The dream was over, crashing and burning with dawn.
Nothing should’ve stopped them. The gate should’ve been open.
Under the mask the housekeeper had given her, she’d only gone to the party to observe, to experience a night in this foreign country. It hadn’t been long until her modesty lifted with the pulse of the crowd, the pull of the energy, and the recklessness of life. Someone handed her the cape, she shed her dress and joined the world, fearing nothing as she danced with the night.
When she reached him in the crowded plaza, she hadn’t held back. She’d given her spirit over without thinking, and he hadn’t let her go. Drugged by music and freedom, the truth of her reality faded into the ether.
Until they reached the gate.
He glanced up, then back at her. The capes shrugged off his wide shoulder, falling to his grasp, and he held hers out as if offering her a chance to back away.
She recoiled at the thought.
This couldn’t be the end. She wouldn’t take it, couldn’t pretend tonight hadn’t happened. Everything, for once, felt too right. Shielding her body from him wasn’t an option.
Her mask clung to her sweaty face, trapping her exhale as his gaze penetrated something inside her that had never stirred. Her heart felt swollen, her soul exposed. As if her flesh could never protect her from whatever he was.
Hands clasping together, she stroked the skin of her bare fingers.
“Speak.”
It was a plea and a demand, and his tone made her smile. No one talked to her like that. Everyone treated her like she was porcelain, as if she needed extra care. Or a savior. That night she’d needed neither, and the man before her seemed to sense it.
Hidden behind the mask in the cloak of night, she’d finally felt alive.
Sunlight devoured the shadows as the earth awoke. A scratching at the gate made her look up. It was a little grey bird the size of her hand, its wrinkled feet grasping for a landing and holding tight. It looked at her, cocked its head to the side and back again, then looked up. Searching the pink and orange hues of the sky, it chirped in short bursts before flying away again.
Its wings batted against invisible resistance, lifted it higher and faster until was a black dot against the burning sky. She wished she were the bird. That the soaring exhilaration of the night would never go away. That the world would forever be at her fingertips.
If only she could fly.
Her gaze fell to the house behind the gate. Why had she brought him here? The imprisoning isolation of it reminded her of who she was.
And wasn’t.
Heavy fabric draped over her shoulders, fluttering at her thighs and enveloping her body. His fingers brushed her collarbones as he pulled it tighter, leaving only a sliver open for air to rush her skin, and let his hands fall to her hips.
“What are you thinking?”
It was the first full sentence he’d spoken to her, and the first English that wasn’t accented since she’d arrived in the country. Had she heard him right?
“ Que ?” she murmured.
His chest rose against her back, relaxing with a sigh. Arms tightening around her middle, his arousal nudged the cleft of her ass through the cape. “There’s so much to say. Of course you don’t speak English.”
She leaned back against him, resting her head against the line of his shoulder as her hands settled over his.
Out of all the people in town, it was among all the impossibles that she’d find the one who spoke English, and the only person who seemed to know her without asking.
Nothing should’ve stopped them. The gate should’ve been open.
Under the mask the housekeeper had given her, she’d only gone to the party to observe, to experience a night in this foreign country. It hadn’t been long until her modesty lifted with the pulse of the crowd, the pull of the energy, and the recklessness of life. Someone handed her the cape, she shed her dress and joined the world, fearing nothing as she danced with the night.
When she reached him in the crowded plaza, she hadn’t held back. She’d given her spirit over without thinking, and he hadn’t let her go. Drugged by music and freedom, the truth of her reality faded into the ether.
Until they reached the gate.
He glanced up, then back at her. The capes shrugged off his wide shoulder, falling to his grasp, and he held hers out as if offering her a chance to back away.
She recoiled at the thought.
This couldn’t be the end. She wouldn’t take it, couldn’t pretend tonight hadn’t happened. Everything, for once, felt too right. Shielding her body from him wasn’t an option.
