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Sexy Behind The Mask

Chapter 3 Same Night

Word Count: 1412    |    Released on: 08/12/2025

Riley's Apartment

other. The day had been exhausting and her back ached from hunching over spreadsheets for nine hours

ngs to the last minute, but they had only sent her the numbers this morning, giv

ough to hear if he would. The moment she'd emailed the completed files; she'd bolted from the office before he coul

arlier: Partner dinner tonight. Don't wait up. There had been a heap of late nigh

ock on the wall read 8:07 PM. She sighed, knowing she should be grateful for

e kitchen counter. Next came the glasses she didn't need, followed by the hairpins that kept her high-quality shoulder length br

. The transformation was already beginning,

of takeout, and flopped onto the sofa. Something stuffed at the bac

the cushions where her fingers caught the l

g dangled from

e hadn't worn anything remotely that color since college. And it certainly wasn't something Riley would wear un

only one p

wear as if it had burned her. For a moment, she sat perfectly still

she whispered. Her husb

forget the scent of perfume on his clothes. Which he had always explained away, calling her pa

one thing. Holding physical e

e it more carefully. Expensive, by the feel of the fabric.

r being too focused on work, for letting herself become the dull, sexl

-not if she was honest with herself. She just hadn't wanted to face it. To admit she had made a mistake marrying him. Having the proof th

e had taken vows, and she took those vows very seriously. She wished now in a lot of way

r living room. Then she walked to the kitchen and dropped the panties into a zip lock bag before she dropped them into her handbag. Grabbing a wine glass and a bottl

y opened her takeout. As she ate her Pad Thai directly from the container, she scrolled through her phone until she found t

personal matter. Discretion esse

nfronting Riley when he eventually stumbled home, lying and denying everything and gasl

r so cocky he had believe

zzed with Be

lable at 11:30 AM.

another s

I'll be ther

r months... no, years, really, she'd been living an unhappy lif

Riley's betrayal. It was permission to

a message from Riley: Dinner running late. Stay

lived in a sleek bachelor pad downtown. The perfect alibi. How many times had Riley use

e could see she had read it. Instead, she

pretending to be someone she wasn't, of tolerating Riley's i

t her inability to climax with him was her problem, not his. Yet another lie in a marriage built

ng to do this, hire Ben dad's PI, gather evidence, divorce Riley, she needed to be meth

ths. Late nights. Unexplained expenses on their credit card statements. The

y had dismissed her own discomfort as petty jealousy. Brittany would fit into those pantie

herself, gulping more wine, befor

hispered to the absent owner of the

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Sexy Behind The Mask
Sexy Behind The Mask
“She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith-the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room-Manhattan's most exclusive masked club-she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you."”