Wicked Masquerade Page 4

  At Ursa’s feet, Cupid groaned, his head turned to watch the spanking. He shivered and his hips rocked, though she couldn’t tell if it was in sympathy for the impact, or longing for it. His breath caught when the paddle connected again and then again.

  “You do like to watch,” she murmured, drawing his attention back to her.

  His dark gaze burned into her as he smiled. “I enjoy watching and thinking about showing off like that—imagining the sensation.”

  Nodding, she pushed the plate away and grinned at him. “I think I’d rather use a crop on my pony.”

  He moaned quietly and his eyes closed as the shiver ran through him. The man being spanked moaned brokenly and when she looked over at the pair, she saw through the shifting crowd that the woman had drawn the man’s cock from his loincloth and had her fingers wrapped around its base while paddling him with quick, sharp swings of the smooth wood. His ass glowed pink with darker red lines where she’d applied more force.

  The way the man squirmed and panted and moaned sounded frantic, as if he balanced on the brink of his control. Then the begging began and Ursa found herself squirming, pressing her thighs together as though it might ease the pressure that had built steadily through the meal.

  “Please, Lady!” the man moaned, his voice cracking. “Mercy, Lady! I’m so close! No more! Please!”

  The woman rubbed the smooth wood against his ass, as though she were smearing something into his welted flesh, and relented her paddling, smiling as she looked around the room. Her expression looked dreamy, full of pleasure, her eyelids heavy with desire.

  “You don’t want these fine people to see you come?” she taunted as she slowly stroked the man’s cock up to the head and back down.

  The man made a low, strangled sound as his hips shifted and bucked. “Oh yes!” He shuddered and his bare ass tensed but it was the only sign of a struggle he made to get away. Certainly, he could get away anytime he wanted, but he stayed over the woman’s lap, wrestling with his composure.

  “You are getting my thigh wet with your pre-cum, you naughty boy,” the woman said, her voice scolding.

  “I’m close, Lady,” he choked out and his head fell forward again, moans muffled against her leg as he tried to hide his face from the people.

  Cupid moaned beside her, drawing Ursa’s attention to her partner. He was looking at the alcove across from them where a woman was straddling the lap of her partner, facing him. Her short skirt slid up her muscular thighs to show off her ass. As the man lifted his ass up, the pair sighed in joined pleasure. The thick cock split the pink pussy lips so slowly that she could see the woman’s juices trickling down the hard cock flesh. She noticed they were not using a condom. It sent a sweet tingling ache through her to witness that intimacy.

  Cupid’s warm lips brushed over her thigh and his large hands stroked her calf and over her foot, drawing her attention down to him. His body was taut, his eyes burning into her as he squeezed her leg and foot, his fingers strong and insistent, working in tandem with the kisses he peppered up the inside of her leg. This time she didn’t push him away, letting her legs spread open wider.

  “Ugh! Lady, please! Let me come! I’m so close,” Impala begged in a sharpening gasp, pleading for the mercy of the woman who’d claimed him for her pleasure.

  Ursa slid her fingers into Cupid’s dark curls and let her thighs spread open wider as he kissed up to the level of her skirt and nuzzled under the fluffy layers of feather, silk and fabric. She watched the couple in the alcove. The man’s glistening cock glided back from the sweet little pussy as he lifted the woman up, allowing the head of his cock to slip free before dropping her down onto him with a wet slurp.

  “Not yet,” Butterfly whispered in a husky growl. “I’m not ready for your release!”

  Cupid’s hand slid up her thigh and Ursa spread her thighs wider. When his fingertips pressed into the soaked silk covering her pussy, his breath sucked in sharply. “Oh fuck!” He groaned and balled his fingers around the panties, making the cloth pinch along her plush hip before he yanked it away from her with a loud rip! He drew out the torn ribbons of her panties to dangle the white silk and lace before his nose, and breathed in her heady scent.