Her mask clung to her sweaty face, trapping her exhale as his gaze penetrated something inside her that had never stirred. Her heart felt swollen, her soul exposed. As if her flesh could never protect her from whatever he was.
Hands clasping together, she stroked the skin of her bare fingers.
“Speak.”
It was a plea and a demand, and his tone made her smile. No one talked to her like that. Everyone treated her like she was porcelain, as if she needed extra care. Or a savior. That night she’d needed neither, and the man before her seemed to sense it.
Hidden behind the mask in the cloak of night, she’d finally felt alive.
Sunlight devoured the shadows as the earth awoke. A scratching at the gate made her look up. It was a little grey bird the size of her hand, its wrinkled feet grasping for a landing and holding tight. It looked at her, cocked its head to the side and back again, then looked up. Searching the pink and orange hues of the sky, it chirped in short bursts before flying away again.
Its wings batted against invisible resistance, lifted it higher and faster until was a black dot against the burning sky. She wished she were the bird. That the soaring exhilaration of the night would never go away. That the world would forever be at her fingertips.
If only she could fly.
Her gaze fell to the house behind the gate. Why had she brought him here? The imprisoning isolation of it reminded her of who she was.
And wasn’t.
Heavy fabric draped over her shoulders, fluttering at her thighs and enveloping her body. His fingers brushed her collarbones as he pulled it tighter, leaving only a sliver open for air to rush her skin, and let his hands fall to her hips.
“What are you thinking?”
It was the first full sentence he’d spoken to her, and the first English that wasn’t accented since she’d arrived in the country. Had she heard him right?
“ Que ?” she murmured.
His chest rose against her back, relaxing with a sigh. Arms tightening around her middle, his arousal nudged the cleft of her ass through the cape. “There’s so much to say. Of course you don’t speak English.”
She leaned back against him, resting her head against the line of his shoulder as her hands settled over his.
Out of all the people in town, it was among all the impossibles that she’d find the one who spoke English, and the only person who seemed to know her without asking.
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Without demanding. Without sucking the life out of each moment she wanted to cherish, in the name of protecting her.
She rolled her head to the side, allowing his breath to billow through the crown of her hair. It whooshed in her ear, tangled in the curls of the mask, and sent a thrill skipping down her spine.
Pulling away from his embrace, she turned.
He caught her fingers in his, pulling her closer and leaning his head down until the foreheads of their masks clinked.
She reached up to cup his face and he dropped his hands to the dip of her back, pulling her pelvis to his without restricting her movement. Cock pressing thick and hard against her naked belly, his eyes bore into hers. The intensity in his gaze was a feeling she shared, though it terrified her to the depths of everything she thought she was.
Her fingers found the ridged front of his mask. She stopped, searching his eyes.
“Do it.”
Tucking her rust-polished fingernails under the ornate golden cheeks, she urged the papier-mache face upward. The elastic band swept through his dark locks and popped back at her fingers as inch by inch she revealed him. A stubbled chin, full lower lip, bowed upper one. The straight nose. Coal black burning gaze, framed by fine, long lashes.
The mask trembled in her grip, her arms falling to her sides as recognition electrified her skin.
He was one of the new members of the band at Marco’s favorite nightclub. The man played his bass with the same intensity he bestowed upon her now. His passion lent sound to the beat of life, but his breaks were always spent alone. Watching. Listening. Taking it all in.
As had she. Dressed up and made up, wearing stilettos that crushed her feet and a smile polite enough to appease the men around her while destroying her soul, she watched the world as it passed by.
They’d never spoken, but she had so much to say to him now.
His hands skimmed up the silhouette of her body, drifting under the collar of the cape before moving up once more. Fingers resting on the edge of her mask, he hesitated.
She swallowed. Let his mask spiral to the ground. Her fingers wrapped around the thick shaft of his warm, erect cock. Stroked upward.
A smile quirked at his lips. He lifted the mask off her face and let it fall.
“God. You’re beautiful.” He shook his head a little, taking her face in his palms. “I wish you could understand me. Or that I knew enough Spanish to understand you.”
