The Mask

A secret club. A mystery woman. A craving I can’t restrain.

As a billionaire e-commerce entrepreneur, I’m expected to take my clients to Jewel, an elite men’s club offering female gems of salacious delight. A place where any fantasy is fulfilled… for a price.

I never allow myself fantasies, so the last thing I expect to find inside Jewel is a woman I immediately crave. The Butterfly. A woman I want desperately. A woman I can’t stop thinking about.

But there’s a problem… the beauty who hides behind a mask and sings like a celestial being isn’t for sale.

Not to be thwarted, I pay her for something else instead — to answer five of my questions. She’s intriguing. A mystery. And her answers compel me to know more.

But I’m not the only one interested. Not the only one who wants to know her… the real her. The woman behind the mask. The one the whole world knows. Below the sensual surface of Jewel, lurks a dark and dangerous predator. A man I must save her from.

As it turns out, the Butterfly isn’t the only one who wears a mask. I do too. Who will save her from me?


Alice Ward is another author I read who has the ability to tell a story that is emotionally complex, with a detailed and vivid plot, and has enough chemistry to level a city. That chemistry singes the pages every time Roman and Adara are together

Kristen Lewendon

This author never disappoints. This story takes you on a journey of loss and healing and true love. It’s a beautiful reminder that beauty is only skin deep and true love sees beyond the surface.

Keri Roth


Her fingers curled around the base of my shaft and tugged it closer to her body. Then with gentle beckoning strokes that made it grow harder and more ready for her, she pressed me deeper into her folds, building more friction as she moved her hips over me.

“Please,” I begged, the blood forcing my cock upright, my need blinding. A shiver coursed down my spine and it took everything in me not to throw her onto the bed and take her like I was some kind of animal. My body was glistening with sweat as I fought for a rationale I no longer possessed.

She leaned into me, her near naked body against my chest as she softly pressed her lips to mine. Her taut nipples grazed over my shirt, her mouth giving me just a taste of her frosted cherry lip gloss.

I wanted her to linger there so I could relish her mouth, but she moved downward to my neck, first kissing then biting. Streaks of electric fire shot to my cock.

All that existed was tension and heat.

I bit my lip and willed my cock not to explode in her hand. I had to have her.

She trailed kisses down my chest to my nipples, teasing them with her tongue. At the same time, one hand gently floated across my body, tracing the contours and ripples formed by my labor in the gym. The other hand smoothed fingers over the dew beading on the tip of my cock and glazed it across the head. Holding it firmly, she gently stroked, and I quivered under her — the sensations of her hand playing my cock had me no longer able to resist my urges.

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