The Masquerade Ball Where She Touched Me Again

In front of the office mirror, I adjusted the stiff collar of my uniform and clenched my jaw until it hurt. My reflection still felt foreign: broader shoulders, a short beard, a scar through my eyebrow, and gray eyes that weren't mine, though I was still myself behind them. It wasn't my face, my voice, or my body, but my memories had returned with brutal clarity, and with them came back the name I found hardest to silence.

Elena.

Behind me, Mara set a glass on the desk and folded her arms. She was the only one who still dared look at me as if she could read me from the inside. —If you're going into the palace tonight, stop staring at yourself as though you're going to break the mirror —she said—. We need you to look like a new bodyguard, not a ghost.

I let out a dry laugh. —You're asking too much.

—No. I'm asking you not to fall apart when you see her.

I didn't answer. Outside, the palace's main hall was already boiling with music, masks, and money. The charity ball was the perfect cover: nobles, businesswomen, diplomats, the press, new guards, service staff coming and going. A noisy night when any mistake could go unnoticed. Or cost us everything.

I was going to be a few steps from her for the first time since recovering my memory, and I was forbidden to touch her, forbidden to tell her who I was, forbidden to do anything that would reveal I knew her better than anyone.

—I'm going in —I murmured.

Mara held my gaze for a few seconds, then nodded. —Remember the plan. Watch. Listen. Don't improvise.

Don't improvise. That was precisely the one thing my body knew it would fail to do if Elena looked at me a certain way.

***

The hall looked like an elegant fire: gold, velvet, mirrors, white orchids, and an orchestra playing from an illuminated balcony. Everyone smiled with the polite falseness of high-society events. I stayed near a column, back straight, hands behind me, the black mask covering half my face.

I saw her before she saw me.

She wore a dark backless dress, clinging to a figure I knew by heart, though it had been weeks since I could even name it aloud. Her pinned-up hair revealed the clean line of her neck, and that simple detail struck through me like a shock. She moved from person to person, calm, imposing, perfect. But I knew her too well: the tension in her shoulders gave away exhaustion, restrained anger, and a loneliness no crown could conceal.

She paused with a glass in her hand, as if she had felt my eyes on her. She turned her head toward me.

And held my gaze.

She didn't recognize my face, of course. But something in her expression changed. The slightest hesitation. A twitch at the corner of her mouth. As if her body had detected a familiar scent amid the perfume and candle smoke.

I didn't move.

She did. She approached with the cool composure she used when she wanted to examine someone without seeming interested. When she stopped in front of me, she spoke without raising her voice. —I haven't seen you before. Are you with the new security team?

Her voice hit me harder than any punch.

—Yes, ma'am —I replied, forcing my voice into a deep, neutral tone—. I was assigned this week.

Her eyes traveled briefly down my uniform, then returned to my face. —Your name?

—Damián.

I lied without blinking, but inside I was burning. She tilted her head slightly, studying me. —You look like you know what you're doing, Damián.

—I hope so.

A masked woman approached to claim her attention. Elena stepped half a pace away, but before leaving she looked at me again. This time with something far more dangerous than suspicion. Interest.

When she walked away, I had to flex my fingers behind my back to keep from following her.

***

For an hour I limited myself to playing my part. I watched entrances, exits, discreet exchanges of messages, two hushed arguments behind a curtain, and a group of female advisers speaking too softly for me to hear from a distance. But my attention kept returning to Elena. To the way she took barely a sip of wine and left the glass untouched. To how she smiled without meaning it. To how, every few minutes, her eyes searched for the spot where I stood.

The third time our eyes met, she smiled sideways.

I knew she was lost. And so was I.

Later, a maid approached me without looking up. —The lady requests the new guard in the west corridor.

Of course she did.

I walked down the corridor with my pulse racing. The west corridor was nearly empty, lit by dim lamps and windows overlooking the black gardens. She was waiting beside a half-open door.

—Come in —she ordered.

The room was a private library. Silence, dark wood, leather, expensive liquor. Elena closed the door and leaned her back against it, still wearing her mask.

—I'm going to ask you a question, and you'd better answer honestly —she said.

—I'll listen.

She approached slowly. I felt her perfume before I felt the heat of her body. —Why can't you stop looking at me?

