Page 16 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Madison

I ’m deep in an abyss of ass and satin, fighting hallucinations.

Do you know how far gone you have to be to fantasize about your ex at a sex club instead of the man in front of you who’s ready to lick you from crack to crease?

I couldn’t control the gasp that escaped when I envisioned my billionaire former lover underneath the intricate minotaur mask.

Even with feathers covering most of his features, he looked familiar.

I froze under his observant gaze, which seemed to last an eternity, one I lived in another life.

The black-clad figure staring down in silence prickled my skin and forced me to contend with the broad length of his chest and shoulders.

I never summoned Preston here, but that didn’t stop him from stalking my thoughts and haunting my desires.

If I can’t escape him, Mr. Tall, Fit, and Fine will have to do.

The masked stranger pulls me with a protective hand. The muscles rippling under his cloak rattle my thighs as I move to keep up with his long stride. These damn stilettos are no match for his Viking legs.

We weave through small groups frozen in place by the scenes before them.

My jaw hasn’t come off the floor, and neither will the woman in a makeshift doll box.

She’s strapped to a sex swing wearing nothing but heels and nipple clamps.

A cloaked figure stands between her legs at shoulder height, swabbing her insides with a vibrator.

The box has to be soundproof, the way her head tips back and her chest heaves.

The ecstasy coating the air is intoxicating. I’ve never seen anything like Ravenous, and I question where my curiosities would take me if I released my inhibitions.

Public sex is somewhere on my bucket list, tucked away from judgment. I don’t have the guts to do anything completely obvious, but it’s an itch I’d like to scratch.

Light shifts from red to soft gold against black walls. I make a mental note to ask one of the people wearing a monitor band for the time. Ravenous has a no-phones policy, and Kojo and I promised to meet back at the bar by one a.m.

We walked the entire floor together before he kissed my forehead and disappeared into a private room with a woman and a man. I didn’t expect to do anything but watch strangers tonight, but life had different plans.

My company for the night stops in front of a door down the end of another hall. We’re alone, the edges of the jazz band a faint melody. I should feel nervous, cautious about walking off with a complete stranger, but I’m not, and I don’t know why. He’s an unknown force but strangely…familiar.

He types a code into a keypad to deactivate the lock. I gasp for the second time tonight once we cross the threshold.

Candles light the room like fireflies. A pianist strokes the keys of a grand piano next to oversized windows draped in dark velvet. The silhouette of the masked musician dances across flames reflected on oak floors.

It’s a spacious suite with a large ottoman across from the musician conjuring a dark tune. Vases of pink peonies surround a seating area with two Chesterfield sofas and a coffee table. They’re my favorite flower. I received them weekly in Paris from—

My eyes flutter shut at the kiss on the back of my neck. A breath fans across my skin to raise every hair. Soft lips move to my collarbone as my loose waves are swept across my shoulder.

Every press of his mouth sings through my veins. I settle back to enjoy the feel of the hard body against me. He sways us to the music and lowers his head for a deep inhale of my neck. He’s yet to speak, but the deep moan that ripples through his throat tempts my knees to buckle.

Gentle fingers free the ties of my cloak. The breath he exhales is slow at my sequin dress, which outlines my curves and kisses the tops of my thighs. I might be on a break from dating, but one thing I’m not shy about is my body. I’m not just a snack; I’m the entire menu.

I didn’t know what to expect walking into a private room with a stranger, but a pianist, a crackling fire, and my favorite flowers were not it. The gesture is intimate. Intentional.

I reach for his mask to prove my mind isn’t playing tricks on me with these reminders of Preston.

He hisses and steps back. His headshake is firm, but his kiss on the back of my hand is soft.

Eager lips part, and his tongue licks the pulse point in my wrist. That’s all it takes for the dam to break and our mouths to collide.

I compare every man to Preston, even Terrence. Blame it on my delusions, my imagination, or my denial. But there is no doubt he has a twin walking the earth. He’s right here in front of me, forcing reality to bow to my memories of this same touch in Paris.

“Preston,” I pant between breaths.

He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and glides his tongue across the surface. His hands cradle my face, and I’m seconds from levitating from the high. The way he kisses is hungry, like he’s been waiting for me all night.

