As I step into the crowded hall, my breath catches in my throat.
This is…this is nothing like any of the other fundraisers I have attended over the last six months. And ever since I began interning at Councilor Stern’s office—a great supplement to my final year of studies as a political science major—I’ve attended plenty of these things. It’s one of the most important parts of the game, keeping money coming in, keeping people engaged with the message, keeping them passionate about everything we’re doing.
But those other events…
They were formal, staid…normal. Tonight, the hall—which used to be a cathedral before it was turned into one of the most famous and exclusive venues in the city—is packed with people hiding behind masks, wearing daring outfits, their faces obscured, their eyes dark in the dim light. The low buzz of conversation fills the air, but I can’t make out exactly what anyone is saying, as though they want to make certain that they keep all of their secrets to themselves.
I take a deep breath and steady my peacock-feather mask on my face. When I told one of the other interns, Cara, about my outfit for the evening, she rolled her eyes at me and laughed.
“Peacock feathers are bad luck,” she said, digging an elbow into my side.
“Maybe in journalism,” I countered, a reference to her own major. “But in politics, they’re all good news.”
And that’s what I’m trying to remind myself right now, as I stand here in this room, feeling as though the eyes of everyone in the entire place are on me. When Councilor Stern told me about this event, he mentioned that it might be a little different to what I’m used to—but he promised me it would be a good time, a chance to meet with some of the most rich and powerful people in this city.
“Like who?” I had asked him, with great interest. I know the only way I’m going to get ahead in this business is by making connections, and every chance I get to pounce on a new one, I will take it. But he just grinned, shaking his head.
“Why do you think they wear the masks? They don’t want people to know who they are. Not tonight, anyway.”
And that was all the warning I got for what I’m walking into right now. I scan around, searching for Cara—she said she was going to be here tonight, but she’s chronically late in almost everything she does, so it shouldn’t surprise me that she’s already flaked. And besides, I’m not even sure I could pick her out in this crowd…
I move toward the bar, thanking God that at least I’m old enough to drink now—it might not make me entirely comfortable, but it’s a small mercy to help take the edge off. I wonder briefly if I’ll get asked for identification, but my boss’s words echo in my ears. Nobody wants to be known here. Because what happens here…
It isn’t part of the face they present to the rest of the world.
I order a glass of champagne, figuring something celebratory is the best thing for an occasion like this, and sip on it slowly while I lean on the bar. I’m not sure if I want someone to talk to me or not. Besides the feather mask, I’m wearing a matching emerald-green dress that’s a little more daring than what I might normally go for in the workplace, but it feels almost conservative given what everyone else around me is wearing…
There are women with slits so high it looks like one wrong move might expose it all—or with necklines so low that all it would take is a toss of their hair to slip loose. The men are immaculately dressed too, the suits fitted, the scents of their expensive aftershaves mingling in the air around me. A few pass by and catch my eye, and I swiftly look away, not wanting to invite a conversation that I know I won’t be able to handle.
But then, much to my shock, a voice sounds from beside me—low and amused, as though he’s clocked on to my game already.
“You can’t hide out here by the bar all night, you know.”
I glance around to find a man looking back at me. He’s wearing almost a full-face mask, apart from a curve that takes a chunk out of the white ceramic over his eye and cheekbone. His eyes flash with something I can’t quite read, sending a shiver down my spine. They’re the most piercing shade of gray, but it’s not just the color that has thrown me for a loop—no, it’s the way he’s staring at me, as though he longs to take a bite out of me right then and there.
“I’m not hiding out,” I shoot back. “I’m waiting for a friend.”
“Oh, right,” he replies, demonstratively looking around the room. “And where’s this friend now?”
I press my lips together. “I don’t know,” I admit, and I can see his eyebrow cock slightly out of the corner of my eye.
“You really came here to meet someone?” He chuckles. “What is this, your first time?”
“It is, as a matter of fact,” I reply. “I’m here because I work for—”
He lifts a finger to silence me. Normally, I wouldn’t let some random man tell me what to do, but there’s something about the movement of his hand that makes it impossible for me to think straight. My lips part, half in shock, half in protest, but I stay quiet.