The question emptied my lungs.

—Because you look at me too —I replied.

She moistened her lower lip. That gesture almost broke me. —That doesn't answer anything.

—Maybe not.

—Maybe you're insolent.

—Maybe you're bored.

Her eyes gleamed. For a second I thought she would step away, dismiss me, restore the distance. Instead, she lifted a hand and brushed the lapel of my uniform with her fingers. Just that. The slightest contact. I had to restrain the animal impulse to seize her by the waist and kiss her until I ran out of air.

—There's something strange about you —she murmured—. I don't know what it is, and it irritates me.

—Some things irritate me too.

—Such as?

I looked at her mouth. —Having to pretend to be calm.

I saw her breathing grow tense. —You're too confident for a stranger.

—And you're too close for someone who wants distance.

The answer left her motionless. Then she smiled, slowly, dangerously. —Lock the door.

My hand obeyed before my mind could argue.

***

When I turned back to her, Elena had already removed her mask. Seeing her entire face struck me with intimate violence. That serious expression, those tired eyes, that barely contained desire. I took a step. She didn't retreat.

—This is a bad idea —she said.

—Yes.

—They could be looking for us.

—Yes.

—Then why do you keep coming closer?

—Because if I keep pretending I don't want you, my body is going to explode.

The confession came out cruder than it should have. Or perhaps exactly as it needed to.

Elena exhaled through her nose and grabbed my uniform, yanking me toward her. Her mouth collided with mine hungrily, without elegance or hesitation. It was a hard, urgent kiss, full of anger and need. I answered at once, holding her waist, pressing her against me until I felt the heat of her belly through our clothes.

She moaned against my mouth. The sound clouded my mind.

I bit her lip carefully, and she opened her mouth to let me in with a voracity that made me gasp. Our tongues sought each other desperately, as if too many weeks had accumulated between one breath and the next. Her hands rose to my nape and tugged lightly at my short hair, and I pushed her with my body until she was trapped between the door and me.

—Tell me to stop —I murmured against her neck.

—Don't you dare —she replied hoarsely.

I kissed her jaw, her throat, the warm skin behind her ear. Her perfume mixed with her real scent was driving me wild. I slid a hand down her bare back to the curve of her ass and squeezed hard. She released a clearer, dirtier moan.

—Fuck —she whispered—. I don't know what you've got, but it's been a long time since anyone made me lose my head like this.

I knew exactly what I had. I had memory. I had hunger. I had the love of my life pressed against me without her knowing it.

I pushed my knee between her thighs and felt her immediate reaction. She opened her legs wider beneath the dress and rubbed the center of her body against me with undisguised need. —You're soaked —I told her in her ear.

—And you talk too much.

I grabbed her chin and kissed her again. This time more slowly, more deeply, letting her feel that she wasn't dealing with a timid guard or an inexperienced stranger. My hand traveled up her thigh, pushing aside the fabric of her dress until I found the top of a stocking. Higher, hot skin. Higher still, the absence of underwear.

—You came prepared —I murmured.

Elena dug her fingers into my shoulder. —No. I just wanted to feel alive.

I slid my fingers between her thighs and she let out a sharp gasp, resting her forehead against my chest. She was truly wet, hot, open for me as soon as I brushed her pussy. I slid two fingers between her lips and slowly spread her moisture, enjoying the way she shuddered. Then I stroked her clitoris in slow circles.

—Shit... —she said through her teeth.

—That's it. I want to hear you.

—Don't give me orders.

—Then ask me.

She looked at me with dilated pupils. —Put your fingers inside me.

I didn't wait. I pushed them in slowly, feeling her body accept me with a hot, eager contraction. Elena arched her back and clung to my waist. I began moving my hand in a firm rhythm, sliding in and out while my thumb searched for her clitoris. Her breathing immediately turned ragged.

—Yes... like that, don't stop —she moaned.

I finger-fucked her harder and harder, listening to the wet sound of her arousal in the library's silence. She bit her lips to keep from moaning too loudly, but she couldn't stay quiet entirely. Every time I brushed that spot inside her, she dug her nails into me and the muscles in my back trembled.

—Look at me —I asked.

She did. And I nearly came apart. Because although she didn't recognize me, there was trust, desire, and something dangerously like the bond that had always been ours in her gaze.