I slide my hands under the straps of my dress and revel in his erratic breath. The tease of my nipples between my fingers is his summons.

“Touch me,” I say at his hesitation, my consent a whisper through a dark tune.

The breath is knocked out of my lungs at how fast he pulls me to his chest and lifts me off the ground. The erection tenting his cloak is aggressive as he leans forward to suck a bud into his mouth.

He massages my breast with his tongue, gliding it across my areola in a wet trail.

I shudder at the graze of his teeth and surrender to the suction as he laps at my hard peak.

The cool air of the room mixed with his warm breath has me crawling up the slab of muscle that is his body. His grip tightens to keep me still.

Only one man has ever made me come through nipple stimulation. Preston might as well be here, the way I’m chanting his name.

My head thrashes from side to side, my knees quivering. I roll my hips at the orgasm charging up my body and scream loud enough to incite a wellness check.

Aftershocks ripple through me in waves. It’s then I remember we’re not alone. My eyes widen at the pianist, who’s still playing like I didn’t just hump this caped crusader who had my titty in his mouth. Lust overrode my senses and any fucks I might have given about someone else in the room.

The man—whose name I still don’t know—sets me on my feet and picks up my dress.

“No. Please,” I say at his attempt to secure it in place.

His stare shifts from me to the source of the music over my shoulder. His eyes are full of affection when they return to me, and it makes mine well with tears. It’s been years since anyone displayed this much care for my needs—fifteen, to be exact. I miss it, and I don’t want it to end.

I peek over at the pianist. His eyes are on me, his fingers rolling over the keys with ease. Knowing someone is watching vibrates my body with arousal. I’ve fantasized about it but never acted on it.

The lace of my Venetian mask burns my skin. I’m a stranger here, with the freedom of anonymity to explore limits I’d never try outside of Ravenous’s walls. Curiosity shifts to confidence when I face the man whose arms I’m still in. He’s waiting patiently.

“Taste me while he watches.”

The masked man’s stare is so intense I swallow and look away.

He draws me back with a thumb under my chin and kisses me with a softness that makes me melt.

Our dance is a slow glide to the ottoman across from the piano.

I lie down, and he drops to his knees between legs I spread to welcome his size.

With his focus on me, he removes his cloak, folds it, and puts it under my head. A hand trails up my left leg. He kisses my ankle below the strap of my heel and guides his thumbs up my thighs. His ragged breath on my bare pussy inches from his face excites my back to arch.

I close my eyes at his inhale and jump at the first swipe of his tongue. Open-mouthed kisses up my lips become sweeping strokes with a flick to my clit.

“Oh my—” I choke on a moan when he takes my swollen pearl into his mouth. My body arches off the ottoman like I’ve been possessed.

His tongue is relentless, diving deeper into my heat. I match his tempo and submit to the explosive pleasure surging between us. Preston’s body double is completely lost in the moment, eyes closed and mouth anchored between my legs.

I steal a glance at the pianist, who’s staring down at me. The flames in his eyes sear a pathway from my parted lips down to my bouncing breasts.

Movement near the door summons me to a woman in all black.

The sheer material of her sleeveless dress teases her voluptuous breasts and the neatly trimmed mound between her thighs.

She’s not wearing a cloak, but she does have a mask that covers her eyes.

It’s not until her hands fold over her chest and a hip juts out that it clicks.

It’s Bellamy.

Her glare closes the distance, her focus shifting from me to the man between my legs before it settles back on its target. Me.

Is she mad?

What is she doing here?

Every question torpedoes from my body as the two fingers inside me curl into my G-spot.

I buck forward and lock eyes with the minotaur who’s pumping into me while my essence coats his chin.

His eyes flash, and I cry out, lifting onto my elbows, unable to give a damn who sees me gyrating against his face.

“I’m coming.” My legs vibrate, and my jaw goes slack as tears cloud my vision.

With a final swipe and an ungodly slurp, I scream. My breasts crush against the hardness of his chest when he pulls me to him. Each breath lacks control but settles when he kisses my face.

I suck on the tongue he offers, tasting my mess. We’re so caught up in each other, we don’t notice we’re alone in the room.