Just for Tonight

The cold tile of the bathroom wall pressed against my back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the masked man's body. 

His hands cradled my face, thumbs tracing the edge of my mask.

"Are you sure of this?" he murmured.

Was I? 

God? 

No. This was madness. I didn't know this man. He could be anyone—

A distant crash jolted me back to reality. Right. Gunshots. Panic. The real world crashing in on this surreal bubble we'd found ourselves in.

"I... I don't even know who you are," I stammered, my hands fisted in his shirt.

He chuckled. "Isn't that the point of all this?" 

His fingers skimmed down my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

"Tonight, we can be anyone we want to be."

My breath hitched as his lips found that sensitive spot just below my ear. 

"And who do you want to be?" I managed to ask.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes intense behind his mask. 

"Yours," he said simply. "Just for tonight."

Something in his voice, raw and honest, broke through the last of my hesitation.

I hurried forward, capturing his lips with mine. 

What followed was a blur of sensation. Hands roaming, fabric rustling, skin on skin. Every touch felt electric, charged with the knowledge that this was forbidden, dangerous.

Then his hands began sliding down my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I shivered, my back still pressed against the cold bathroom tile. His fingers found the hem of my shirt, and with one swift motion, he pulled it over my head, leaving me in nothing but my bra and pants.

His eyes roamed over my bare skin, taking in every inch of me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but in the best possible way. I wanted him to see me, all of me, and I could tell from the heat in his gaze that he approved.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin.

I gasped as he trailed kisses down my neck, his hands roaming lower. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my pants, and I couldn't help but arch into his touch.

"Please," I begged, not even sure what I was asking for. I just knew I wanted more.

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. "Patience," he said, his lips curving into a smile against my skin.

Slowly, teasingly, he tugged my pants down, leaving me in nothing but my bra and a pair of lacy panties. He knelt before me, his eyes never leaving mine as he helped me step out of my pants.

I felt self-conscious under his gaze, but there was something about the way he looked at me that made me feel beautiful, desired. I knew he wanted me, and that knowledge gave me the confidence to let go, to give myself over to the moment.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my stomach, just above the waistband of my panties. I shivered, my hands fisting in his hair. He looked up at me, his eyes dark and full of desire.

"You're mine," he said, his voice firm.

I nodded, unable to speak. I was his, for tonight at least. And I was going to make the most of it.

He stood up, his body pressed against mine once again. His hands roamed over my skin, setting me on fire. I could feel him, hard and ready, through his pants.

"Do you have protection?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Who cares?" He groaned, cupping by bare buttocks with his strong arms as he pressed a kiss.

His kiss was fire, burning away every doubt, every rational thought I should have had. 

All that remained was this moment, this man, and the heat building between us.

I moaned, my heart already racing in anticipation as he  lifted me up, his hands gripping my thighs. 

I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck. He pressed me against the bathroom wall, his lips finding mine in a deep, passionate kiss.

I could feel him, hot and hard, against me. I moaned, rocking my hips in time with his, desperate for friction. He groaned, his hands tightening on my thighs, and I knew he shared my desire.

"Please," I begged again, my voice shaky.

“Em… Emilia."

A voice cut through the haze. Distant but unmistakable. I froze, the passion-filled bubble paused as reality intruded.

Who was that? It wasn’t Mary… no, that voice was too deep.

My pulse quickened, fear creeping in. Who else knew I was here?

Nobody. Then... How...?

“Maybe Mary sent someone…” I whispered, unsure, caught between the urgency of the moment and the threat closing in. My body tensed, uncertain. 

I was seconds away from responding when the masked man pressed his palm over my mouth, his silent command clear: listen.

My heart pounded, torn between fear and arousal, as footsteps echoed outside the restroom door.

"Emilia, are you there?" The voice was closer now, followed by the shuffle of several people. More than one.