Jackson’s eyes grow serious as he steps to me. His hand snakes around my waist. “Will you do? Are you kidding? You’re absolutely stunning.”
He draws me near, his mouth crashing into mine. He nips my bottom lip and trails heated kisses down my neck to the cleavage so precariously contained in the corset I almost didn’t get hooked. His tongue slides between my tits, sending more dampness to my core. He moves back to my mouth.
He pulls me so close that my feet leave the ground, and I grasp at his broad shoulders. After walking us into the house, Jack slams the door. Immediately, he turns us so he can back me against it as he finds the wild pulse in my neck. He grunts as his tongue makes circles over the tops of my breasts.
A throb beats at my pussy as my fingers find his zipper.
He pulls back, his chest heaving, matching my own. He licks his lips, the spark in his eye now a roaring flame. “We stop now, or we don’t stop at all. If we don’t, then we skip this party. I’d be happy to ring in the New Year right here, driving my cock into your hot cunt. Your choice.”
“Hmm. Decisions, decisions.”
This dress cost me a mint, even if it does seem rather lacking in comparison to Jack’s designer tuxedo. “Ball, then back to your place for sex?”
He grabs me by the waist and yanks me into his arms, his mouth coming down on mine for a quick kiss. “You got it. That is, if I can wait long enough to get back to my place.”
His cock presses into my belly, even through all the layers of my gown. “You get your coat. I’ll be right back. I forgot something in the car.”
I grab my cloak from my bed and meet Jack in the entryway. “All right, I’m ready.”
He pulls his hands from behind his back.
Oh. Wow.
My fingers go to my lips as I take a step forward. “That’s not what I thought you had in mind.”
He holds out the incredible mask, made from black lace and encrusted with gemstones along the bottom edge, the lacy edges at the top tapering over the forehead. Along one side, black and white feathers fan from the corner, dipping so they will likely cover a portion of the wearer’s cheek.
He pushes it into my hands, but I pull them back.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”
“Oh, no. It’s beautiful. More than beautiful. But it looks super expensive. When I agreed you could buy the mask, I thought it would be a simple thing, cheap, not really a big deal. This is a big deal.”
He gives an exaggerated eye roll. “It didn’t cost much at all. Just take it. We don’t have time to go shopping for something else. You have to wear the mask, or your identity will be spread all over every gossip rag by the end of the next printing—thus ending the bet and your book sales.”
Book sales. He’s got me on that one.
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.