Chapter 11

11

E LIZABETH

We could go anywhere right now.

I don’t care where we’re headed. Everything looks fine to me as long as I’m with him.

We make a good team.

He and I.

Smiling, I sneak a glance at the handsome man in the driver’s seat. The dashboard light casts a glow over his face. His eyes look like melted gemstones while his lips cradle a mysterious smile.

His clothes look sharp as if it hasn’t taken him twenty minutes to remove semen stains from his pants and seat.

My appearance is sharp, too, or so I like to think.

I pulled my dress down, ran my fingers through my hair, and draped my coat over my shoulders before reapplying my lipstick in the vanity mirror under his eyes.

He beamed with curiosity and admiration, and I felt like I was walking on clouds.

Even though I’m trying not to be obvious about studying his face, I know he knows I’m looking at him.

It’s how he flexes his arm and clutches the steering wheel, hiding a secret smile in the tiny silky folds of his blue irises.

I wish I could tell him he looks like a dream come true.

Like a memory that I will forever keep in my heart.

I wish he could tell me what made his first love story go rogue and him get carried away by the idea of little old me.

I wish I could tell him we could probably be more than this. More than a handsome man and a sexy woman experiencing mind blowing sex.

But saying it will not make it happen, so I keep this sweet, self–indulging secret to myself.

We’re driving for about an hour before entering one of the quaintest towns of Long Island. Before long, we leave the stores, the cafes, and the restaurants behind and follow a snaking road to a secluded property.

I glance at him with questions in my eyes.

“It’s not my place. It’s only a party we’ve been invited to,” he says in response to my puzzled look.

What a life I’m living.

Yesterday, I spent my evening at Sexton's residence in Colorado.

Today, I took a charter plane to New York.

And now I’m about to have a lavish experience on Long Island.

My life is the book.

Dangling lanterns and Halloween decorations guide us to a round driveway.

Several cars are parked to the side while holographic projections of ghosts and skulls line the dark windows.

This is serious business, the bluish silhouettes gleaming against the black background.

“This is for you,” he says, reaching inside the glove box and pulling out a soft, silky, black mask.

He hands it to me while I look at him.

“I have one, too,” he adds, sliding his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and scooping out his.

“Ready,” he says, smiling softly.

“Yeah… Yes, I am,” I say, pulled out of my reverie.

We step out before putting the masquerade masks on.

His hand rests on my lower back as he shows me to the entrance.

No one greets us when we walk into the house.

Apparently, the windows are only a preview of the house.

A blue light glows around the rooms, highlighting more holograms.

Nobody pays attention to them, a haunting music wafting through the air while men and women decked out in fancy clothes sip cocktails, dance, or make out.

It’s a decadent party with people determined to make it even more memorable.

We mingle in without talking to anyone in particular.

He must know the owners of the house, or we wouldn’t be here.

Whatever the setup, it works for everybody.

I, for one, like it a lot.

We get to be together in public and enjoy ourselves without the fear of being recognized.

I place my coat on a hanger in a walk-in closet assigned to the guests and follow him to the main room, my hand locked in his.

Even with a mask on and cloaked in anonymity, he still stands out.

Or I’m in love and biased.

Or both.

When he curls his arm around my waist and pulls me into his frame so we can dance, it’s like sliding into a pool of warm honey.

I get high on his closeness, the smell of his skin, and the fire simmering in his blood.

The need to lock lips presses us with a vengeance, so before long, we kiss, and it’s the most freeing, exhilarating feeling ever.

For an hour or two or the entire night, we become legitimate lovers.

His hand slides down my back and follows the swell of my rear before squeezing it gently.

The echo of his touch troubles my center greatly.

As the need for him soars in me, I relay that to him gently by running the back of my hand down his fly.

“How much longer do we need to stay here?” I ask, although we haven’t spent that much time in here, making conversation about delicious canapés and spider-shaped cookies.

“You wanna leave?” he asks,a smile on his face, my hand fully cupping his erection.

I nod, a teasing grin tickling my lips.

“I want to get naked with you,” I say, crazy lights rotating in the room, a smell of mint permeating the air.

“We’ll need to find a motel,” he says.

“A motel it is. We’re good with motels,” I say, giving him a playful grin and a soft wink.

He breathes a sultry chuckle that pushes goosebumps across my skin.

“Let’s go then,” he says, without wasting another moment.

ELIZABETH

We leave the party like two drifters turned into petty thieves. My pockets are lined with spider-shaped cookies and mandarins, and he has a bottle of wine tucked in his jacket.

We are so anxious to get to the motel and roll between the sheets that we can’t be slowed down by little details like me being hungry and us looking for drinks in the middle of the night.

It’s enough that we don’t know where we’ll be spending the night.

