Maybe this club was also popular because it indulged in a bit of adventure and danger too.
The fear of being caught, discovered, was also an aphrodisiac of sorts.
Not all the patrons might be craving distraction, but some probably were. And of those few, perhaps that was how they were coping with heartbreak.
Could engaging in a bit of harmless fun until the heartache passed be the best advice?
My mind spun with the revelation. That might be the perfect opening advice for my Miss Match column. I didn’t have to be an expert on romantic partnerships. I simply needed to figure out how to assist with emotions on a broader scale.
Losing someone was something I could relate to. When my father died, aside from missing his presence, the routine of our daily life being disrupted was the next hardest aspect to overcome. I’d had to work extra hard to set tasks for me and my sister to fill the void.
Otherwise, the hard days grew unbearable.
Doing something to break the routine might help someone through loss, not simply romantic loss either.
My masked companion mistook my quiet contemplation for something it wasn’t.
“Perhaps you should visit Lust Lounge. I’m sure there are many patrons who would be happy to help you get over your heartbreak, Lady F.”
“That might be true, but I highly doubt they could help me with love.”
“Ah. I understand now.”
“What?” I asked, noting the teasing edge in his tone.
I couldn’t recall the last time someone was so playful with me. It was disorienting.
And… fun.
As if sensing my unexpected delight at our interaction and knowing it would both drive me crazy and hook me deeper, he plotted his next move in the most torturously slow way.
He leaned in, bringing his mouth tantalizingly close to my ear. His breath tickled the stray tendrils of my hair, the sensation intoxicatingly sensual for such an innocent act.
He paused just long enough for my pulse to speed in anticipation, a hunter well-versed in taking down prey. I knew from an article I’d researched that fight-or-flight responses physically aroused, often causing attraction; he not only appeared to know that, but also deftly utilized the skill.
Heat pooled low in my belly the same moment goose bumps rose along my flesh. I was startled to realize how badly I wanted to kiss him.
“You’re cynical, Lady Frost.”
I laughed softly.
“Isn’t it odd how whenever someone has one iota of common sense, they’re called cynical? Lust and love are wildly different.”
“Spoken like a true pessimist.”
“Perhaps that would be true if two patrons didn’t just accost me downstairs. I assure you, it wasn’t love that fueled them to pursue me.”
He froze. “You were harmed?”
“Not at all.” I waved off his concern. But when he didn’t seem content to let it go, I added, “It really was nothing. Just two males who didn’t have decent manners. That’s all. I’d rather not think about them now.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I would hate to leave you alone on the roof, but eviscerating anyone breaking the club rules would be a worthy task. How do you feel about blood?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “How utterly romantic. It’s no wonder you’re here and not happily at home with a wife.”
The tension finally broke as he smiled.
“If you’re fishing for information, I’d expect you to ask directly.”
He was near enough now that the heat of his body warmed me. And I rather liked it. I swayed a little closer, seeking more of his warmth.
“But no, I don’t have a wife waiting at home for me. Though sharing a bed sounds nice.”
Against my better judgment, a smile curved my lips. I enjoyed a good battle of wits, and he was a worthy opponent tonight. It had been years since I’d spoken with someone who gave as good as they were getting.
We were in a pleasure club, making his agenda clear—he probably wanted me in his bed tonight—but the pursuit was a pleasant diversion, one I admired. He was learning what I liked, leaning into it, giving me just enough of a taste to crave more.
It was a delightful mental seduction. One I couldn’t ignore if I tried.
He wasn’t at all like the brutish male who’d stolen a dance earlier and hadn’t cared one whit about my wants. Nor was he like the male who’d demanded I go to a private chamber with him. This stranger seemed to get pleasure from enticing me. He wanted me to choose him.
He was a wicked flirt.
“What are you escaping from?” I asked.
“At the moment, I’m not running from anything, Lady F. Unless you want me to leave.”
There was no mistaking the desire in his tone for anything else.
My pulse ticked faster. I had what I’d come here for—a solid direction for my column. I could go home, grab my quill and inkpot, and draft my article. Then I could crawl into my cold bed alone, shivering and wondering what if. What if I stayed, what if I flirted a bit more, what if I kissed him like he was the last being alive and had some real fun for once?
