14. I Should Be Intimidated
I SHOULD BE INTIMIDATED
Fable
Something is terribly wrong with me. I must be out of my mind. I don’t ever do stuff like this. But then, I’ve never been in this situation. No one has ever talked to me this way, and even though I can’t see this man’s eyes behind his wolf mask, I feel them tracing every inch of my body.
His pants bulged at the crotch when he was standing there talking to me, the size impossible to ignore.
That has never happened to me. I’m not around men enough for this to happen.
Flirting isn’t a part of my life, which must be why I’m acting this way.
The two guys I slept with got into my pants easily enough because I was longing for intimacy and curious, like I am now.
Apparently, this weakness makes me easy.
But what does it matter here? This place is about sex—great sex, according to Noah.
This Lord wants to fuck me, as he said. Damn if that wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard—because it was from him.
A mysterious, incredibly tall man with a sexy accent, a body of strength, and a presence of power.
I should be intimidated. In a way, I am, but only from fear of losing a permanent job here.
That’s a factor too. I’m out of options and need this in a way I’ve never needed anything before.
But that’s not why I’m standing between his legs.
Even with his demanding, authoritative behavior, I don’t sense a real threat.
It’s true what he said about learning to sense danger when you’re raised in an abusive household.
Whether he spoke from experience or general knowledge, I can’t say, but I’m certain this man won’t hurt me.
I feel it in my gut, and I trust my gut.
I learned to a long time ago. One thing concerns me though.
“Could this get me fired?” I ask, trying my best to hide my insecurities. I hate this about myself. Ripping off the Band-Aide, I swallow my nerves and force out the rest as I stare directly at the mesh concealing his eyes. “If you don’t like it or what occurs between us, could I lose my job?”
He lets out a deep chuckle, the sound settling low in my belly as he tugs me closer.
“It’s a shame how utterly clueless you are about men or your effect on them.
Whoever did that to you deserves a beating.
But so we’re clear on this, little angel, there is absolutely nothing you could do to turn me off or get yourself fired, except for being with another man here.
That I won’t tolerate. While there are those here who like to share, and even prefer it, I do not.
I will not. Your consent is for me alone. Do you understand?”
My heart races. Never has anyone talked to me like this or treated me like I’m special—chosen.
It affects every part of my mind and body.
The reasons might not be healthy, brought on from neglect and loss, but I don’t want to resist. This is a place where you can be anyone.
My mask is off, which isn’t how I imagined a sexual encounter here, because I have imagined it.
I’ve been doing it for most of the night, gearing up for tomorrow, and to wear a red feather.
I want my time here to be immersive. Because, as much as I need this job to work, I also know how quickly life has a way of taking things from me.
The odds of my father finding me here seem near impossible, and even less likely that he or someone working for him could kill me behind two gates, a fortress wall of protection, and a team of security.
Still, I know nothing is foolproof. Things can go wrong.
Life can change for the worse in an instant.
This moment, for however long it lasts, is mine to take, and I want to.
I want to feel desire and be touched. I miss human contact and haven’t had it in so long—not that I ever had much.
There are no delusions here. This is about pleasure—hopefully—and the rare chance for me to experience it.
“You don’t have to overthink this. You don’t have to think at all.
Just feel,” he says, drawing me from my thoughts.
“Being disguised helps relax a person. With your mask gone, you don’t have that, but I can present a solution to help.
” He removes a red sash from his pocket and lifts it toward my face, his intentions clear. “Will you trust me?”
Gulp. If I say yes, this begins now. Am I ready? What happens if I say no? Will he lose interest and find someone else? Probably.
“You’re thinking, angel. If you say yes, I promise you will not be disappointed. You can always press that little button on your wrist if you want to stop,” he reminds me.
“Yes,” I say, my heart walloping my ribs. Holy shit. I’m doing this.
“Good, little angel,” he purrs, his smoky voice filled with sin and promises.
I hold still as he ties the sash around my eyes, then rests his big hands back on my hips. With him sitting like this, I’m taller by a few inches.
He’s quiet for long moments, not moving, only breathing. My senses heighten, and anticipation surges through me in a frightening way.
“Everything is different when you can’t see. Your body gets to be free to release what it feels and what it needs. Let go and enjoy it.”
I want to. More than he could know.
I hear him doing something. “I’m going to touch your face.”
I tense a little.
His fingers brush my chin, then his big thumb runs across my bottom lip. “Now, I’m going to kiss you.”
