Surrender by Lynn Townsend
Mistress Masque removed the green and brown leather demi-mask, signaling that the evening’s play was at an end. Red marks on her face mapped the territory where the disguise had lain, pressed tight against her flesh. She sighed, rubbing absently at her temples.
Bradley lifted his head and rocked back on his heels, a graceful movement, much practiced. He didn’t speak. Technically, she was no longer his mistress, only his friend and co-worker, but it was better to be safe than sorry. She would dismiss him soon enough—and too soon—and then he could ask questions, talk to her, and figure out just what the hell was wrong. And get his street clothes. Having a mistress was all good and well, but sometimes the outfits she put him in, meant to highlight all those desira