The responsible thing to do was to leave now.
Or I could stay for a little while longer, indulge in a distraction.
Normally, the decision wasn’t hard at all. I’d leave the first moment I had what I needed for an article. My stranger didn’t push, didn’t attempt to talk me into staying. He simply waited for my choice. And that was the most attractive quality of all.
By now my sister and stepmother were tucked into bed, sleeping soundly, and I could spare an extra hour or so here without fear of missing my deadline.
His company was pleasant. The emotions he stirred in me even more so.
The firewood needed to be replenished tomorrow after I got paid, so I knew my room would be even colder than usual tonight.
There were a hundred reasons I could come up with for choosing to stay. The truth was, I didn’t need to create any excuse other than wanting to be here, now. Enjoying the moment.
I had so few moments like this in my life: carefree, fun, easy.
Temptation grew.
I glanced sideways at the masked stranger; he was much larger compared to me than I’d originally thought. He seemed like the sort of male who knew how to throw his weight around in the bedroom, taking charge while also being considerate.
A polite alpha. Dominant but sensitive. A male who took control, who owned. But only behind closed doors. The ultimate dream, I thought wryly.
“Your smile is devastating,” he said, tracing my lower lip with his thumb.
A spark of heat ignited at the simple caress. His touch hadn’t been tentative or shy; he’d been watching me, gauging my interest. Then he’d acted.
Again, unlike the man from the dance floor, who’d just taken what he wanted.
This stranger didn’t give standard compliments, which I appreciated. It meant when he offered one it had been earned through his careful insight. I wasn’t sure how I knew that with certainty, but I did.
I also liked the mystery aspect of it all, the thrill of the hunt, the tension of the cat-and-mouse game enticing me enough to play.
He’d made the first, subtle move. Testing to see if I’d welcome his advances.
He was bold enough to make his intentions clear but wouldn’t push further.
Another trait I found attractive. It made me want to throw my responsible nature aside for one night and do wicked, dirty things with him.
“What will you do about it?” I asked, baiting him.
“Are you issuing a challenge, Lady F?”
“If I am?”
“I am not one to lose.”
He moved until he stood in front of me now, one arm pressed against the wall at my side, the other gently cupping my face. His legs brushed against mine, sending a thrill of anticipation shooting through me from each point of contact.
We were in a pleasure club. And the time for talking was through.
In direct contrast to my ice queen costume, I wanted passion and fire, a night to indulge in fantasy, forgetting the harshness of reality for a while.
This stranger was perfect. He’d take down his prey, then move on to the next, seeking adventure and thrills in the chase. No messy emotions, no true names. No regrets.
“Neither am I.”
Feeling bold enough to go after what I wanted, I gripped his shirt in my fist and dragged him to me, earning a surprised huff before his mouth crashed into mine, the kiss a punishing, delightful claiming that set my blood aflame.
My stranger was exactly the sort of male I’d hoped he was.
My lips parted on a contented sigh and his tongue swept in, expertly caressing mine.
He groaned into my mouth, ravishing me as he pressed me harder up against the wall, my short skirt riding higher.
I cupped his face, his stubble-roughened cheeks driving me wild.
It had been far too long since I’d felt desired. And there was no doubt that this stranger wanted me madly. He drew back for a moment, his forehead pressed to mine as he panted.
I couldn’t tell for certain because of the glamour, but I’d swear he seemed utterly shocked by his response. I had no time to think about it; in the next breath, his lips were on mine, and I was once again lost to him.
He hoisted one of my legs up around his hip, the refined move meant to please and tease. I couldn’t tell who it affected more. The new position had his hard length pressed against my core, sending sparks of sensation through me with each delicious thrust.
I wasn’t sure he was consciously moving his hips; it seemed as if he’d surrendered to the demand of our bodies. And I was all too pleased.
This kiss… I’d never felt something so passionate before, so untamed.
I melted into it, giving myself over entirely to the sensation, the seduction.