We’re too far from his house or his hotel, and we don’t want to fuck in the car.

He holds the door for me, his gaze tipped down, his attention on some search results his phone has produced, while I slide into my seat.

It’s late and since this is Halloween night, it might pose a challenge.

He rounds the car and reclaims his seat.

Turning on the ignition, he places the first call.

There are no rooms.

He slowly lets the car roll and makes another call. This time he gets no answer.

I touch the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“Let’s drive. I’m sure we’ll find something.”

He spends a couple of seconds reading my eyes.

“Are you sure?

“Yes. We’ll find something. I’m sure we will.”

We drive back and follow the northern shore, heading east.

The scenic view captures my imagination.

The houses and roads are pretty, and before long, we spot a sign.

“What about that?”

It’s a small motel with a cute sign and a lit entrance.

A few cars are parked in the front.

“Yeah. That might work.”

He turns left and enters the parking lot before pulling his ride to a full stop.

I wait for him while he makes a beeline for the entrance, and a few minutes later, he’s back with a key in his hand.

“I ordered some real food and coffee,” he says as I step out, and he slams the door shut.

A short trip later, he pushes the door to a dark room open. He turns on the lights, and a small space fills my view. It has a green carpet, a big wooden bed with a thick mattress, plump pillows, a duvet, and blankets.

It doesn’t look bad at all. Two small armchairs and a table lean against the window wall.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says, removing his jacket and setting the bottle of wine on the table.

Two glasses and two water bottles sit in the center of the wooden table.

A soft knock on the door makes me glance at the entrance.

“It’s the food,” he says, pivoting to the door.

Whoever is outside––a woman, I believe––hands him a tray.

He thanks her and locks the door.

The smell of warm food fills the room. I'm so hungry.

He sets the tray on the table, and I let my gaze hover over it.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he says as my mouth waters at the idea of a warm bowl of mac and cheese.

“You wanna eat?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He removes my coat and pulls the chair out before I slide into my seat.

“You’re not hungry?” I ask when he takes a seat across from me and pours two glasses of wine, showing no intention of tasting his food.

He clicks his tongue in response.

“I’m good.”

My cheeks burn with a blush as I chew on my food, his eyes pinned on my face.

Perfectly aware of my nerves, he takes a sip of his drink and pushes his chair back.

“I’ll let you eat and shower in the meantime.”

He rises from his seat, leaves his drink on the table, and takes his clothes off behind me before walking to the bathroom.

Silence grows in his wake.

What a night.

I look around the room, my hunger finally quenched, and I drink some wine.

I pull a cookie and a piece of fruit from my coat and eat them both, their aroma blending in my mouth.

The water runs in the bathroom as I push up and shift to the window. The world outside is quiet and serene, and the moon shines down on us, painting a dusty trail of silver.

I turn around and take off my clothes before heading to the bathroom.

My hands are busy pulling back and tying my mane up into a bun with the help of a strand of hair as I walk into the small bathroom.

The glass walls of the shower are blurry from the steam, but even so, I glimpse his towering silhouette.

I think he’s purposefully waited for me, so when he slides the door open, I take it as a blatant invitation and step in.

A cloud of mist surrounds me before his arms create a shield around my body.

His closeness is inebriating, yet safe and calm.

Without words, he nudges me around and slowly starts to clean me. His hands go down my back, around my hips, and up my front before holding my boobs.

I press my palms into the glass and look down, filling my eyes with him as he creates storms of pleasure across my skin.

He slides closer so I can feel the bulbous tip of his erection. At first, he tips it up to leave an imprint on my lower back.

His hard flesh gives me a rush, which is enhanced by his lips trailing my neck.

He keeps kneading my chest, his body lining my back when I reach behind me, cuff his girth, and slowly stroke him.

I want him to push himself between my legs.

Gently, I thrust my rear out, and he peels his hand from my chest, grabs his hard-on, and presses the tip against my entrance while I part my legs.

“Let’s do this again,” he breathes against my neck, rocking his hips at a slow pace and filling me up rhythmically while squeezing my boobs.

Warm kisses cater to the nerve endings asleep in my skin, and my body responds with trembling and churning out more heat.

This feels good.

Him thrusting into me, my center getting wet and needy, his hands claiming me, his lips covering me in goosebumps.

He takes me to the peak so easily because I’ve craved this for so long. And when I shudder and moan, he kisses me hard and stays inside me, so I clench around him and sail an immense ocean of pleasure.

He enjoys his peak later, ramming into me, unleashing the tension harbored in him for a while.

His release drips down my legs, his breaths settling into a normal rhythm when he locks his arms around me and presses his lips against my hair.

“I missed you, beautiful woman,” he says, and my heart gets shattered.