“I don’t want to know who you work for,” he replies. “And neither does anyone else here. They want to blow off some steam. Leave the real world behind for a while. And I suggest you do the same.”
He looks behind me to where the bartender is standing.
“Two more of whatever she’s having.”
And with that, he settles next to me once more, gazing out over the crowd with an impassive expression that I can’t help but stare at.
I don’t know what’s going on here. I’ve never had a man speak to me the way this one just did. Never. And, in any normal situation, I would have snapped back just for quieting me with a gesture. But the air in this place feels different—no, I feel different. And maybe there is a part of me that wants to see where the rest of this night can go, if I just sit back and let it happen.
“So I guess this isn’t your first time, then?” I ask, as I lift the glass of champagne to my lips and take another sip. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the presence of the man beside me, but I suddenly find that I’m not searching the crowd for Cara with quite as much keenness as I was before.
“Of course not,” he replies, as though it should be obvious. “I know this place well. It’s infamous, actually.”
My eyes widen slightly behind my mask, and I turn to him. “For what? What’s it infamous for…?”
He chuckles again—a low, warm sound that seems to reverberate all the way through his body to light up his face. “Oh, you really don’t know,” he remarks.
I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Is it drugs?” I wonder with concern.
I figure that, at a place as exclusive as this, there has to be a reason why they’re so cautious about the people they let in. Maybe they want to make certain there are no cops sniffing around.
He shrugs. “Sometimes. But I think it’s more the sex than anything else.”
He lays out that word, sex, with a lazy tone, wrapping his mouth around it as though savoring it for a second before he lets it go. A cold shiver rushes down my spine, and I feel a heat beginning to warm my lower belly.
“Sex?” I whisper back to him, feeling stupid. I glance around once more, and now that he’s said it, the pieces are starting to fall into place—the way the women are dressed, the way the men are touching them, the way the conversation is so low and intimate. These people came here because they want to give in to whatever carnal desires the rest of their lives inhibit them from.
“Mhm,” he replies, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a sip. I can’t help but let my eyes linger on the way his lips skim over the top of the glass, my head spinning for a moment as I take in the sight of it.
“You’ll see couples sneaking off all night,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low, pushing up the sleeves of his light-blue shirt. It hugs his body beautifully—not that I’m paying attention to anything like that, of course, because I’m not here to pick up some guy.
“Sneaking off where?” I wonder aloud. I don’t know why I’m even entertaining this conversation with him right now. For all I know, he could be laughing at me behind his hand for being naive enough to trust that he’s telling the truth. He could be winding me up because it’s so obvious that I’m new here, and I don’t stand a chance of winning this battle.
“Oh, you want to see?” he asks, and his voice is suddenly laced with devious intention. His eyes are locked onto mine, taking in my reaction, and I swallow hard as I try to contend with what he just said.
“With you?” I reply.
“I don’t see how else you’re going to find them,” he teases. “Given that you don’t know anything about this place.”
I stare back at him for a long moment, and then cross my arms over my chest. “I think you’re fucking with me.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Oh, yeah?”
He takes a step toward me—I can smell his aftershave, a deep, amber cologne that wafts off his neck as he moves in to close the distance between us.
“Well, how about we make a deal,” he offers. “I can take you down there, to where these rooms are. And if it’s nothing, if I’m trying to make an ass of you, then I’ll buy your drinks for the rest of the night. Deal?”
He extends his hand to me. I eye it for a long moment, not certain I believe this game that he’s playing. If I’ve learned one thing in politics, it’s that if a deal seems too good to be true, then it likely is.
“And what happens if the rooms are real?” I counter.
He cocks his head to the side. “You just said you don’t believe me. If you really think that, why does it matter what would happen if they’re real?”
“Because I don’t trust you,” I reply, taking another sip of my champagne. Even though I guess we’re technically arguing right now, I can’t help but feel a fizz of excitement as our conversation heats up. There’s something so…something so intense about feeling his eyes on me as he tries to barter with me, when I know there’s something on the line I might not want to give up.
“You want to know exactly what you’re agreeing to?” he asks, and I nod again.
