Masked Desires

Chapter 3: Sophie

Later, seeking a moment away from the crowd, I wander up a dark, cold staircase. The hallway is quiet, and my heels echo softly against the marble floor. The chill in the air makes me shiver, and I hug myself tightly for warmth as tears begin to fall, a mix of frustration and sadness overwhelming me. I turn a corner and almost bump into the same man from earlier. He's striking in a sleek black suit, his mask adorned with sharp, angular designs that emphasize his intense hazel eyes.

Seeing my tears, he reaches out gently, wiping them from my cheeks with a tenderness that surprises me. He then begins to rub my arms, trying to keep me warm. He then moves his hands to my ass and squeezes it a gasp leaves my mouth and my pussy suddenly feels so wet, my clit pulsing I squeeze my legs together trying to create some friction. He then moves his hand to my hard nipples and squeezes them. He gathers my hair with one hand, his fingers so large and veiny compared to mine. He pulls it into a ponytail, his eyes widening with lust as he tugs on it slightly.
Then, he lets go. We stand close, and he reaches out to gently brush his thumb across the bottom of my lip. The touch is electrifying, and I'm caught between excitement and confusion.

He looks into my eyes and murmurs softly, "I want to write poems on your skin with my lips." He then looks down at my dress and says "if you were mine I'd never let anyone see you in such a slutty dress, this body would only be mine to see and touch."

But then I remember he's engaged. I shouldn't be doing this. I was about to step back when a beautiful blonde girl, wearing a white silk nightgown that barely covers her body, stumbles out of a nearby room.
Her hair is messy, and her lipstick is smudged, giving her a disheveled appearance. She shoots me an angry look before pulling the mysterious man into the room with her. He doesn't even glance back. That might be the girl he's engaged to. I should have stayed away from him.

I decide to clear my mind and head to the restroom. As I step inside, the cool, sterile lighting illuminates my reflection in the mirror. I stare at my face, the makeup smudged from my tears, and feel a deep sense of despair. I think about how my life has been a series of controls and restrictions. Why am I always being told what to do? Why can't I choose my own path?

The memory of Ben, my boyfriend from the club, haunts me. We shared moments of freedom and joy before my mother found out and locked me in my room. My father only started talking to me few days before the masquerade ball. I wonder why my life has to be so miserable, why I have to be forced into an arranged marriage with someone I've never met, while my own choices and happiness seem so out of reach.

I take a deep breath and, with a final glance at my reflection I step out of the bathroom.

Feeling a knot of sadness in my chest, I return downstairs. My parents are at the front with Mr and Mrs Steel, and the room is buzzing with anticipation.