Pumping his smooth, throbbing cock, she took a shaky breath. “This isn’t fair to you.”
His dark eyebrows rose, his hands gliding over her shoulders and down her back before squeezing her ass cheeks. “It’s more than fair.”
“Listen to me, or leave me now.” She swallowed again, and took a deep breath. “I know where the gardener hid the key, but we don’t have much time. It’s behind the second brick from the bottom next to the fence. You can follow me inside or you can take me here, in any way you want to.”
The tip of his dick oozed over her hand. She spread her grip. The liquid dribbled between her fingers, lubricating her strokes.
“I’m lost.” Her words were nearly inaudible. “I live here, in the house beyond this gate. But I’ve been lost all my life until this moment.”
That gaze focused on her mouth, making her hotter. Wetter. Needier. Pumping his cock, she squeezed her legs together. She was going to lose focus soon if she couldn’t voice the rest.
The words resisted her lips, but she had to say them.
“My husband will be home soon.”
She rolled her head to the side, allowing his breath to billow through the crown of her hair. It whooshed in her ear, tangled in the curls of the mask, and sent a thrill skipping down her spine.
Pulling away from his embrace, she turned.
He caught her fingers in his, pulling her closer and leaning his head down until the foreheads of their masks clinked.
She reached up to cup his face and he dropped his hands to the dip of her back, pulling her pelvis to his without restricting her movement. Cock pressing thick and hard against her naked belly, his eyes bore into hers. The intensity in his gaze was a feeling she shared, though it terrified her to the depths of everything she thought she was.
Her fingers found the ridged front of his mask. She stopped, searching his eyes.
“Do it.”
Tucking her rust-polished fingernails under the ornate golden cheeks, she urged the papier-mache face upward. The elastic band swept through his dark locks and popped back at her fingers as inch by inch she revealed him. A stubbled chin, full lower lip, bowed upper one. The straight nose. Coal black burning gaze, framed by fine, long lashes.
The mask trembled in her grip, her arms falling to her sides as recognition electrified her skin.
He was one of the new members of the band at Marco’s favorite nightclub. The man played his bass with the same intensity he bestowed upon her now. His passion lent sound to the beat of life, but his breaks were always spent alone. Watching. Listening. Taking it all in.
As had she. Dressed up and made up, wearing stilettos that crushed her feet and a smile polite enough to appease the men around her while destroying her soul, she watched the world as it passed by.
They’d never spoken, but she had so much to say to him now.
His hands skimmed up the silhouette of her body, drifting under the collar of the cape before moving up once more. Fingers resting on the edge of her mask, he hesitated.
She swallowed. Let his mask spiral to the ground. Her fingers wrapped around the thick shaft of his warm, erect cock. Stroked upward.
A smile quirked at his lips. He lifted the mask off her face and let it fall.
“God. You’re beautiful.” He shook his head a little, taking her face in his palms. “I wish you could understand me. Or that I knew enough Spanish to understand you.”
Pumping his smooth, throbbing cock, she took a shaky breath. “This isn’t fair to you.”
His dark eyebrows rose, his hands gliding over her shoulders and down her back before squeezing her ass cheeks. “It’s more than fair.”
“Listen to me, or leave me now.” She swallowed again, and took a deep breath. “I know where the gardener hid the key, but we don’t have much time. It’s behind the second brick from the bottom next to the fence. You can follow me inside or you can take me here, in any way you want to.”
The tip of his dick oozed over her hand. She spread her grip. The liquid dribbled between her fingers, lubricating her strokes.
“I’m lost.” Her words were nearly inaudible. “I live here, in the house beyond this gate. But I’ve been lost all my life until this moment.”
That gaze focused on her mouth, making her hotter. Wetter. Needier. Pumping his cock, she squeezed her legs together. She was going to lose focus soon if she couldn’t voice the rest.
The words resisted her lips, but she had to say them.
“My husband will be home soon.”