  The couple in the alcove beside them moaned in pleasure as the slapping sounds of their union grew louder but Ursa had no attention to spare for them. She felt Cupid’s black eyes devouring her as he laid the panties aside and pressed his fingers against her slippery pussy lips.

  Leisurely, he slid his fingertips between the swollen lips, gliding them across her clit. Everything about his touch—slow and teasing—from the light petting through her heat, smearing the sticky honey down her cleft to her ass, to the way the pads of his fingers rolled her cream around and around her pucker before drawing his caress back up to her pussy. Not pushing into her, just priming her or maybe waiting for her to demand his action.

  “Oh God,” she whispered when his thick finger pressed inside her. His thumb circled around her clit as one knuckle and then the second sank into her.

  “No, beautiful, not even one of her angels,” Cupid whispered into her ear as his long finger spread her open. “You’re so fucking tight! I will need to stretch you a bit, my little virgin.” He smiled into her eyes, the darkness of his gaze beautiful enough to inspire her awe and wonder.

  The Impala man cried out in a broken string of oaths and pleas, clearly being sweetly tormented to the brink of his endurance. The sound of it made Ursa moan and she rocked her hips toward the thick finger stretching her wide. Just that finger felt larger than anything she could remember attempting. Almost too much. Almost.

  Then he slipped a second finger into her and she tightened her grip on his long curls, biting down hard on her lower lip to keep the scream of pleasure trapped behind them. Pain. Pleasure. Need! She arched up, feeling each of his knuckles pushing into her. His fingers curled up against her while his palm nuzzled into her clit.

  She felt out of control! When had the tables been turned? Her toes curled and she struggled to regain her composure, but her resolve was so weak and his careful strokes in and out coaxed her swiftly toward the brink.

  “That’s right,” Cupid whispered into her ear, purring low. “I’ve got you, beautiful.”

  “Come! Come for me, you beautiful brute,” Butterfly woman commanded in a sterling tone, and with her order the man’s shattered cry of relief and release echoed through the room, matched by several other cries for those who were inspired by their play.

  Ursa found herself trapped in the pleasure as well. She gripped the thick wrist of her partner, wanting to stop him, but she was too far gone! Her face burned with a blush as she let out a fractured cry of pleasure and bucked against the fingers that curled up into her G-spot and rubbed just there with quick, steady pulses to push her over the edge of her climax.

  His other arm wrapped around her, his bare chest pressing into hers as he held her against him and fingered her through the quavering orgasm and murmured into her ear, “You’re so lovely when you fly to pieces! I could watch you all night long.”

  Her orgasm had happened so fast! Normally she required complicated coaxing to reach that brilliant peak, but this stranger in his mask, with his dark chocolate voice and mysterious eyes, plucked it from her so easily.

  When she found her voice, she panted, “But then you wouldn’t get your pleasure.”

  “How do you know this isn’t my pleasure?” he asked, nuzzling his face into her neck, his mask tickling her skin in contrast to his soft, warm lips.

  Her hand slid from his wrist and moved up his arm to his chest and then down his stomach to the front of his arming skirt. She felt him, hard and huge, under the guard of the studded leather and he rocked into her hand with a satisfying groan of need.

  “This,” she murmured and turned her head, grinning at him before she moved to kiss him.

  He sucked in a sharp, startled breath and jerked his head back just before her lips could make contact with
his.

  The reminder that theirs was casual, faceless sex cooled her passion. She jerked her head away with a murmur of apology. She drew her hand from his groin and pushed him from her with a palm to his massive shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she admitted, feeling foolish. “I shouldn’t have done that.” She grabbed up her torn panties, refusing to look at him as she fixed her skirts.

  “Owl.” His voice rumbled low, even though he let her draw back without resistance. “Let me explain. It’s not—”

  “No, it’s all right. You set the boundary. I shouldn’t be exchanging fluids with you.” She offered him a napkin without looking at him.

  “Kissing is—”

  She held up a hand to forestall his words. “I know it’s something people with an emotional connection do. I get it.”