He grins, that smile licking so far up his face that it almost splits it in two.
“If the rooms are real,” he tells me, flicking his tongue out over his bottom lip for emphasis, “then I get to fuck you in there.”
My jaw drops—I can’t hide my shock. Nobody has ever spoken to me like this before in my life. Okay, sure, it’s not as though I have a lot in the way of romantic experience, but I’ve had a few boyfriends, and none of them would ever have dared to say something so lewd to me. And this guy is a stranger! Someone I’ve never met before, someone who has done nothing but tease me since he walked up to me. I should turn on my heel and leave right now, find Cara and tell her we need to get out of this place, because it’s nothing like anything we’ve experienced before…
But before I can think twice, I find my hand slipping into his, and we shake on it.
“Deal.”
I hear myself say it, but I’m only distantly aware that the word is coming from my mouth. Because I would never agree to something like that. I would never even entertain it.
If this man is telling the truth…if this man is speaking honestly, then he is going to take me out of this party, to some private room, and…
I feel a tingle between my legs and I grab the champagne, tossing it back in the hopes of hiding my slightly pink cheeks.
He offers me his arm. It strikes me that he already knows what’s going to happen next, and that he’s happy with either outcome—but I get the feeling he’s banking on the one he wants.
As we move away from the bar, he leads me through the hall and the crowds of masked people to a corridor that leads away from the main central area. I hesitate for a moment, standing in the doorway, not sure if I can really go through with this.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, casting a look over his shoulder. “Cold feet?”
“No, it’s just…”
“You’re not sure about walking into a room with a man you don’t know?” he finishes up for me. I nod. “Smart girl.” But then, before I can say another word, he covers my hand with his and pulls me behind him.
For a moment, the corridor is just darkness, stretching out in front of me. I can hardly see a few inches in front of my face, only able to focus on the sound of his footsteps as he cuts through the quiet. But then, slowly, a few lights begin to shroud the sides of the corridor, casting a deep, golden glow over the red carpet and the dark wood paneling around us.
And then, I hear it.
For a moment, I think I must be imagining it, but there’s no way my mind could make up something so vivid. I can hear moans, groans, orgasmic whimpers, and the sound of bodies coming together over and over again. Just past him, I can see a row of doors, the source of the noise.
“Two people to a room, at least,” he remarks as he continues to stroll up the corridor.
“At least?” I whisper, not sure if I can believe him.
But there’s no denying it—this is exactly what these people came here for…
Which means I have to keep up my end of the bargain.
He comes to a halt outside one of the doors, the only one left that doesn’t seem to have noises coming from behind it. He pushes it open, and gestures for me to step inside.
I inhale deeply. My heart is thudding in my chest, my eyes darting back and forth behind my mask, and I don’t know what in the name of holy fuck I’m meant to do here. Part of me wants to run, of course it does. I’ve never done anything like this before in my life—put my ass on the line only to lose to this handsome stranger. But then…
If this is the kind of place where you can just give in to those darker desires, perhaps that’s what I should do. I mean, everyone else seems to be, and I’d look out of place if I didn’t. I need to do this to fit in with the people who will one day be my peers. I don’t want them to think that I have some grand secret over their heads that I’m just waiting to spill. No, if I want to be a part of this, then I have to get down and dirty.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself as I finally set foot over the threshold and follow him inside.
The room is small—not much room for anything more than the large double bed, cloaked in red sheets to match the wallpaper. A couple of low lamps light the corners of the room, and the shadows that they cast over what little I can see of his face makes him look almost frightening.
But then, he steps toward me, sliding his hands to my waist. His grip is firm, almost commanding. I don’t know what to say, how to react, but I know that I can’t fight back.
That I don’t want to.
“I think you owe me your end of the agreement,” he murmurs to me. And though I can barely see his expression, I can tell that he’s asking me if I’ll see it through—challenging me, almost. And I am not going to fall, not at this hurdle, not at any.
“I think I do,” I breathe back. And with that, something darkens in his eyes, and he grabs me and throws me down onto the bed, leaving me facing away from him on all fours.
