Free Fever Dream by Annabel Joseph Page A

Arms encircled her, pulling her into a full body embrace. “I thought you went upstairs with Liam.”
    From his touch alone, she knew it was Rubio. His hands roved over her flat stomach. “ Meu Deus do céu . What happened to your baby?”
    Petra turned and stepped away from him. He took in her face and her hair at the same time she took in his astounding nakedness. He was hard all over, beautifully muscled, his pronounced iliac furrows framing a truly magnificent cock. She dropped her gaze and stared at the ground. Don’t recognize me. Please don’t recognize me.
    He put a finger under her chin and tipped her head up. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he scrutinized her face. His voice came low and roughened with surprise. “You!”
    She shook her head, like she might still play this off. He backed away and looked at all of her—her dress, her wig, the black pumps she wore instead of her toe shoes.
    “You,” he exclaimed again, like he couldn’t get his brain wrapped around it. Her brain wasn’t working that well either. She was stone-cold busted and Rubio was so, so naked. When she turned to flee, he caught her arm.
    “Wait. What are you doing here?” He pushed back her hair when she tried to hide her face. “Why are you wearing a wig?”
    So you won’t recognize me, damn it. “I’m here for the same reason you are,” she lied. “To have a good time, to relax, to enjoy myself.”
    “What in holy fuck?” He seemed outraged, which made no sense since he was here and, from the looks of things, having quite a pleasurable time. “I thought you were Ashleigh,” he spluttered. “You looked just like her from behind.”
    “You run around groping Ashleigh whenever you feel like it?” Petra snapped. “I thought she was married to your friend.”
    “What are you doing here?” he repeated, ignoring her question. Again, helplessly, her gaze dipped to his half-engorged and wholly-impressive cock. He reached down and covered himself with an affronted expression. “Stop leering at me like I’m a piece of meat.”
    “I’m not leering. You’re the one running around naked.” He wasn’t the only one, sure, but he was the only one standing two feet from her. And the only one with a body that made her want to cry in its virile perfection. She’d seen him bare-chested, in clinging sweats, and in body-hugging tights that left nothing to the imagination. Even then, she’d never imagined this.
    “Come here.” He took her elbow and steered her deeper into the dark corner. He backed her against the wall and leaned down, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he waggled a finger in her face.
    “If you came to spy on me, to tell my secrets to everyone, too bad. Everyone knows I come here. I’m not ashamed that I’m kinky.”
    What? He thought she was here to out him or something? She didn’t want him to believe that so she spit out another blatant lie. “I’m here because I’m kinky too.” She stuck out her chin, willing her voice not to shake as she lied her head off. “I’ve been kinky my whole life, as long as I can remember.”
    “Who are you here with? Who invited you?”
    She bit her lip. How long was she going to brazen this out? “No one invited me. I heard about this party and I came to check it out.” She shot a longing look over his shoulder, to the stairs and the exit.
    “Who you looking for here?” he persisted. “A man? A woman? A top or a bottom?”
    His intent questions alarmed her almost as much as her lies. “It’s none of your fucking business who or what I’m looking for.”
    He stared at her a moment, then he snorted. “You have sub all over you like fucking body oil. Is leaking out of your pores.”
    “It is not.”
    “I knew you were a sub from the second I met you. I just wasn’t sure you knew it.”
    She inched away from him, back toward the activity and noise of the play room floor. “It doesn’t matter. Just because you’re a