  Despite her rational mind knowing it was safer than allowing herself to get invested in the handsome man, it still felt like a slap. For a moment, she thought about asking for the token back, but she’d felt how huge he was under that leather and, dear God, she wanted to feel that massive cock bare against her skin. She wanted to feel him against her tongue and taste him. Would he melt like chocolate in her mouth?

  She felt her lips twist into a smirk. He would have to use a condom with the oral sex so she wouldn’t find out his real flavor.

  When she looked up, she found Cupid watching her as though he were holding his breath. Around them the sounds of pleasure grew louder—moans, cries and groans, along with slaps of skin on skin. The musky scent of sex filled the room. “Is this a deal breaker?” he asked quietly.

  “No. I am just processing it.” She adjusted her mask to make sure she was still concealed, but couldn’t meet his gaze. “I think I should go check on the room before we get carried away.” She glanced over at the couple who had been screwing in the alcove, and they were now cuddling in a wet and sticky mess.

  He followed her gaze to the couple and murmured softly, “There’s a lot to be said for having a fluid bond but…it’s rare. Special. It doesn’t mean we can’t have fun though.”

  “Have you ever?” she asked.

  “Had sex without a condom?” He shook his head and smiled. “No. I always use protection, even with oral sex.”

  She nodded slowly and inclined her head. “Yeah, me neither. Although I’ve kissed people before.” The fact that no one else had tasted him either made her smile faintly.

  It was his turn to adjust his mask, and he cleared his throat lightly. “Well, if I don’t have a fluid bond with someone, I don’t kiss them on the mouth.”

  “I’ve read about that, but I didn’t know it excluded kissing.”

  His smile was kind. “For me, it’s more than just unprotected sex. It is a commitment to only be sexual with one person. I haven’t found anyone to make that bond with.” He watched her as he spoke and reached out, offering his hand to her. “Shall we go explore the room?”

  “I think so.” She slipped to her feet and offered her hand to him and his big hand closed around hers as she pulled him to his feet. Giving him an extra pull, she drew him closer to her and boldly leaned into him, pressing her curves into the hardness of his body. “I will try to resist putting my mouth all over you. Just know that I want to kiss you desperately.”

  He shivered and his gaze drifted to her mouth when she spoke, and then focused on her eyes. “Noted,” he whispered and moistened his lips. “I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, you are almost too irresistible.” His fingers curled around hers and he lifted the hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles one after the other before carefully grazing his teeth over her skin. “I would have to kiss you for hours if we allowed ourselves the pleasure.”

  Blushing, she pulled him along with her, the other hand balling up her panties. He coaxed them out of her hand and stuffed them into the quiver with his arrows before pulling her along to the stairs. They passed fewer people now as they moved down the hall, though distantly the piano was still being played.

  They walked by a closed room with a doorman guarding it and he nodded a greeting to them as they walked by. “Rumpus room,” Cupid told her when she slowed her steps. “You need special access to play in there.”

  “I have it,” she told him, and he tipped his head at her, peering curiously. “Is it like an orgy?”

  “You’d have gotten more orgy action at dinner if you wanted it, Owl, my sweet. Rumpus room usually has more bondage gear and hard play,” he murmured. “Sometimes there are themes and events.”

  She could feel his excited tension when she stopped. His fingers squeezed around hers before she wriggled them free so she could fish out her card. She flashed it to the doorman and he bowed his head to her after a quick look at the card. “Lady Owl.” His eyes shifted to Cupid and his smile widened. “Consort. Enjoy your stay.” He opened the door to the room to let them in.

  Inside, she expected to find a lair of red with the screams of the damned ringing around the room. Reality showed the large room bathed in soft candlelight and strewn with white-and-cream-colored pillows and blankets. The furniture was benches of various heights with D-rings affixed at various locations for attachments, each in royal- blue leather with black or cream accents. They were the only people in the room, but the smell of leather and the faint hint of sex lingered in the air.

