Free Masked Innocence by Alessandra Torre

tone was short, and the stress in it caused my eyes to open again. I turned to him with a question in mine. “I have two brothers.”
    It didn’t answer my question, but I sensed the land mine behind the simple statement. I reached up, capturing his hand before it went through my hair, and brought it to my mouth, kissing it softly. He ran his fingers over my lips, and then looked out the window again.
    “You mentioned that you rarely have feelings for anyone. What did you mean when you said I was unique?”
    He looked at me carefully, his eyes a cluster of competing emotions. “You are unique in that I am developing feelings for you.”
    “Developing.” I pursed my lips and looked at him.
    “Fine. There may be a few already developed. Little ones.”
    I rolled my eyes and shifted, burrowing deeper into his lap and putting his hand back on my hair, his fingers obediently resuming their movement. Little, barely developed feelings, he said. I did a spot check of my own warm and fuzzies. Hmmph . Well, Mama always said I developed ahead of the others.
    I closed my eyes, the gentle feeling of his fingers wiping any thought from my head. I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up in Brad’s arms, being carried like a small child, up the inner stairs of his home. At the top I untangled myself, standing up and stumbling to the bathroom, where I ran hot water over a washcloth and wiped down my face, turning his white terry cloth nine shades of colors. After thoroughly rinsing my face, I flipped off the light and shuffled toward the bed. His grip stopped me, and his hands brushed down my body, grabbing my dress and pulling it up and over my head. He then helped me into bed, pulling the covers up and over my naked body.
    I awoke when he got in the bed, sometime later, smelling of fresh soap and toothpaste. He wrapped his arms around me and we fell asleep, our bodies spooned together, the hum of the fan the only sound in the dark room.

Fifteen
    Brad’s hand was on my cheek. He traced the curves of my face, gently, light, his soft touch a strange contrast to his muscular hand. I smiled, my eyes still closed, and felt his fingers move to brush my lips. I opened my mouth and sucked on a finger, opening my eyes to find his handsome face, close to mine, his eyes on mine.
    I gave a contented sigh and closed my eyes again, his fingers leaving my mouth and traveling back up, smoothing my hair back and tracing their way down my shoulder and back.
    “It’s late.” His voice, husky and dry, sounded in my ear as he leaned over and gave me a soft kiss on my neck. I pulled the blanket over my head in response, burying down deeper into the soft down. He tugged on the blanket, trying to pull it off, but I held firm, locking my fingers tight and using my body to pin the edges down.
    I was no match for him, though he went easy on me to begin with. My giggles finally lost the battle for me, and when I finally came up for air he was there, playful and sexy, pushing me back on the bed and smothering my body with his hard bare chest. I kicked and screamed, pushing against his hard chest, and he leaned down, silencing me with his mouth and tongue, till my muffled screams subsided and I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, losing myself in the kiss.
    Then, in the soft sheets and morning light, I had my seventh, eighth and ninth orgasm in twelve hours.
    * * *
    “I DON ’ T UNDERSTAND the problem,” Brad said.
    I sipped my lemonade and looked at Brad over the rim of the glass. We had driven three ridiculously short blocks from Brad’s home, and now sat beneath teal umbrellas at a restaurant on the edge of a large park. “There isn’t really a problem, per se. Not now, at least. But it’s only a matter of time before someone finds out about us. I am one week from that no longer hanging over my head. If I stay on, and Broward finds out...” I couldn’t finish the sentence, the idea too bleak to even consider. Brad’s