Title: The Masquerade: Room 2
Series: Club V
Author: Eva Haining
Genre: BDSM; Daddy Kink; Kink Club; He Falls First; Dom/sub; Grumpy/sunshine; Toy Play
Release Date: August 29, 2024
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They met under the guise of a masquerade—their faces hidden—and yet they felt seen for the very first time.
Eager to learn more about her darkest desires, Freya throws caution to the wind, attending Club Venom’s masquerade ball with her best friend, never anticipating how her life would change. She’s always known there’s something different about her, but she’s never given in to her wildest fantasies… until now.
“Where to begin… patience or punishment?”
Pierce Harrison doesn’t believe in forever. He’s a world-renowned surgeon, clinical in all aspects of his life. Relationships are temporary, and he makes sure emotions are left at the door. What happens at Venom, stays at Venom.With a dark past that both haunts and drives his success in everything he does, Pierce finds his world tilted on its axis the night he meets a masked beauty who ensures his heart will be irrevocably altered.
With nothing to lose and everything to gain, Pierce and Freya must fight their inner demons, forging a path neither of them knew they wanted, but both of them crave.
My body heats under his gaze. Even from this distance, I can tell his focus is on me alone. My breath is shallow as I stand frozen to the spot, entranced as he casually makes his way through the crowd with a confident gait to his stride, his eyes never leaving mine.
Celest is talking to me, but I don’t pay enough attention to answer, transfixed by the man walking toward me. When he comes to a stop, he’s a foot away from me, and it feels like too little and too much all at once. We stand for what feels like the longest time, his emerald gaze fixed on mine. His lips are sensuous, his jaw peppered with stubble, and I’m flooded by the thought of how it would feel against my skin.
“Hello.” His voice is a low rumble, gravelly and dripping with sex. The scent of his cologne invades my senses, and my mouth goes dry.
“Hi.”
“Would you like to dance?” Holding out his hand to me, I shove my drink and purse at Celest without breaking eye contact with my mysterious suitor.
I don’t speak. I can’t.
Instead, I slip my hand into his, letting him lead me to the dance floor, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling my body flush with his. Every nerve ending in my body sparks to life, the rapid rise and fall of my chest giving me away as we begin to sway to the music. Electricity courses through every fiber of my being, and I feel alive in a way I never have before.
He doesn’t speak, and his eyes remain fixed on me as if I’m the only person in the room. My body is on fire where his hand holds tight on my waist as I gaze up into his eyes. I could get lost in their depths, everything else fading away as I let him lead me around the floor.
The music is ethereal, as enchanting as my dance partner. One song bleeds into the next and the next, and still, we don’t exchange words. He spins me with ease, clearly an adept dancer. It makes me wonder if he does this often, sweeping women off their feet without more than a simple hello, and yet I find I don’t much care. Tonight, I’m the woman in his arms, and suddenly, the night is full of possibilities. The unsettling nerves I felt when I walked through the door give way to a different kind of nervous energy.
My body reacts to this man—a masked stranger—in ways it never has before. As the song finishes, his hand shifts from my waist, sliding up my side, across my shoulder, and into my hair as he leans in, his gaze flitting from my eyes to my lips and back again. A silent question. A plea for permission which I freely give with a slight nod.
His lips brush mine, sending a shiver down my spine, my nipples hardening as his tongue darts out to lick the seam, asking for entrance. He tastes like scotch and a hint of mint, his stroke firm and slow as our tongues tangle in a sensual dance. His hand fists in my hair, holding me firm as he deepens our kiss. When he pulls back, I’m left panting, my senses in overdrive as he presses his lips to mine once more before he speaks.
“Come with me.” It’s not a question. It is a command, and it makes my body sing with anticipation. He releases my hair, his hand caressing down my spine until it reaches the small of my back. It’s almost territorial, sending a jolt of desire straight to my core.
He navigates the crowd easily, finding his way back to the edge of the voyeur hallway where I first caught him watching me. Opening one of the many doors, he guides me inside before locking it behind us.
“Do you want the window left open to whoever may be on the other side, little one?”
“I…” I can barely catch my breath. Am I really going to do this with a perfect stranger?
“Don’t be afraid. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it so.”
My heart is hammering so hard in my chest, my pulse whooshing in my ears as his eyes rake the length of me.
“Open,” I whisper, my voice unrecognizable.
He runs his fingertips down my arms, goose bumps spreading across my skin, my head swimming as his lips find mine once more.
His touch is tender yet fierce, but as his hands move into my hair to release my mask, I panic.
“Leave it on,” I beg.
He pulls back, leaving me bereft. “I won’t do anything you don’t want, little one. You can keep it on if you so wish.”
“Yes, please.”
“Do you want me to keep mine on, or do you want to see my face as I bury it between your thighs?” Holy Mother of God.
“Keep it on,” I choke past my nerves, desperate for more of his touch.
“Then you will call me Sir. Understood?”
“Yes.”
He leans in, his lips caressing the shell of my ear. “That’s your first mistake, little one. I think you meant to say yes, Sir.” My heartbeat goes wild.
“Yes, Sir,” I pant in a breathy whisper.
“Good girl.” His fingers trail down my arm until they interlace with mine, and he leads me to a bed in the center of the room. “Sit on the edge.”
I do as I’m told, my eyes glancing at the blacked-out window on the wall. A two-way mirror?
“Last chance to close the curtains.” He drops to his knees in front of me. “Tell me what you want.”
“Leave them open… Sir.”
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