Chapter 9: A Generous Tip
A faint smile tugged at the corner of the masked man’s mouth. Without a word, he gently took her purse and phone from her hands and placed them on the nearby table.
Then, his large hand moved to the front of her gown. Through the smooth fabric, his thumb and forefinger captured one of her tensed nipples, pinching it just firmly enough to make her gasp before rolling it between his fingers.
A sharp gasp escaped Roxanne instantly, and goosebumps erupted across her skin. Her lips parted, a soft, helpless sound escaping her throat. Before she could recover, he hooked his fingers into the strap of her dress and dragged it slowly down her shoulder.
Roxanne’s pulse hammered wildly in her ears as her breast slipped free beneath the dim lighting.
Before she could catch her breath, he leaned down, the warmth of his tongue sending a violent shiver through her body as he closed his mouth over her sensitive nipple gently, sucking it in deeply while his teeth grazed it. Simultaneously, his free hand kneaded her other breast slowly, expertly, until her knees nearly weakened beneath her.
Roxanne gasped, her head falling back as a sharp, agonizing throb of desire pulsed low in her belly, a sudden rush of slick, warm liquid dripping between her thighs. "I want you," she breathed, her fingers frantically clutching at the broad fabric of his shoulders. "God, I want you so much."
"Good," he muttered, his voice dropping into a hoarse register thick with desire as he buried his face in the valley of her breasts, kissing and teasing until Roxanne’s breathing turned ragged.
Without thinking, she lifted one leg slightly, deliberately pressing her thigh against the rigid, unyielding length of his erection straining against his trousers. The sensation made her ache deepen immediately.
Reaching down with a trembling hand, her fingers found his zipper, lowering it to slide her palm inside. The moment her fingers wrapped around his massive, throbbing shaft, stroking the hot length of him, a low groan vibrated from his chest in response.
In one seamless movement, he scooped her up into his arms. Roxanne gasped softly as he carried her toward a nearby chair, her pulse racing wildly now. He settled her back against the cushions and parted her legs, pinning her thighs wide as he dropped to his knees between them.
Roxanne’s breathing became uneven as he kissed along the inside of her thigh. Before his mouth found her swollen pussy, his tongue sliding over her slick flesh with a devastating precision that made her back arch completely off the sofa.
He licked her with a wicked rhythm, and damn, he was devastatingly good at it. Her fingers tangled frantically into his dark hair, her hips moving uncontrollably against his mouth as waves of pleasure and need crashed through her faster and faster.
She was right on the precipice, drowning in the intoxicating heat of him, when a sharp, rhythmic buzz shattered the quiet room. On the glass table just inches away, her phone screen suddenly flared to life, illuminating the dark.
Roxanne’s eyes instinctively snapped toward the light and Christian’s smiling face lit up the digital display, his name flashing mockingly in the dark.
She threw her head back against the cushions, a spike of adrenaline piercing through the heavy fog of her desire. The corporate dinner. Oh, shit.
The panic of the realization should have killed the mood instantly, but she was already too close, her body vibrating right on the absolute edge of a shattering release.
Her gaze locked onto the glowing image of her husband’s face. Instead of pulling away, she deliberately anchored her hands in the stranger’s hair, pinning his mouth against her pussy as her hips began to roll in a faster, more desperate rhythm.
Christian’s cruel morning insults began to chant in her mind, keeping pace with the torturous friction between her thighs.
There are no rules. No man will actually want to go there. The toxic words echoed continuously in her head, fueling a sudden, wicked surge of defiance that pushed her over the edge.
Her toes curled violently into the leather cushions. Her entire body jerked, stiffening into a rigid line as a massive, blinding wave of pleasure detonated between her legs, far more intense than anything she had ever felt with her husband. She let out a fractured cry.
But the moment the peak subsided, her survival instincts slammed back into place. Her chest was still heaving violently, her skin slick with sweat, when she abruptly pushed the stranger away, refusing to let herself relish the cum.
Frantic, she scrambled off the love seat, her hands trembling as she yanked her gown back into place and snatched her purse from the table.
"I’m sorry," she said quickly, brushing a hand through her hair as she reached for her purse. "I really have to go. But I’ll be back. Another time." The promise slipped out before she could stop herself.
Without thinking, she reached into her purse, pulled out several crisp bills, and dropped them onto the table. The green paper fluttered against the glass. "Sorry," she choked out, already pivoting on her heel to flee toward the exit.
Behind her, a low, rumbling chuckle echoed from the shadows. The masked man slowly leaned back against the cushions, a deeply amused smile curving his lips as he glanced down at the scattered cash.
"A tip for me?" he murmured, his baritone dripping with dark irony. "That is a first."
Roxanne paused at the doorway, her hand gripping the brass handle as she glanced back over her shoulder.
The stranger rose smoothly to his feet, his dark eyes locking onto hers through the cutouts of his mask. "But trust me," he purred, his voice sending a parting shiver straight down her spine, "this isn’t nearly enough."
She swallowed and then turned away, the door closing.
—
An hour later.
Roxanne descended the grand staircase, one hand lightly grazing the polished banister. The emerald-green silk dress hugged her figure elegantly, with a sophisticated high neckline contrasted by a devastatingly deep, open back that exposed her smooth skin down to her waist.
The slit climbed high along one thigh, exposing flashes of toned leg with every step. Her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, and the diamonds at her ears and wrists caught the light, scattering tiny sparks across the room.
At the foot of the stairs, Christian waited. He cast a brief glance up at her, his eyes lingering on her for a fraction of a second before he indifferently checked his watch and turned away. "Took you long enough," he grumbled, already pivoting toward the penthouse exit without waiting for her.
Roxanne simply smiled to herself. She hadn’t expected a compliment, and frankly, she no longer needed one. His validation was worthless now.
Within twenty minutes, their sleek town car pulled up to the grand entrance of the venue. The moment they stepped through the heavy glass doors into the bustling, cavernous ballroom, Roxanne’s heart began to hammer violently against her ribs.
The clinking of champagne flutes, the low hum of upper-class chatter, and the blinding flash of event photographers all blurred together as vivid memories of what she had been doing barely an hour ago flashed behind her eyelids.
She could still feel the phantom warmth of the stranger’s mouth on her skin.
Christian immediately plunged into the crowd, wearing his practiced, charming smile as he shook hands and exchanged hollow pleasantries. Roxanne fell back into her routine, standing a half-step behind him like a beautiful, silent prop, scanning the room until she was required to perform.
Then her phone buzzed inside her clutch, the sound nearly made her jump. Frowning, she pulled it out. Her gaze dropped to the screen, and instantly, every drop of blood drained from her face.
You look even more beautiful in that green silk than you did in the black satin. ~ Stranger.
Roxanne’s heart slammed against her ribs as dread spiked through her veins. Her head snapped upward, her wide, panicked eyes scanning the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns. She read the glowing text a second time, her mind reeling in utter disbelief.
"He’s here?" she murmured, the words tasting like copper in her dry mouth. "Oh, no. God, no."