“I knew I was going to fuck you the second I laid eyes on you,” he murmurs, shoving up the skirt of my dress and sliding his hands to my panties. My head is spinning so much I can’t get out a reply, but his words send a shock of excitement through my system. The thought of this man watching me, taking me in like I’m some kind of prey, is arousing in ways I didn’t even think possible.
He yanks my panties down and tosses them aside, pulling my hips up roughly to meet his. I can feel the hardness of his erection already pressing against me through his pants, and—fuck, he’s big. I can tell already, and I haven’t even felt him inside of me. I draw in a deep, shaky breath, and he slides his hand down to my face, cupping my chin in his fingers so he can push my gaze around to his.
“Don’t worry, princess,” he soothes me as he brushes strands of my auburn hair back from my face. “You can be anything you want here. And I get the feeling…”
He reaches back, brushing his fingers over my exposed pussy.
“…that you want nothing more than to belong to me.”
I can’t help it—I let out a moan, knowing that my voice will be joining the cacophony of pleasure outside. But his fingers feel so good, grazing along the outside of my folds like that, and I can’t think of anything I want more than to feel him inside of me, really inside of me.
He straightens back up and removes himself from his pants, wrapping his hand around his cock. I glance back over my shoulder and find that he is already lining himself up against my slit. I’ve only done this position a few times, but I have to admit, it’s one of my favorites. And right now, it feels like the exact right pose for me to be in as I prepare to give myself up to this guy whose name I don’t even know.
I gasp as I feel him enter me for the first time, a shock of pleasure coursing through my system and sending an explosion of moans from between my lips. He slides his hands to my hips, holding me steady for a moment as he just grinds himself inside of me.
“Fuck, you feel just as good as I thought,” he murmurs as he stills himself within me, allowing me to adjust to the feel of him filling me from this angle. I can hardly catch my breath, but as he brings his hand to my hair and tugs it back slightly, he makes it so I have no choice but to look into his eyes.
“There you go,” he continues, starting to drive himself into me at a steady pace. It feels as though he’s taking his time, enjoying every inch of me from the inside out, and I can feel the movement starting to build to a pleasurable crescendo inside of me.
“Push back against me,” he orders, his voice low, and I do as I’m told at once, grinding myself back into him as though it’s the only thing in the world that matters. For now, maybe it is—I know this is crazy, and I know it’s unlike anything else I’ve ever done before, but there is an undeniable freedom in it. Knowing that I would never do something like this, but I can give in to it here, behind this mask, where nobody will ever know it was me…
He slips his hand between my legs and begins to play with my clit as he moves into me, his cock entering me in long, deep strokes that I can feel shuddering through my whole body. I’m moving back against him to match his pace, practically demanding the feel of him inside of me—nothing will sate it, nothing can come close, nothing but him, right now, his hand between my legs as he enters me…
And all at once, the orgasm takes control of me, my body spasming and my pussy clenching around his dick as I reach my release. I cry out, scrabbling at the sheets before me, looking for something, anything, to cling to—but there’s nothing. All I can do is sink into the pleasure and let it consume me as he continues to move in and out of me while I orgasm around him.
I can barely hear what he’s saying, but I am distantly aware of him telling me that I’m a good girl—and then I feel the twitch of him inside of me, followed by the warmth of his seed entering me. At that moment, for the first time, it flickers through my mind that we are not using protection—but my brain is so scrambled from the intensity of the pleasure, I find it hard to give a damn.
He holds himself inside me for a long time before he eases back, as though he’s enjoying every contour of me for just another few seconds before he’s done. But then, finally, he staggers back, and I collapse forward onto the bed, my elbows finally giving out beneath me.
He rubs a hand over my ass appreciatively, and grins as he brushes his finger along the tattoo on my upper thigh. I picked that spot deliberately, knowing that I can hide it easily if I ever need to cover up. It’s a special symbol to me, something that means a lot—something that has always brought me luck.
“I like your peacock,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb along the bird inked onto my skin. And as I sink further into the bed, all I can do is struggle to keep my eyes open, and wonder how I’m meant to get through the rest of the night.
Or if I’m ever even going to know the name of the man who just gave me the most intense orgasm of my life.
