Page 8 of The Masked King

“I… it’s not the kind of⁠—”

“You don’t answer, you go.” One of the men points to the door.

My thoughts are spiraling. It’s hard to think of something wild on the spot, even more difficult with an audience, but I wanted this job. I agreed to it before I even knew what it entailed, and I’m fucked if I’m giving up because I can’t think of something erotic to tell them.

Come on, Demi. Think… Think about Enzo…

He did things to me that no one else had ever done. We fucked on the rooftop, in the pool, in the shower, in Central Park, on the beach in Sicily, in the sea too. He made me come with his tongue in the back row of a cinema while we were surrounded by people.

Once the memories come, they don’t stop. My pulse races. My panties are already saturated, and my breathing is shallow.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m not doing this for these strangers, I remind myself. I’m doing this because I’m good at my job.

Enzo. His face buried between my legs with that glint in his eye as he watches me.

I smile behind the mask. I can feel him, can feel his tongue inside me, dragging flat across my clit, and I spread my legs a little wider.

A muffled groan reaches my covered ears, and I realize with a jolt that it came from me. Enzo is going to make me come, and he isn’t even here.

This is what I want though, right?

Or maybe this is what they want.

Only one way to find out.

“My wildest fantasy…” I pause, choosing my words carefully, “…is having an orgasm in a room filled with strangers when you don’t know what I’m thinking.” I don’t sound like me; my voice is hollow, distorted.

“Are you having an orgasm right now?”

“I’m close.” My breathing is shallow, so hopefully that’s proof enough.

“Do it.” It’s an order.

I swallow hard, spread my legs wide on the couch, and put myself back in the cinema, my panties pulled aside, and Enzo’s head underneath my dress. His tongue is on my clit. The thrill of being seen means I’m already throbbing, my entire body tingling as he licks and sucks and slides a finger inside me. I don’t know what’s happening on the screen. Every part of me is focused on the sensation between my legs, and my clit spasming in his mouth.

On the couch, I shift my hips, rubbing my clit against the seam of my pants, and imagine Enzo gripping my thighs, my clit soft and swollen, my nipples hard, while these men in their black suits watch me come.

I rest my head back against the cushion and pull my knees up to my chest, rocking my hips back and forth. “So close…” I murmur.

My breathing is ragged. In my mind, Enzo slides three fingers inside me and finds the spot while his tongue flicks back and forth across my clit.

And my orgasm explodes, my body spasming on the couch and curling up on itself while my mind spirals around visions of Enzo and his arms around me, holding me close while I come back down to Earth.

Strong fingers unfasten the mask, exposing me to the room.

My face is sweaty from the leather, my cheeks on fire from the orgasm.

“You will be known as Nyx,” the man beside me says. “Your real name no longer exists. JADED has one rule: no one is allowed to touch.

3

ENZO

A dull sound jolts me awake.

I’m on the couch in the living room of my penthouse apartment, an empty brandy glass still in my hand, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth when I try to swallow. The world outside is dark, the sky reflecting the glow of the myriad of city lights below. There are no lights on inside, just the shimmering blue glow of the TV home screen.

Reaching for the gun in my pants pocket, I slide my eyes towards the private elevator. The door is open. But I can’t see anyone.