I break the kiss, murmuring, “And what happens next in the story?”

His green eyes are blazing, wild almost. But his voice is calm and confident as he holds my gaze. “The woman at the party wanted the duke to fuck her.”

I groan, my knees buckling as electricity skates wildly over my skin.

“She does want that,” I whisper. “I want that.”

He hisses in pleasure as I drag my fingers down his black pullover, exploring his firm chest through the fabric, then tiptoeing along the hard planes of his abs. I raise my fingers and run the backs of them over his chin. Holding his jaw in my right hand, I stare through the slits of his mask into those delicious green eyes. “You’re adorable, and I want you to fuck me.” I pause for effect. “In a fuck-me-senseless kind of way.”

He groans, and the sound seems to hum through him, rumbling up his chest, escaping his lips, which rise in a cocky, boyish grin. It’s like a wolf met a tiger cub and they spar for supremacy inside him.

“That’s exactly what I plan to do, Angel.”

He grabs my hands from his face and spins me around, raising my wrists above my head. The next thing I know, his long, lean frame is pressed against me, his chest to my back, his hard length pushing against the fabric covering my ass.

Ribbons flutter from my arms. My wings are spread. My dress is indeed giving me a whole new start.

Gently, he brushes loose strands of hair from my shoulder, exposing my neck. I tremble in anticipation, waiting, so eagerly. He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, and I shudder in its wake. One soft kiss there makes me weak and ravenous at the same time.

He kisses a trail to my earlobe, nibbling on it. My breath hitches as bursts of pleasure zip through me. There isn’t a part of my body, not a single molecule, not a solitary cell that doesn’t want whatever he’s going to give me.

He traces my neck with the tip of his tongue, and my murmurs turn into pleas. My body begs for him with an ache that vibrates from the very center of me.

I feel his hands move lower, down my sides, over my belly, along the front of my skirt, then under the hem. His fingers graze up my thighs, and a pulse beats between my legs.

“Masks on or off?”

I shake my head. “On. Leave them on. I like it like this.”

He kisses my earlobe once more, whispering, “As you wish.”

His fingers feather over my thighs, reaching the apex between them, traveling across my panties. It’s his turn to groan as he touches the wet lace that leaves nothing to the imagination. “You do like it, Angel.”

I nod on a ragged pant. “So much.”

His fingers dip under the fabric as he presses harder against my back, crowding me to the wall, caging me in. I tremble as he touches me for the first time.