I hold my breath.
He cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him. His mouth barely touches mine, then he licks the curve of my lower lip. The air leaves my lungs in a shudder.
He chuckles quietly, the low rumble landing in my core.
This time, when his lips touch mine, they’re soft, firm, and consuming.
He licks the seam of my mouth, and I open, letting in his hot tongue.
He tastes delicious, a smoky flavor of rich alcohol that’s sweet with a hint of spice.
Something about it reminds me of Dr. Pepper, as ridiculous as that sounds.
I roll my tongue with his, indulging in the flavor.
Has a kiss ever been this good? Not that I can remember.
With one hand still at the back of my neck, he slides the other to my back and draws me so close, I’m pressed against his muscular chest. Good god, this man is big, his spice and orange cologne turning me on more, the scent familiar in a way I can’t explain. My nipples harden.
Wetness pools between my legs as the kiss intensifies. I wrap my arms around his neck and am about to straddle his lap when something brushes my ankle.
“Meow,” Bear cries. I ignore him, continuing with the best kiss of my life.
“Meow.” This one is long and a bit louder, not that Bear knows how to be loud. His head nudges my ankle again, and I can’t help but giggle.
I try to pull away.
“Don’t even think about it.” The Lord squeezes my waist and lifts me onto his lap so I’m straddling his big hard cock. Oh my, that feels good. I moan, and he thrusts his tongue back into my open mouth.
I hug his neck as he uses his hands still on my waist to rub my core up and down his length. My panties are embarrassingly wet. So much so, I say it out of shock. “I’m soaked.” So soaked.
“Bloody hell,” he groans and holds me as he stands.
I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks to the bed, I assume.
My back presses against something hard. The wall?
He takes my hands and secures them above my head.
His fingers dig into my thigh as he grinds against my drenched core.
I moan loudly, lost in the sensations and the need spiraling inside me like a lust-fueled tornado.
Each time he hits my clit, I quiver and pray an orgasm is on its way. My first. Please let me have one.
“I need to come,” I whimper. “Can you make me? Please make me.”
His breathing isn’t as labored as mine, but it isn’t normal either. The fierceness of his thrusts lets me know he’s as into this as I am. He shoves his hand down my tights from behind, his fingers sliding across my other hole before finding the spot where I need him the most.
He hisses when he feels me. “My sopping wet, angel. Do you want me to fill this?” He teases my folds and my clit.
I buck and shout, “Yes. Please yes!” Never in my life have I acted this way. Never in my life have I felt this intensity when making out. I may be embarrassed later, but I can’t bring myself to care now.
“Such a vixen,” he says approvingly and thrusts his thick finger inside me.
I feel myself squeezing him greedily. He pumps twice, and I come, moaning and panting like I’m being murdered. The orgasm is potent and longer than I expected. I ride it out, not daring to let his finger go.
A knock sounds on the bedroom door.
I’m almost too weak to care. I don’t want to care. I want to do this again, but with his dick inside me. I’d stay here all night letting him do whatever if he can make me orgasm like that again.
More knocking.
“Sorry, angel,” he murmurs. “I need to put you down.” Slowly, he lowers me against the wall until my feet touch the ground. I don’t trust my legs right now. “Don’t take off the blindfold,” he whispers and kisses below my ear.
I nod and lean against the wall, still working to catch my breath. Was I too loud? Did I get myself into trouble?
I hear him move about, then come back to me. In my ear, he whispers, “I’m taking off your blindfold. Act natural when I open the door. Like nothing happened. Understand?”
I nod, a bit offended. Am I to be his secret? Is that how it works?
Knocking sounds again, harder.
Bear strolls toward me. I scoop him up and hold him while I watch the man in the wolf mask open the door. It dawns on me that his mask was off when we were making out because I didn’t feel it when I touched and kissed him.
He doesn’t say anything, just tucks his hands in his pants pockets as he stares at whoever is on the other side. I can’t see who from where I stand behind it. He also looks impeccable, as if we weren’t all over each other a moment ago.
“Sorry,” Noah says, her voice tight with nerves. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m looking for Fable. Camila sent me.”
He nods and pushes the door open until it meets the wall, revealing me.
Her head turns my way, her mask covering her face, but not her mouth or how it forms an O. Either something is out of place on me—my skirt is tucked into my tights—or she’s surprised to see me holding Bear.
“Excuse me, ladies.” The Lord leaves the room without sparing me a glance.
Such an odd man, but such an incredible lover.