He thrusts himself hard again and as if I'd been waiting for his approval, my orgasm tears through me like a searing, powerful bolt of lightning. My body shakes so hard, I feel like I'm having a seizure. I open my mouth, but if I had any thought of screaming out, it dies quickly. The only sound that comes from me is a gasping, gurgling noise that barely sounds human.
I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth, letting waves of sheer ecstasy wash over me. I've never felt such intense pleasure before. The man thrusts his cock into me deeply once more and I feel his body tense. His cock begins to throb, and I hear him grunt as he fills the condom with his hot seed.
Pushing back against him, the man gripping me tightly, our bodies crush together as we ride out the waves of ecstasy.,
I draw in a shuddering breath and slowly release it as my orgasm begins to fade. He steps back, his deflating member slipping out of me. I feel a twinge of regret at the sudden absence of his cock and the dwindling feeling of pleasure in my body.
I stand and pull my panties back up, turning back around to face him. He tosses the spent condom into one of the tall shrubs near the gazebo. Giving me a small smile, the man tucks in his shirt and zips up his pants, his mask still perfectly in place. I would give anything to take a peek beneath it. To see the man who unlocked such a dark, sensual part of me that I didn't even know existed.
I reach a trembling hand out to peel away his mask, but he catches me by the wrist, that charismatic smile back upon his lips.
“Some things are better left a mystery,” he purrs. “Don't you think?”
“I want to see you,” I say. “We just had sex, I think I'm entitled.”
“Oh, I wasn't aware there was an entry fee for the ride,” he says, a chuckle in his voice.
“You son of a bitch,” I say, feeling my cheeks flaring and anger rising within me.
His eyes glitter behind his mask and there is a bemused grin on his face. He stands there staring at me for a long moment and I ball my fists at my sides and resist the urge to smack him. I don't know why I feel so angry all the sudden - so used. I wanted this and allowed it to happen. He'd promised me nothing and I still gave my body freely. I don't regret it at all. It was my choice.
I just want more. More of him. More of that.
“Did you enjoy yourself, Bree?”
“I think that much was obvious.”
“Then why are you so angry?”
I bite back my words because I know how childish and petty they'll sound. And for reasons I don't quite understand, I don't want to sound that way in front of this man. For whatever reason, I want him to think I'm mature, self-realized, and sophisticated. Not some silly little girl who, having just experienced mind-blowing, world-shattering sex for the first time, is going to be clingy or needy.
“I'm not angry,” I say evenly. “I usually prefer to know who it is I'm fucking.”
He shrugs. “You could have demanded it before we started.”
“And would you have?” I asked. “Removed the mask?”
He shrugs again. “I suppose we'll never know.”
The truth was, the fact that we were both masked had made things a little more intense. A little more powerful. It played into the whole fantasy about finding a complete stranger, fucking them, and leaving. Except, this man obviously has the advantage of knowing who I am, which diminishes the fantasy – but only a little.
“What if I want to see you again?” I ask. “What if I want to do this again?”
The enigmatic smile returns. “Then, maybe we will.”
“How will I get in touch with you?”
Without a word, he slips his phone out of his pocket and punches in a few buttons. He hands it over to me and I look down. It's his contacts list. And he wants me to add my number to it. I punch in my number and hand his phone back to him. He tucks it away in his pocket once more.
“Perhaps, I'll call you, Bree.”
“Perhaps?”
He shrugs. “Perhaps.”
It's then that I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice – he will call on me again. I know that he enjoyed our time together as much as I did. And I know that he wants more, every bit as much as I do. I can see it. Sense it. I can practically smell it on him.
“For now, though,” he says. “I want to thank you for a lovely evening. It's one I won't forget anytime soon.”
It's one I probably won't be able to forget – ever. I have no doubt that it's going to live on in my memory as the most intense and erotic night of my life. And I'm already sure that I'll forever be comparing future sexual experiences to this one night – and likely finding that they don't measure up.
He turns, and I watch him walk back toward the house. My legs still a little weak and shaky, I sit down on the bench and let the warmth of such an incredible experience wash over me once more. I revel in the memory and feel the longing for more already burning within me.
“Damn you,” I whisper. “God damn you.”
And damn me for letting it happen.
Chapter Two
Milo
Later That Night
“Girls, out,” I call as I step through the door.
Kicking it shut behind me, I drop the twelve pack of beer on the counter in the kitchen. In the various bedrooms beyond the counter, I can hear my three younger brothers, Zachary, Dalton, and Quentin – Q for short – with their flavors of the night.
That's the problem with a small town like Folson Forge – everyone knows everyone, and it can feel incestuous, really quick.
Oh, they're all gorgeous. They're all beautiful Southern belles. But some of the girls in this town think that they are special and deserve the finer things in life. They seem to think that if they go down the line and fuck each one of us, it will eventually stick, and they’ll become part of the Sheridan clan – wealthier than their wildest dreams and set for life.
What they don't seem to understand, however, is that to us, this is purely sex. Period.
The women we'll eventually marry would never dream of throwing themselves at men as desperately as these women.
“I repeat, get out,” I call again.
“Fuck off, Milo,” one of the girls calls back to me through the wall.
There's a bubbling noise from one of the bedrooms to the right that makes me laugh and shake my head. As usual, none of the doors to the rooms are fully closed, allowing me to see what’s going on inside. Zach is reclining on the futon, a thick cloud of pot smoke in the air around him, and a blissful look on his face. A girl named Alyssa – is on her knees before him.
Quentin is in the room next to Zach’s. I can hear him fucking his flavor of the week, a girl named Cassidy. I’m assuming, based on the sound of flesh slapping flesh reverberating off the walls. I played around with Cassidy for a while about a year ago. She’s a little off in the head. That situation could end up in disaster if Q isn't careful. And Dalton is in the last room to the left, with the door wide open. He’s a bit of an exhibitionist. Always has been. He’s laying back on the recliner, a girl named Monica riding him enthusiastically.
They move from me to Zach, to Dalton, and then finally to Quentin. And who knows, maybe when our youngest brother, Timothy comes of age, he'll fuck these girls too. But, that's still a few years off and I have a feeling Timothy won’t have any issues in that department. He's a good-looking, smart kid already.
That, combined with the Sheridan name, ensures that he's going to have zero problems getting laid whenever he wants to.
Twisting the top off a bottle of beer, I drop it on the counter and take a long pull from the bottle, relishing the feel of the cool liquid as it slides down my throat. As I look across the counter into the bedrooms, and see my brothers screwing their flavor of the night, I think back to my time with Bree.
I don't know Bree personally. But I know of her. Which is to say, I know her public persona. Know of her sterling and saintly reputation. She's the town's golden girl and an object of admiration near and far. She's one of the most beautiful women in town and thought by many to be virtuous and sweet, and completely untouchable. And like every other man in Folson Forge with a cock and a pulse, I lusted after her from afar.