I wilt and hold out my hand. “Fine, but you have to return it afterward. It’s much too expensive for me to keep.”
He takes my fingers and wraps them over the mask’s silk ties. “We’ll talk about that later. For now, get in the car before I decide we don’t need to go after all. You look delectable in that dress. I want to rip you out of it like a beautiful gift meant to be opened.”
My knees go a bit weak. Never has a man made me feel so attractive, so desirable. I let him lead me to the car, where he holds my hand during the entire drive. His fingers dance along mine, letting me know that, even though he’s driving, he’s still thinking of me.
I don the mask, checking in the mirror on the visor to ensure that my face is well hidden. If I didn’t know it was me, I’m not sure I’d recognize myself.
As he slows to pull up to the valet station, he says, “You’ve sure been quiet, Peaches. You aren’t upset with me about the mask, are you? It’s just that I was looking for one I thought would suit you. This was the only one pretty enough to deserve to be worn by such a lovely woman.”
My words swoon right along with my heart. I squeeze his fingers in lieu of an answer.
He draws my hand to his lips, kissing each of my knuckles in turn. “I’ll be around in a second.”
Jack exits the car, chats with the valet for a moment, and then opens my door. Flashing cameras, red carpet, and reporters behind a roped barrier. The entire walk is a blur of media and shouts for attention from my popular and very famous date.
“Who’s your guest?” someone from the throng calls.
Jackson’s hand covers the fingers I’ve got tucked into the crook of his elbow. “She’s my mystery partner for the evening.”
Whining exclamations follow his vague answer. Once at the end of the carpet, we’re swept into the ballroom along with a crowd of other people.
Glittering gowns rival the giant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling with too many crystal teardrops to count. A dance floor takes up a huge portion of the center of the room. Tables with fine linens and china dot the perimeter, and people fill in the gaps between fountains and ice sculptures.
Jack takes my gloved hand and twirls me in a circle. “Dance with me, beautiful lady?”
A giggle breaks through the awe at my surroundings. “Why, thank you, sir. I would love to.”
Jackson doesn’t let go of me for hours. At all times, his hand is on me. My waist. My hand. My shoulder. The small of my back. His touch warms and comforts. His gaze heats me to the tops of my gartered stockings.
The room is filled to capacity. I fan myself, but it does no good.
Jack leans close to my ear. “What’s wrong, Peaches?”
“Too many people. Not to mention my corset is too tight. Makes for a deadly combination.”
“C’mon. There’s a terrace and a garden, I think.” He pulls me along behind him as he makes our excuses across the ballroom to the doors leading outside.
As though we’ve stepped into an air-conditioned room, the cool air hits me, soothing and gentle. Jackson continues dragging me across the terrace, down the steps, and into the garden.
Once we round the hedgerow, he slows. “One problem fixed.”
“Yes, it’s much cooler out here. Amazing how many people showed up to one party.”
Jack pulls his phone out, turning on the flashlight app. “Let’s see what’s up there.”
He walks me up a slight knoll. At the top, under the low light of the moon, I can barely make out a shape below us.
“What’s down the hill?” I ask.
Jackson steps behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He whispers behind my ear. “A place for me to taste that pussy.”
My body responds to his words with an immediate thumping at my clit. “You naughty, naughty boy.”
He bites my earlobe. “You bet that beautiful ass I’m naughty. C’mon.”
With one hand in his and the other pulling up the front of my gown, I follow him down the hill at a jog. My tits bounce and jiggle. Suddenly, my left breast pops free of its confines. The laugh gurgles up from my chest.
When Jackson slows to a stop, he turns back to me. His phone spotlights the pebbled nipple enjoying the cool night air. He groans and pockets his cell.
“Now that’s what I call a wardrobe properly functioning.” He grabs me about the waist and yanks me to him. His mouth lands on my nipple as he sucks it in and laves loving attention on it with his hot tongue.
Music floats in the air, and laughing voices rise in the distance. But here, on this side of the small hill, we’re alone.
Jackson backs up, his mouth staying latched on to my bared tit as he pulls me to a short, bricked wall with vines growing over it. One of the things I love about southern California is that the greenery never ceases, even in the winter.