  There were also the implements of play she expected, dangling from a display on the wall. Everything from feathers and fur to the more exotic tools of sweet torment. As she took in the assortment of crops and whips and floggers, she felt Cupid’s body tense, his breath catching. She turned to see the cause—the Saint Andrew’s Cross in the corner.

  “What do you like most?” she asked, looking back at Cupid.

  His eyes drew away from the cross. “It excites me most being at your mercy, Mistress.”

  “Then you had best take off that quiver and get naked so I can secure you before you escape me,” she said in her most serious tone, enjoying the shiver running through the large man’s frame.

  “Mistress.” Somehow, he made that a title full of respect and hunger as he shrugged the thick harness from his shoulders and offered it to her. “The condoms are in there…in case…”

  “I don’t think you’ve earned those,” she told him, accepting the harness, and noticed his wings stayed attached to his shoulders. There was no time to question him about his costume though, his arming skirt was coming off and in a swirl of heavy, studded leather, the thing was removed and he stood in all his naked glory before her.

  His cock stood out from his groin and gleamed like the rest of him, proud and furiously hard. His heavy balls looked full.

  Glorious.

  She licked her lips and then raked her gaze up his body and motioned for him to move to the cross. “Facing the cross if you will. I have uses for that ass of yours.”

  His throat worked in a jerky gulp as he met her eyes, then walked to the cross. The wings had a sharp falcon-like poise to them, the intricate bars of gold and cream increasing the image of the bird of prey, small but powerful and built for speed. They seemed to shiver and tremble with his movement. Without the strap, she could see smaller feathers blending into his shoulder blades and trailing down his spine to his ass.

  They looked firmly attached to him, and completely real.

  When she hesitated, he looked over his shoulder at her and an expression of wariness warred with his desire. “What is it?”

  “Your wings. Are you really an angel?” she asked, feeling silly when he gave her a teasing smile.

  “Of course not. Would an angel be a sexual deviant?” he teased and stretched his arms out, flexing his long fingers in a suggestive manner that made her belly tighten at the memory of how he’d stuffed two of them so deep into her pussy. The smile he fixed on her made her aware that she’d not hidden her response to that memory.

  “A fallen angel?” She smoothed her finger along the nape of his neck and down between his wide shoulders and the wings perche
d there in their nest of soft golden- and-black feathers before trailing them down his spine. When he shook his head and bit back a low groan she pressed, “Pegasus?” He moaned rather than answer. “Cupid, then.”

  Feeling his body shuddering, she pressed her lips against the center of his back, standing on tiptoes to reach that high, the chocolate scent of him mixing with the musk of his desire as feathers tickled her nose and cheek—careful, closed-mouth kisses down his skin and feathers.

  She caressed her open palm along his tight ass and slapped one cheek firmly before attending to the attachment of cuffs around his wrists and ankles. “And you know the word to make me stop?” she asked once his powerful limbs were secure.

  His nod and rasp of the word assured her he wouldn’t let her push him too far. Giving his ass another slap with her palm, she delighted in the feeling of power she had over the massive Cupid. He hung his head forward when she growled against his shoulder.

  “I’m going to make you come all over the cross.” The threat made gooseflesh prickle his smooth, tight skin. She pressed against his back, enjoying the heat radiating off him. “Then I’m going to rub myself to orgasm against your back and these wings. You won’t need to fuck me at all.”

  “Mistress, I swear I’ll be good!” he whimpered at her teasing, arching his back in a catlike motion when she rubbed against him. She even pulled her skirt up enough to press her slippery pussy against his thigh.

  “It’s not about being good, my handsome Cupid. It’s about how hot it is to deny you.” A spike of pleasure drove through her as she teased him. She could prevent him from coming and from taking what he wanted most—to be inside her. Her fingers traced his ass cheek, feeling the warm flesh where she’d slapped him. She pinched the spot before sliding her hand between his thighs.