Page 5 of Flames

“Not too much, baby girl,” he says as I bring the glass to my lips and take another sip of the bubbles. “I want you completely with me later when I have you riding my cock.”

A few people around us hear his brash words and spare us questioning glances. My cheeks flush but I try to ignore the stares and looks while we walk together through the crowded party.

“Yes, Daddy,” I tell him as I deposit my half full glass on a tray passing by us. “Why don’t I go freshen up and let you mingle with your guests?”

He gives me a predatory grin, grabbing my ass again, and leaning in to whisper in my ear. “You better have worn the undergarments provided for you with this costume.”

My face contorts with confusion for a moment. “There wasn’t any underwear in the box.”

“Exactly,” he replies, slapping my ass and shoving me off towards the restrooms as he not so discreetly adjusts himself through his slacks.

What a freaking line dude.

I suppress my eye roll, instead opting for a sweet smile as I head off towards the restrooms.

Alexander Yovik’s home is beyond opulent. I knew when I did my recon that the man was wealthy. No—not wealthy, disgustingly rich. But this house is over the top in every regard. There are pillars topped with gold filigree around the perimeter of the giant ballroom we’re currently inside of for the party. The marble floors are shimmering white, so polished that they reflect the soft gold glow of the lighting from the multiple crystal chandeliers above. Men in black suits with ear pieces are discretely positioned around the room for security. I slip past them, swaying slightly and giggling as if I am a tipsy party patron.

I’m so wrapped up in slipping past the guards that I don’t notice the six-foot-something wall of muscle standing right in front of me until it’s too late. I crash into him full speed, swaying backwards slightly on my ridiculous heels. My arms windmill outwards as I try to steady myself.

“Got you,” the man says as he wraps his arms around me.

I stare up into the face of the man I’m currently clinging to like a fool and my stomach twists. He is absolutely the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. Dark hair is slicked back exposing a square, chiseled face with high cheekbones. The center of his chin is creased slightly and I want to run my finger over the small divot. He’s taller than me and clothed in all black, which is doing nothing to hide his muscular form. But it’s his eyes that are truly hypnotic—warm brown irises rimmed with a stunning golden ring that makes it look as though flames are flickering in his gaze. The mask he wears is made of golden feathers, not too dissimilar to the ones adorning my dress. He smiles down at me and a dimple creases his cheek.

Damn, I’m a sucker for a man with dimples.

“You alright?” he asks. His voice is like a nice Scotch—smooth and smoky and delicious.

My panties would be drenched… if I was wearing any.

He moves me effortlessly to a standing position while I attempt to regain my composure. I’ve been around my fair share of attractive men, usually they’re too cocky to know how to use their cock, but this man exudes big dick energy for sure. The urge to climb him like a tree and see if my theory is accurate is strong.

Down girl, we have a job to do.

“I’m fine,” I admit. My voice comes out breathy and hardly the confident droll which I usually use on men.

What the hell is this man doing to me?

“Well, it must be my lucky day,” he says as he swings me upward onto my feet. I cling tightly to the front of his button down. “No one to dance with and a beautiful woman literally lands right in my hands.”

Okay, the line is a bit cheesy. But when he says it with that smirk… that dimple; yeah, I’m damn near swooning.

“Is that your way of asking me to dance?” I ask, regaining some of my composure.

“Would you say yes if I did?” He cocks a dark eyebrow at me as he asks, slipping his hand in mine and gliding us effortlessly towards the dance floor.

“I was on my way to something,” I hesitate for a moment, but as his other hand slides slowly down my spine, I cave. “But, I suppose I could spare a few moments for a dance.”

A genuine smile overtakes his face and, damn this man, he’s even more handsome when he smiles. Dark ink peeks out from beneath his clothing, a hint of a tattoo. I want to see more. He whisks me around, sending the glittering thread of my dress spinning, catching the low light as we turn.

“I’m Phoenix,” he whispers in my ear, pulling my body tightly against his muscular frame.

I’m no petite little flower of a gal but this guy makes me feel small. He must be at least six-four.

“Marisa,” I respond, realizing too late that I gave him my real name.

I never give men my real name.

“Marisa,” he repeats, my name dripping from his lips like honey as he spins me round and round. Other couples gracefully glide across the floor as well but I barely see them, barely even notice they’re there; I’m too consumed with my mysterious masked man. “What has brought you here tonight, Marisa?”