groan from her lips. The edge of pleasure was too close already, but he didn’t want to hold back. Didn’t want to give her slow and sweet and sensual. No, this could only be hard and fast. Passionate. Furious.
He held her tight as she rocked against him, his hips thrusting up to meet her. Her teeth were at his neck, biting and scraping. Tugging. He smoothed a hand down the back of her head, feeling the ribbon holding her mask in place. Then he fisted the lengths of her silky hair and pulled so her face was tilted up to his. Her eyes rolled back and her lips parted, her cries soundless as she hovered at the precipice.
“You’re starting to shake.” The flutter of the muscles in her sex dragged him closer. “You’re so close. Remember what I said. I want you to come around my cock. Take every last drop.”
She trembled in his arms, her breaths turning to gasps as orgasm took hold of her. She squeezed him, her hips grinding as she wrung the pleasure from him. Dragging it out of them both until they peaked. He roared into her hair as the release shook him, his cock pulsing inside her.
* * *
Thankfully, Damian had a good grip on her, because that was the only thing stopping Lainey from tumbling back onto the floor of the limo. How long had they been driving? Had the driver heard everything going on back here? She reassured herself that if the guy drove limos for the rich and locally famous, he’d probably seen or heard a lot worse.
“Wow,” she breathed, her head resting against his shoulder.
“Wow, indeed.” His lips brushed her hair. “That was incredible.”
If only she could freeze time and stay here forever—in his arms, before the cold reality of what she’d done came crashing down like an avalanche. But it was officially time for Cinderella to turn into a pumpkin. Or something like that.
No doubt Damian would be a gentleman and offer to have the limo drop her home first, which couldn’t happen. He’d been to her place a few times. She’d have to give a fake address. Somewhere close enough for her to walk home safely, without giving the game away.
As she moved to climb off his lap, something shifted against her face. The mask slipped, and Lainey’s hand flew to the back of her head as shock seized her heart. She felt for the ribbon that held the mask in place, but all she could find were the frayed edges of where it should have attached.
Crap! One wrong move and she was about to have the mother of all wardrobe malfunctions.
“Is everything okay?” He reached out for her. But the gesture sent her into panic mode.
He could not find out her true identity. She couldn’t risk losing his respect, not to mention putting her friendship with Corinna on the line right before she was due to leave the country.
Just hold the damn mask and get the hell out of this car.
“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was tight. “I... I need to go.”
Damian glanced out the window. “Right now?”
They were driving down Swanston Street in the heart of the city, not at all close to her apartment. But there were plenty of people around, and she could hail a taxi. Besides, once Damian was gone, she didn’t need the mask. And then she’d just be a girl in a dress...a revealing, slightly too tight, impossibly expensive dress.
“Yes, please. Right now.” She searched for her clutch but couldn’t find it. Shit. Where had she left it?
Her breath came in shallow bursts, her ribs flexing against the tight fabric of the dress, which only served to amplify the panic. She needed her clutch—she wouldn’t be able to get back into the house without it. It had her keys, her money and ID. Oh, God, her ID!
If Damian saw it...
She spotted the bag on the floor of the limo. It must have been knocked down in their passionate encounter. She snatched it up and pressed it to her chest as though it were a life jacket.
“We can take you home,” he said. “I don’t like the idea of dropping you on the side of the road.”
“I live in the next block. It was...good timing.” Her voice was about as convincing as a politician telling people he had their best interests at heart. She wasn’t about to get into acting any time soon. “Please, ask him to stop.”
Damian sat still, his large frame seeming even more imposing in the wake of her panic. His lips pressed into a line, but he relented and zipped himself up before pressing the button to lower the privacy partition. A second later the limo pulled over.
“I don’t suppose you’ll give me your number?” he said. “Even if I promise not to ask your name.”
“I can’t.” She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes.
Why was she being so emotional? This was exactly what she wanted—a night with the perfect man. Her perfect man. No consequences...except that she hadn’t factored in her stupid heart.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She leaned forward and stole a kiss before pushing the door open and stepping out onto the street, her hand still holding her mask in place.
Lainey waited, her muscles tense and aching, until the limo pulled into the stream of Saturday-night traffic. It disappeared around a corner at the next intersection, and the air flew out of her lungs. Her chest hurt. Her head hurt. The tender spot between her legs hurt, but in the best way possible. Damian had left his mark on her, and she would never be the same.
“Just great,” she muttered to herself as she stuck her arm out to hail a taxi. “You’re ruined for other men.”
As the yellow vehicle pulled over, she opened her purse to dig out her phone. That was when she realised that her grandmother’s compact was missing.
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