I pulled out my fingers and she made a protesting sound. I dropped to my knees before she could complain further. I pushed her dress up to her waist and opened her legs with my hands.

—What are you doing? —she whispered, breathless.

—I'm going to eat your pussy until you forget where we are.

Her answer was a moan that confirmed she wasn't going to stop me.

I ran my tongue from bottom to top, slowly, savoring all of her. She was hot, wet, sensitive. Elena let her head fall back and released a muffled gasp. I repeated the motion, this time stopping at her clitoris to lick it with pressure, and her thighs tensed on either side of my face.

—Fuck, fuck... —she murmured—. Not so gently. More.

I obeyed. Holding her thighs firmly, I licked her hungrily, parting her lips with my tongue, slipping slightly inside her, then returning to her clitoris to suck it insistently. Elena began moving against my mouth, rubbing herself, losing all composure. Her fingers tangled in my hair and pulled without gentleness.

—Like that, don't stop... I'm going to come... —she said in a broken voice.

I pushed two fingers inside her again while continuing to eat her. The combination undid her. I felt her contract around my fingers, her legs tremble, and finally a louder moan escape when the orgasm hit her full force. She came in my mouth, body rigid, gasping my supposed name as though it were a plea.

I held her as she came down from her climax, kissing the inside of her thigh and breathing in her scent. When I looked up, she was staring at me as if she couldn't decide whether to kiss me or devour me.

She chose the latter.

She tugged at my jacket, forcing me to stand, and attacked my mouth desperately. I tasted like her. I tasted like old desire. She slipped a hand between our bodies and squeezed the fabric of my trousers, immediately feeling my erection.

Her expression changed. Curiosity. Kink. Want.

—So that's why you were so tense —she murmured, squeezing a little harder.

A growl escaped me. —Elena...

I froze when I heard my mistake. But she didn't seem to register the name; she was too busy rubbing me slowly and cruelly through my trousers.

—Do you like it? —she asked.

—You know I do.

—No, I don't. I want to hear you say it.

I caught her wrist and guided her hand with more pressure over my hard cock. —Yes. I like you touching me like that.

She smiled, satisfied, and lowered my zipper. She pulled out my cock with a determined movement and wrapped her hand around it. The contact tore a brutal gasp from me. It had been far too long since anyone had touched me, and no one had ever done it the way she did: confidently, elegantly, and obscenely all at once.

—Shit —she whispered when she felt its thickness—. No wonder you were looking at me like that.

She began jerking me off slowly, spreading the wetness from the tip down the shaft with her palm. I braced one hand against the door behind her head, fighting not to thrust into her right there. She watched me closely, enjoying every spasm of my abdomen, every broken breath.

—I could make you come right now —she said.

—No. I want to fuck you.

Her eyes darkened. —Then do it.

I turned her carefully but without unnecessary gentleness and bent her over the nearest desk. Papers and a pen fell to the floor. I pushed her dress up to her waist and caressed her ass before spreading her cheeks slightly to see her wet, open, still sensitive from the orgasm.

—You look beautiful like this —I said, my voice hoarse.

—Stop talking and put it in me.

I held her hip with one hand and guided my cock to her entrance with the other. The first brush made her moan. I pushed in slowly, feeling the delicious resistance of her body opening for me. When I was fully inside, Elena released a long, filthy moan that she had to bite into her forearm to keep from screaming.

I stayed still for a second, buried to the hilt, my forehead lowered between her shoulders, trying not to come right there from the sheer intensity. It felt too good. Too familiar. Too much like she was mine.

—Move —she ordered, trembling.

I did.

I withdrew almost completely and drove back into her with a firm thrust. The desk striking the floor kept time with the movement. Elena moaned again. I repeated the rhythm, harder each time, gripping her hip with one hand and her shoulder with the other, fucking her with hunger held back for far too long.

—Yes... fuck, yes —she gasped.

My thrusts grew faster. Her pussy squeezed me, hot and wet, growing more slippery by the second. The wet sound of our bodies colliding began to fill the room, making everything more obscene, more real. I lowered one hand between her legs and rubbed her clitoris while continuing to penetrate her.

