By admin 
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The masquerade ball was everything I had imagined—opulent and mysterious, the flickering candlelight casting long, shadowy figures on the walls, while soft strains of violins floated through the air. I stood in the corner of the grand ballroom, my mask shimmering beneath the dim light, the delicate lace against my skin both thrilling and confining. The guests around me were dressed in extravagant costumes, their identities hidden beneath layers of silk, velvet, and elaborate masks, creating a surreal atmosphere of anonymity.
I had come for the allure of the night, the escape from the mundane, and the promise of anonymity, but I had no idea how quickly the line between fantasy and reality would blur.
It was when I felt his presence that I first knew things had shifted. I couldn’t see him at first, but I felt the subtle shift in the air, the way the space around me seemed to tighten, like a magnetic field drawing everything in. The back of my neck prickled, and I turned, my eyes scanning the room for the source of that energy.
And then, there he was.
He stood just a few feet away, cloaked in deep black and silver, his mask an intricate pattern of gold that hid most of his features but left his sharp jawline exposed. His eyes, however, were clear and intense, locking onto mine with a gaze that made everything around us fall away. It was as if we were the only two people in the entire ballroom. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched me, studying me with a hunger I could almost feel against my skin.
A thrill ran through me, both thrilling and terrifying, and my breath caught in my throat.
His lips curled into a smile, slow and deliberate, like he knew something I didn’t, and the corner of his eyes glinted with mischief. I had no idea who he was, but the way he looked at me—like I was the only one who mattered—made my pulse quicken.
Without breaking our gaze, he stepped closer. The air seemed to grow heavier with every step he took, and by the time he was standing beside me, I could feel his warmth, the subtle pull of his presence that seemed to consume everything else around us.
“I’ve been watching you,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like dark chocolate melting on my tongue. There was no hint of hesitation in his tone, only certainty. “You’ve been watching me too, haven’t you?”
I swallowed, my throat dry, my body betraying me with the heat blooming in my chest. There was something magnetic about him, something that made the room feel smaller, more intimate, even though we were surrounded by hundreds of strangers. His words had been a challenge, but it wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.
“I—yes,” I whispered, the confession slipping out before I could stop it.
His lips parted slightly, as if amused by my answer, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, his eyes dropped to my lips, and the shift in his focus was so subtle, so fluid, that I almost didn’t notice it at first. But then, as if guided by some unspoken signal, he reached out, his hand brushing against mine in the gentlest of touches.
I should have pulled away. I should have retreated, but I didn’t. There was something about the way he looked at me, something in the way his fingers barely touched mine, but still left a spark that danced through my skin, that made me want to stay. To feel more.
His hand closed around mine, his fingers curling possessively, and my heart raced. He led me into the center of the ballroom, his hand never leaving mine. We were invisible here, hidden behind masks and the crowd of strangers, and yet, in his presence, I felt entirely exposed.
Without a word, he guided me to a quiet corner near a tall column, where the music seemed to fade into the background. The crowd was far enough away that it felt as though we were in our own world now, separated from the glamour and noise of the rest of the ball. My pulse was still racing, my breath shallow, but I didn’t pull away.
He stood in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, but just out of reach. His eyes traced over me slowly, taking in every detail, from the curve of my lips to the delicate lace of my dress. The way he looked at me—it was as if he were undressing me with his eyes, but there was no shame in it. Only a quiet, unspoken promise of something more.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice so quiet, yet it resonated in the space between us like a command.
I hesitated, not sure what I should say, but the question didn’t feel like an obligation. It felt more like an invitation, like he was asking me to reveal something I didn’t even know I wanted.
“I don’t know,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. But it was the truth. I didn’t know what I wanted. All I knew was that the distance between us felt unbearable, that the quiet intensity in his eyes was enough to make me forget everything else.
He took a small step forward, closing the gap between us, and I felt the rush of his presence again, stronger this time. He was so close now that I could feel the heat from his body, the subtle strength of him. His breath was warm on my skin, and his fingers lightly traced the curve of my arm, sending a trail of shivers down my spine.
His lips brushed against my ear, his voice so soft, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through me. “Do you feel it, too? The pull between us?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, my heart pounding in my chest.
His hand moved to the small of my back, pulling me against him, and I felt the weight of his body pressed against mine. His lips were a whisper away from mine, but he didn’t kiss me yet. He hovered there, close enough that I could taste the anticipation in the air.
“I want you,” he said, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke, but never fully kissing me. The words were simple, but the way he said them, the way they vibrated between us, made my stomach flip.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. My body was already telling him everything he needed to know.
With one swift, deliberate motion, he lifted the skirt of my dress and disappeared between my legs, expertly moving anything standing in his way aside until his tongue found my clit. With expert motions, it moved in circles, leaving my hands grasping at the wall behind me to steady myself as my knees began to buckle slightly and my breath began to quicken.
His mouth moved against my body, flicking teasingly around my lips until his tongue slid firmly inside of me, eliciting a long sigh from deep in my chest that surprised even me. He continued, my breath quickening and my body tensing as it neared the point of no return.
Finally, I let go, crying out and panting as I felt the wetness drip from me, felt him lick my skin greedily.
When he came up from beneath my skirts, his lips finally met mine. Soft at first, tender, like he was taking his time to let me taste myself on his mouth. As the kiss deepened, it became more urgent, more consuming. His hands roamed over my back, pulling me closer, while mine moved to the edges of his coat, tugging it off him, desperate to feel more.
As we finally broke the kiss, both of us gasping for air, I knew this night was one I would never forget.