A Reckless Night with a Stranger

"Absolutely not, Hazel Vance. You are coming with me." Chloe grabbed my hands firmly, locking eyes with me through our masks. "No more hiding. No more crying over people who don't deserve your tears."

I glanced at my reflection again, barely recognizing myself in the shimmering red dress. The golden mask transformed me into someone else—someone bolder, someone who didn't carry the weight of betrayal on her shoulders.

"One hour," I conceded. "Then I'm coming back here and drowning my sorrows in ice cream."

"Sure, whatever you say." Chloe's smile told me she had no intention of sticking to that timeline.

The Sterling Masquerade Ball was nothing short of magnificent. The historic Hamilton Hotel ballroom sparkled with thousands of twinkling lights. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the crowd of masked dancers. Everyone looked mysterious and elegant, swirling around in designer gowns and tailored suits.

"Drink this," Chloe handed me a flute of champagne. "And that one, too," she added, pushing another into my free hand after I downed the first.

The bubbles tickled my throat, sending a warm wave through my body. For the first time in months, I felt the tension in my shoulders begin to loosen.

"There's Mark from accounting," Chloe waved across the room. "I need to say hello. Will you be okay for a minute?"

"I'm a big girl," I laughed, already feeling lighter from the champagne. "Go network."

Left alone, I wandered toward the dance floor. The music washed over me, and I closed my eyes, swaying slightly. When was the last time I'd just let myself enjoy something without overthinking it?

"You look like you could use a dance partner."

The deep voice startled me. I opened my eyes to find a tall figure standing before me. His black mask covered the upper half of his face, revealing only a strong jawline and sensual lips. What caught my breath, though, were his eyes—an intense violet-blue that seemed to glow beneath his mask.

"I wasn't planning on dancing," I replied, surprising myself with my flirtatious tone.

"Plans change." He extended his hand just as the orchestra transitioned to a slower song. "One dance won't kill you."

Something about his confidence made me place my hand in his. He pulled me close, one large hand settling at the small of my back. Heat radiated through the thin fabric of my dress.

"You're not from around here," he said, expertly guiding me across the floor. "I'd remember you."

"Quite confident for someone who can only see half my face."

His lips quirked into a smile. "The important half."

The champagne had emboldened me. "And which half is that?"

"The half that's smiling at me now."

We moved together as if we'd danced a thousand times before. His hand burned against my back, drawing me incrementally closer with each turn.

"What brings you here tonight?" he asked, his breath warm against my ear.

"Escape," I admitted, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

"From what?"

"My life." The champagne had loosened my tongue. "Just for tonight."

His eyes darkened, pupils dilating behind his mask. "I understand escape."

The music swelled around us. My head felt light—from the champagne, the spinning, or his proximity, I couldn't tell.

"I need some air," I murmured, placing a hand on his chest to steady myself.

Without hesitation, he guided me away from the crowd, down a dimly lit corridor. We stopped near a tall window, moonlight streaming through the glass.

"Better?" he asked, his voice lower than before.

I nodded, my back against the cool wall. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Making me forget," I whispered.

Something shifted in his expression. In one fluid movement, he stepped closer, crowding me against the wall. "Let me help you forget a little more."

His lips crashed against mine. The kiss was hungry, desperate. My body responded instantly, arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue slipped past my lips, tasting of expensive whiskey and desire.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against my mouth, large hands gripping my waist.

"Don't stop," I gasped.

That was all the permission he needed. His mouth trailed down my neck, teeth grazing sensitively over my pulse point. I moaned, not caring who might hear. His hands slid down to cup my backside, lifting me against the wall.

"Wrap your legs around me," he commanded.

I obeyed, locking my ankles behind his back. The new position brought the hard evidence of his desire firmly against me, separated only by layers of fabric. He groaned, grinding his hips forward.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his breathing ragged.

"Yes," I hissed, digging my fingers into his shoulders. "Please."

What happened next was a blur of desperate movements. He pushed my dress up around my waist. I fumbled with his belt. In moments, he was positioned at my entrance, pausing only briefly to search my eyes for final confirmation.

I answered by pulling him forward, gasping as he filled me completely. The feeling was exquisite—stretching, burning, satisfying in a way I'd never experienced before. He began to move, setting a relentless pace that had me biting my lip to keep from screaming.

"Look at me," he demanded, one hand cupping my face. "I want to see you."

I forced my eyes open, meeting that intense violet-blue gaze as he drove into me again and again. The connection was electric, intimate beyond the physical act we were engaged in.

"You're so beautiful," he groaned, his rhythm faltering as he approached his peak.

His thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, circling with expert precision. The dual sensation pushed me over the edge. My vision went white as waves of pleasure crashed through me. I felt him follow seconds later, his body tensing as he buried his face in my neck, muffling his release.

We stayed locked together, breathing heavily, neither willing to break the spell. Slowly, he lowered me to my feet, steadying me when my legs threatened to give out.

"That was..." he started, then shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.

"Yeah," I agreed, smoothing my dress back down.

He adjusted his clothing, then gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't do this. Ever."

"Neither do I," I admitted.

"I'd like to know your name," he said softly.

Before I could answer, his phone rang. The harsh sound shattered our bubble. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. His entire demeanor changed in an instant.

"I have to take this," he said, already answering. "Hello? What? When?" The color drained from his face. "I'll be right there."

Without another word, he turned and sprinted down the hallway, disappearing around the corner. Just like that, he was gone.

I leaned against the wall, reality slowly seeping back in. What had I just done? I'd had sex with a complete stranger whose name I didn't even know, against a wall at a charity ball. This wasn't me. I never did things like this.

Yet I couldn't bring myself to regret it.

I found my way back to the ballroom, spotting Chloe immediately. She took one look at me and her eyes widened.

"Where have you been? And why do you look like you just..." Her mouth formed a perfect O. "You didn't!"

"Time to go," I muttered, grabbing her arm.

Later that night, sprawled on my couch with Chloe, I recounted every detail of my encounter with the mysterious masked man.

"His eyes were incredible, Chloe. This intense violet-blue I've never seen before. And the way he touched me..." I sighed, still feeling the ghost of his hands on my skin.

"Sounds like you had the perfect revenge hookup," Chloe grinned, refilling our wine glasses. "Much better than watching Jessica and Ethan say their vows."

"It was incredible," I admitted, feeling my cheeks flush. "I've never done anything so reckless."

"Sometimes reckless is exactly what you need." Chloe clinked her glass against mine. "To new beginnings and mysterious strangers!"

I laughed, taking a sip. "To one perfect night."

Chloe tilted her head, studying my expression. "Wait, there's just one thing I need to ask... You guys used protection, right?"

The wine glass nearly slipped from my fingers as stark realization hit me like a truck. My mind raced back through the heated encounter—the desperation, the passion, the complete abandonment of reason.

"Oh my God," I whispered, my blood turning to ice. "We didn't."