Elena nearly collapsed over the desk. —I'm not going to last much longer —she said, her voice breaking.

—Neither am I.

—Harder.

I obeyed. I fucked her with hard thrusts that tore small muffled cries from her. The dress bunched at her waist, her arched back, one hand stretched out among the papers for support, her body trembling with every blow... everything about the sight was driving me wild.

—Look at me —I asked.

She turned her head just enough. I saw her flushed profile, parted lips, her gaze lost in pleasure. She came again almost immediately, clenching around my cock in violent pulses while moaning and begging for my false name between gasps.

That contraction pushed me over the edge. I buried my face in her neck and gave three more clumsy, desperate thrusts before coming inside the condom with a muffled groan. The orgasm emptied my legs. I remained over her, breathing hard, feeling both of us tremble.

For a few seconds there was no plan, no palace, no lie. Only the thick silence after sex.

***

I was the first to move. I slowly pulled away, straightened my clothes, and slipped the used condom into a handkerchief I found on the desk. Elena remained bent over for a few seconds, catching her breath. Then she straightened and pulled down her dress with surprisingly calm hands.

I watched her in the window's reflection, fixing her hair as if she had just concluded an uncomfortable meeting instead of coming twice with a stranger.

—This can't happen again —she said at last.

The words fell on me like ice down my back. Even so, I managed to answer without giving myself away. —I understand.

She turned toward me. Her face was hard, but confusion showed there too. —It's not because of you. Or maybe it is. I don't know. I just... I don't usually do this.

I had to lower my eyes for a moment to pull myself together. —Neither do I.

—You lie pretty well.

—Only when necessary.

Elena took a step toward me and straightened the collar of my uniform with an almost cruel delicacy. —That's what's strange. I feel as if I know you, and I know I shouldn't.

Something inside me broke. Outside, I only drew a deep breath. —Sometimes the body recognizes things before the mind does.

Her pupils trembled slightly. For a second I thought she would ask me something else, tear the lie apart with her fingernails. But she didn't. She put her mask on again, and with it recovered her distance.

—You'll leave first —she ordered.

I nodded.

Before I opened the door, she stopped me with her voice. —Damián.

I turned.

—If anyone asks, you were checking a window that wasn't closing properly.

—Yes, ma'am.

A shadow of a smile touched her mouth. —And stop calling me ma'am when we're alone.

I left without answering, because if I did, I would kiss her again.

***

Later, in the service wing, Mara intercepted me before I could reach the stairs. She looked at me once and knew something had happened. —You have lipstick on your neck —she said dryly.

I stood still.

—Tell me it was at least worth it.

I let out a bitter laugh. —That's the problem. It was worth too much.

She shook her head as she wiped me with a handkerchief. —I told you not to improvise.

—I didn't improvise. I failed with discipline.

That made her snort, though she immediately grew serious again. —Did you find out anything useful?

I thought of the corridors, the women talking behind the curtains, the adjoining office that had been left ajar when I went to get Elena a bottle of water. I had heard a name, a date, and a code phrase about a transfer at dawn. Yes, I had learned something important. But it was difficult to focus on that while I could still smell her on my fingers.

—Yes —I said at last—. And tomorrow we'll have to move quickly.

Mara held my gaze, then nodded. —Good. Then try to get whatever rest you can.

Rest. I almost laughed.

***

I didn't sleep. At dawn I was still sitting in a borrowed room, sleeves rolled up, with the memory of Elena opening herself for me playing over and over in my mind. I got up, went to the washbasin, and looked at myself in the mirror. That foreign face again. The beard, the scar, the gray eyes again.

But now there was something else.

The unbearable certainty that, even without knowing who I was, she had wanted me anyway. Her body had recognized me. Her hands had responded. Her mouth had sought mine with the same desperation with which she used to speak my name in the dark.

It wasn't enough. It couldn't be. But it was real.

I placed my hands on the edge of the washbasin and closed my eyes. Hold on a little longer, I told myself. Hold on until you can tell her. Hold on until you bring the truth into the light. Hold on until you can touch her again without lying to her.

Because I had already crossed a dangerous line. I hadn't merely entered the palace to spy. I had entered her body, her desire, her intimacy again. And after feeling her tremble once more between my hands, there was no way to forget her.

Nor any desire to.