Masquerading Hearts

Also available in The Victoria Blisse Collection.

Laura is out for revenge on her cheating boyfriend Jack, but no matter how many men she beds, she can’t get him out of her mind.

A foursome with Jack in the mix might just be what she needs to get over him, but will it work?

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Masquerading Hearts

It doesn’t matter that I don’t know his name; I’ll not be calling him again. I’m just going to ride this cock till I’m satisfied. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know the colour of his eyes, because I’m not interested in staring into them. I just want his hardness slamming into my soft, willing cunt. It doesn’t matter who he is. All that matters is revenge: revenge on Jack.

Jack said he loved me. Jack said I meant the world to him. Jack said I was his soul mate. I believed him. I thought he was the one, you know, the one in the romance novels. Actually, our eyes did meet across a crowded ballroom. It was the office party one Christmas. We’d broken some sales record or other so they pushed the boat out, hired the swankiest room in the town hall and we had a ball, an actual masquerade ball. I was in an old, Marie Antoinette get-up: a glorious scarlet ball gown with this very delicate black embroidery around the low décolletage and enough volume in the skirt to deafen a metal head. I felt somewhat like the Michelin man, with big balloon sleeves over my less than delicate arms and skirts that ballooned out like inflated airbags that draped to the floor making me resemble a hovercraft.

I was standing in a corner, cradling a half-glass of warm rum and Coke and thinking about the buffet when, for some reason I still can’t grasp, I looked up. I looked into the brightest, most intense gaze I had ever experienced, and I was instantly smitten. My heart leapt – literally leapt – in my chest, and my nipples tightened as my pussy throbbed. Our eyes stayed locked as he walked towards me. He walked over, and I took nothing else in but the intensity of his stare, the soft sweep of his cheek bones, and the sensual wave of his lips.

He took me by the hand, and it was as if an electric circuit had been completed. I was charged up, my body prickling with arousal. He never spoke, just led me to the dance floor. We waltzed, spun, and reeled and, without a word as one song melted away into another, his lips touched mine.

In fact, we didn’t talk to each other very much at all on our first meeting. He slipped a card into my hand as he left with his friends, and on it was scrawled his name and phone number. I felt like such a wanton hussy as I realised I’d been with a nameless man with whom I’d never even made polite conversation. It excited me. I should have known it was too good to be true.

“Are you okay?” he gasps, and I’m shaken from my reverie. I look down at his screwed up grimace of a face and nod. I pull my most porn-like pout and growl, “Yes, oh yes.” For a split second, he looks as if he’s not convinced. Then I clench my cunt and his eyes close as a moan spills from his lips, and I know he has forgotten all doubt and is overwhelmed by lust once more.

He yells loudly as he comes. I cannot quite make out what he says, but it sounds like “Jane!” which isn’t my name. Oh well, at least he’s not going to get hung up on this fuck either.

“Where’s my bra?” I ask as I climb off his sticky cock.

“What are you doing?” he asks, looking confused.

“I’m getting dressed and going home. I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Oh.” He pouts as I gather my clothes and put them on. I turn to say goodbye once I pick up my lone shoe from the landing, but he is snoring already. I shut the door quietly behind me and walk.

© Victoria Blisse

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