His hands drift over the skin of my shoulders. I'm not entirely sure how or when, but somehow he has maneuvered us away from the dance flow, the ebb and flow of the music now distant as we hide secluded in one of the many rooms off of the ballroom. This one is decadent and library-like, a large fireplace at one end, wall to ceiling cases of antique books, a leather couch in front of the fireplace.

"It had to be a library." My murmur is almost involuntary as his lips caress my throat, his hands slipping over the blue floaty gossamer of my dress, caressing my curves as he finds the tie at my waist which holds it all together.

"I know you already, Miss Carr." His whisper is dark and tempting and yet I am confused by his confidence unless… But it can't be. "Just relax."

I breathe in sharply as his hands push away the fabric from my shoulders and I feel it pool around my feet, the chill of the air and the heat of the situation causing bumps to rise on my skin and a shudder to run over my spine. His fingers flicker up my back and to the comb in my hair, unleashing the wild waves of red which tumble down my back. He breathes deeply and his hands slip over my hips, pulling me sharply backwards into his strong firm body, the body which, not ten minutes ago, was powerfully guiding me through the steps of a tango I didn't know I could dance. "Beautiful." His hands slip upward, cupping my petite breasts in large hands.

"I- I don't- Who are you?"

"Isn't the purpose of the masks so that we are anonymous?" His murmur appears purposefully tongue in cheek and I find myself almost laughing even as his fingers dip between my thighs, brushing over the lace of my panties. I moan, leaning heavily into him. "You're wet, Sasha. You're very wet." his teeth graze over my ear as he speaks, the stubble of his cheek brushing the edge of my jaw.

"I'm afraid I'm at a disadvantage, Sir, for I do not know who you are," I murmur, though the humour is lost as his fingers work beneath the silk and into my slick core, making me gasp.

"You'll know in time, just let yourself go just now." I find myself doing as I am told, getting lost in the haze of lust he has awakened in me just through his touch. I feel my hips arching into his palm as his fingers work me, making me pant, causing my legs to shake. I lean forward, grasping the arm of the couch as I begin to lose control and then he pushes me forwards, over the arm, pulling my panties down my legs. The first hungry lash of his tongue is almost enough to take me unawares. I cry out, biting my lip, the sting bringing me back from the edge as his hands dig into my hips. My knees wobble, placing more of my weight on the arm of the chair.

"Oh God." It's all I can summon as the edges of my vision blurs and I begin to feel my hips roll and flex, my core tightening and throbbing as he demonstrates his exquisite skills over my body, his tongue taking me to highs I didn't know existed. "Oh please."

"What to you want, Sasha?" his voice is rough, his fingers, once again working over me. I feel my abdomen tighten.
"I- I'm so close, I want to cum, please." He kisses my thighs, his fingers working faster now. I squeeze my eyes closed, zoning in on the pleasure.

"You needn't ask permission, Sasha." His lips sealing over the sensitive, tight pearl seals my fate as I crash head-on into the waves of pleasure which almost overwhelm me, my nails digging into the leather of the couch, my toes curling into my shoes.

By the time I come back around I find myself on the couch, facing the ceiling, unsure of when he moved me, but glad he did, my legs now too spent to hold me upright. Looking around, however, I find myself alone. Strange pain, perhaps disappointment, ripples through my chest as I stare at the ceiling above me. I have no idea what that was or who that was… I'm not sure whether accepting the mysterious invitation to the Prince's Masked Ball was a good idea or not now.