“I want to paint you,” she murmured.
He let out a low laugh. “Not if it stops you from touching me. Right now, I’d rather give you my cock than a paintbrush.”
He stopped guiding her, and his fingers moved to her hair. With his other hand, he cupped her jaw as her lips parted and her tongue touched the tip. Their eyes met, and his gaze echoed the desire pulsing through her.
“The mask is working for me right now, gorgeous.” The low, raspy sound of his voice left her wanting more.
She closed her eyes and took him in her mouth, then swirled her tongue around the head, tasting him. This man who’d walked out of her fantasies and into her life, he wanted her, right here, right now, in this moment. He accepted her curves, saw beauty where she saw a body she’d hidden for so long. And he liked the mask, which allowed her to cling to that description—gorgeous. She loved the way he said the word, and the look in his eyes that suggested he meant it.
“Me too,” she murmured, her lips resting against the soft skin she wanted to feel inside of her before the night ended. But for now, she stroked him. “Me too.”
Cade stared down at the masked beauty. When he’d walked into the opening party, he’d had a plan in mind—find Natalie’s little sister and keep her distracted. Instead, he’d broken his friend’s trust by allowing her sister to literally blow him away with that mouth.
Right or wrong, he couldn’t walk away from the chance to be Lucia’s fantasy. He’d known that from the minute she’d raised the chocolate-covered berry to her lips.
But Lucia was so much more than a beautiful woman who could drive a man wild eating chocolate. He’d seen glimpses of the insecurities that haunted her. Part of him wanted to hunt down the men who’d given her reason to be ashamed of her beauty. From where he stood, every inch of her was designed to drive him freaking insane with lust. And he wanted…oh, God…
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as she took him deep. He fought the need to thrust into her mouth as she took him in, running her lips up and down, again and again and again.
“Lucia.” He opened his eyes and demanded her attention.
She looked up at him but refused to release him from between her sweet lips. Her hand stroked him, harder, faster.
“Lucia,” he tried again. “I’m going to come soon. I can’t hold on any longer. When I do, I want to come in your mouth, gorgeous. The next time, I’ll pull back. I swear.”
She let out a low sound that he felt from head to freaking toe. It sounded a helluva lot like a yes. And she didn’t let go or move away.
“And Lucia.” His gaze connected with hers. “I’ll beg you to suck me again. You can count on it.”
She began to move, her lips gliding up and down. Her fingers followed, stroking him, pushing him closer. Her free hand ran up his thigh and around his hip. She pressed her tongue against his dick and held tight to his ass.
The pleasure took hold, demanding his attention, rushing over his body. Head thrown back, he roared. He didn’t care if he woke half the hotel. His hands went to the back of her head as he thrust into her mouth.
“Un-fucking-believable,” he murmured, struggling to catch his breath in the aftermath of an orgasm that made him want to slump to the ground and beg the goddess kneeling at his feet for more.
“You can cross number four off your list,” he added, withdrawing his hands from her tangled hair. Caught up in his own mind-blowing pleasure, he’d made a mess of her long locks. “Only one item left. But I’m going to need a few minutes before you tie me to—”
“Oh, no,” she gasped.
He opened his eyes and looked down. What was she…
Her mask.
The painted side rested against the carpet, the black ribbons loose on the floor beside her knees. She scrambled and picked the mask up. But not before he caught a glimpse of her face.
Now he understood why she’d insisted on the mask. Someone had hurt her and left the scars to prove it.
She picked up the mask and brought it to her face, but he gently put his hand on her arm.
“You don’t need it,” he said. “Not with me.”
She slowly lowere
d the mask and studied his face, and he hoped she could see his sincerity.
“Lucia,” he said, shoving aside his questions of how and why she’d been hurt. That conversation would come later—assuming she wanted to talk about it at all. Right now, though, he saw a flash of shame cross her face, and he wished he knew how to convince her she had nothing to be ashamed of. Not with him. Not at all. The scars did nothing to hide how insanely beautiful she was.
But when he opened his mouth, his protective instincts came forward and one question took precedent.