My lips were swollen, bruised things that craved more delightful punishment from his. And he was all too willing to oblige. He gently bit down on my lower lip, smiling against my mouth as a bolt of heat went through me and I clawed him closer.
He was immensely talented with his mouth; I’d need to write an ode to it one day.
His hand splayed against my thigh, pinning me in place, his command over my body already a wonderful prelude to a night I wouldn’t soon forget.
He tore his mouth from mine, kissing up the side of my neck, taking the lobe of my ear between his teeth next.
“Unless you tell me to stop, I’m going to worship your body, my lady.”
It was already his to do as he pleased with from the kiss alone.
And he damned well knew it.
“Saints curse me. If you stop, I’ll kill you.” I breathed as his mouth moved along the column of my throat, both devouring and savoring me at once. Goose bumps rose where his stubble passed over my soft skin, and I yearned to feel more of it in other sensitive areas.
His clever fingers dipped between the chains holding the side of my gown together, his bare skin on mine sending another heady rush through my veins.
“I’m no highborn lady, though.”
“Perhaps not in title. But tonight, you’re mine. ”
He moved his hips again, this time with knowing purpose, hitting a spot that would certainly send me over the edge if he kept that motion up, proving his statement correct as he swallowed my moan with his next kiss.
Gods, I wanted him. But a sudden realization struck, sending reality crashing down on me like an upturned bucket of ice water. This wouldn’t be a hard-and-fast evening like I’d originally thought; this male would take his time, wringing pleasure from me for hours.
And while that seemed like the most wonderful nighttime adventure I could imagine, I couldn’t risk missing my deadline. No matter how tempting he was.
I broke away from our kiss, breathing hard, my body already protesting the absence of his as he leaned back just enough to search my face.
Whatever he saw, even with my mask on, was enough for him to know our night was done. My stranger slowly set my leg down, smoothing my skirt and bodice with his large hand before adjusting his trousers.
“I—” I froze at movement behind him.
We hadn’t been alone.
“By all means,” the new stranger drawled. “Don’t stop on my account. Things were getting good.”
My companion stiffened, then glanced over his shoulder, cursing. “You were supposed to send a note when you were done. Give us a bloody minute.”
The other male laughed softly but retreated down the stairs.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his tone gentling. “If I misunderstood…”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “You didn’t misread anything. It’s just… complicated tonight. Poor timing.”
“Indeed.” He leaned in, lightly kissing my cheek. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”
I nodded but said nothing. What else was there to say? Our little tryst was over before it could really begin. And it was for the best. I had to leave now too, and tomorrow wasn’t a possibility because entry to the club wasn’t guaranteed again.
“I apologize for my companion.” He motioned toward the spot where the other male had been. I would swear he was stalling, unwilling to part just yet. “He was raised by wolves.”
A small smile played across my lips. I’d never been caught in the act before, but there was a slight, dark thrill about being watched that didn’t exactly make me feel scandalized.
The masked stranger took a step back. And part of me regretted breaking our kiss early. It felt like I’d lost something special before I’d realized its value.
“I’m sorry, Lady F. I must go.”
He hesitated, then came forward again, pressing something cold into my palm.
I glanced down at a key in the shape of a seven, my pulse fluttering madly.
“Come back tomorrow at midnight,” he said. “I’ll be waiting for you here. Just to talk, if that’s all you desire. And if you’d prefer to just escape and find someone else, that’s fine too.”
My fingers closed around the key, my attention locked on it.
What he’d just offered…
I went to thank him, but when I looked up, my stranger was already gone.
Dear Miss Match,
How do I get over my latest heartbreak?
Sincerely yours,
Stuck in Love
Dear Stuck,
If the object of your affection broke your heart, break your routine. (Much less messy than breaking their limbs and going through the hassle of court hearings and facing the gallows.)
Jesting aside, Miss Match’s advice is to do one thing each day that brings you joy. Whether it’s admiring the sunrise or sunset, gazing up at the stars, going for a walk in nature, or taking a moment to be kind to someone else.
Court yourself. The right person will eventually come along and see what a diamond you truly are.
Yours,
Miss Match