OK, so I came home from Fandom Fest the other day and had this RABID idea for a story. Right now its called Masquerade and its a m/f/m menage story. I’ve been crazy about writing it, like producing thousands of words in a day, which isn’t like me at all. Well today and yesterday I kind of lost my momentum, but I think it may have just returned. Take a look at the little excerpt and do tell me what you think. Unless of course you want to tell me it sucks, in which case… just keep it to yourself.
He stood there motionless, staring up at her as if he’d been waiting. As she descended the staircase, she could see that he was tall and solidly built with closely cut hair. He was wearing a mask, so she couldn’t see his face, but his eyes seemed to pierce from behind it. His suit was formal, solid black save for the blinding white shirt beneath his jacket. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, he offered his arm and smiled warmly. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” she stammered, taking his arm and allowing him to lead her into the room.
He chuckled softly. “You might be surprised at how well we know you.”
“You don’t even know my name.”
“It’s true,” he continued, taking her on a twisting path through the crowd which barely noticed their passing. “Its one of our rules here. No names. No identity. Its always a masquerade ball.”
“And where is here, dare I ask? Or is that one of the rules too?” Blythe stared up at him, trying to discern some familiarity from what she could see of his face beneath the mask he wore.
He leaned in, whispering softly against her ear. “A place to get lost. A place to do what you will and have whatever your evil little heart desires.” She inhaled deeply, taking in the spicy musk of him as his skin brushed against hers. “A virtual garden of forbidden pleasures,” he purred, pulling her against him as they began to sway in time with the haunting music that swirled around them.
“I think I like this place already,” she sighed, leaning into him so that she could feel his warmth against her body. His arms went around her waist and she could feel the strength in them. The muscles in his chest were hard against her soft ones, save for the hardening buds of her nipples. Just his voice, his subtle movements had already made her break out in gooseflesh all along her arms and across the exposed center of her chest.
“You’re shivering. Do I intimidate you?” he asked, twirling her into the center of the crowd. Streaks of colors and light blurred together, making her dizzy as he pulled her around the floor. Voices and laughter pounded in her ear and everything looked larger than life. For a moment she wondered if perhaps she’d been drugged in some way. Everything was too bright, too vivid… too much. She sighed and fell limp into the masked stranger’s embrace, letting him pull her this way and that
in the rag doll dance.
“I don’t know what to think…” she murmured.
“Then don’t.” He dipped her low and placed a burning kiss in the center of her chest. “Only feel your way through, love.” With that he jerked her upright again, crushing her tight against his chest and nearly knocking the breath from her lungs. “Ask yourself—what do you want? What is your darkest desire?” Tangling his hands in the bun at the back of her neck, he pulled her head roughly to one side, breathing hot against the delicate skin of her neck. “A rough lover that will take you hard and fast, marking your body with bruises to help you remember?” He bit down on the soft flesh just over her jugular until she gave a little shriek and then soothed it with gentle sweeps of his tongue and lips. “Or perhaps a slow and sensual fuck that seems to be some never ending dream?” His hands slid down her spine to rest on the curve of her ass left open by the silken dress.
“Do I have to choose?” she sighed, rubbing her cheek against his and reveling in the friction between their skin.
He smiled wickedly, dipping her low again until the room turned upside down. “That’s the spirit, love.”