Mardi Gras by Lacey Alexander (reading the story of the TXT) 📕

Tonight she wore a tight, slinky dress of purple that showed lots of cleavage and lots of thigh. Same hot black heels, and he only hoped those stockings led to garters again—he had a serious thing for garters.

Of course, to his frustration but not his surprise, she was wearing another mask.

Tonight’s was covered with tiny glistening purple sequins, and three dark purple feathers fanned up from the left eye. Two strands of shimmery purple beads hung from either side of the mask, draping below her chin.

Her vibrant green gaze seemed to pin him in place.

“Mistress Mina, I presume,” he said with a smile.

“You presume?” God, her sexy voice sifted down through him like warm brown sugar.

“The mask,” he said, pointing. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I suppose this means we’re still playing domination games tonight.” She pursed her lips. “Does that disappoint you?”

He shook his head shortly. “No.” Although that was a bit of a fib. The truth was, he’d hoped to take a little more control this time, get back into his usual comfort zone.

The fantasy had been fun, if a little unnerving, but he wanted something else tonight.

And now that he knew what it felt like to be tied up, he kind of had the urge to tie her up. He wouldn’t have minded dispensing with the mask, either. Sexy as hell? Yes. But despite that, he still wanted to see her face.

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She took his hand. “Ready?”

So she intended to lead him straight to her apartment and get right to the action. He wasn’t complaining, but… “I’d hoped to take you out to dinner first.”

“I already ate,” she said, then stepped up close to him—so close that, despite all the partiers and revelers around them, no one noticed when she pressed her palm against his cock through his khaki pants. “And I want to fuck you, lover. Now.” Warmth encased his body as the hot pressure from her hand turned him even harder. He loved that they stood in the middle of a crowd, but no one knew she was touching him so intimately. “Don’t suppose I can argue with that,” he murmured, peering heatedly down into her eyes.

Turning, she grabbed his hand and began to guide him across the street to Jackson Square. “One thing, though,” he said behind her.

When they reached the sidewalk, she stopped to look up at him. “What’s that?”

“Don’t tie me up this time. I want to touch you.”

“You didn’t like how things were last time?”

“I loved it, baby. It was…as if you read my mind.” And that was the truth. “But this time I need to have my hands on you.” He decided to keep it as simple as that. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off Mistress Mina by refusing to play her little game.

She gazed up into his eyes, the expression in hers pointed, almost feral, giving him the impression that she might want the same thing. “Will you do what I say if I don’t tie you up? Exactly what I say?”

In actuality, he wasn’t sure he could resist taking control if he wasn’t bound. He wanted to turn the tables on this exciting, delectable woman. But he wasn’t about to tell her that. “Yes,” he lied. “Anything.”

He sounded so earnest, so needful, it tore at Mia’s heart. Part of her was tempted to rip off her mask and wig and say, It’s me, Mia. Pure insanity, of course. But a big part of 62

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her wished he knew she was the woman making wild love to him, the woman he was begging, wanting to touch.

Still, she couldn’t. She’d gone too far into this crazy game now. She had to keep playing or she’d lose everything. Her friendship with Ty. Maybe even her job.

Definitely this second night of passion. She wasn’t willing to give up any of those things.

Taking his hand again, she led him up to Bourbon, the crowd and the excitement growing with each step toward the famed street of debauchery. Music played everywhere around them. Guys threw handfuls of beads from balconies to girls who were lifting their shirts below, baring their breasts to the cheers of passersby.

Hurricanes and daiquiris and enormous glasses of beer were being drunk, or splashed, or spilled. A glance to her right found a college-aged girl purposely oozing a slushy daiquiri onto her exposed breasts while two guys licked and slurped the drink away.

Mia had never been into that sort of random revelry, even during Mardi Gras. She loved sex, but before Ty, she’d never fucked someone on the first date, and public displays of decadence on the street generally didn’t affect her much one way or the other. But tonight, with a river of heat already flowing through her veins and flooding her pussy—everything around her added to her arousal, with or without her permission.

When finally they reached Aunt Sophie’s place she reached into her bra and drew out the key, letting them inside. And just like Saturday night, she wanted him so badly that it was all she could do not to just leap on him. She needed to catch her breath, get control of the situation, if she wanted to play his Mistress Mina again.

Whisking into the front parlor, she opened the French doors wide and stepped out on the balcony for a breath of fresh, calming air. The weather was cooler tonight than last week. But the crowd was wilder—Fat Tuesday, the culmination of Mardi Gras, was only three days away, and you could feel the Quarter’s tension building with each 63

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successive night. This weekend would be the pinnacle of the heavy partying, all the stops pulled out. Maybe this wasn’t such a good place for attempting to calm herself.

She stood there unable to think clearly, her desire rising to a fever pitch, when Ty stepped up behind her. His arms slid around her waist as he pressed his