The grand ballroom shimmered under a thousand floating lanterns veiled in crimson silk, transforming the nightly gathering into the Masquerade of Veiled Whispers — one of the manor’s most intimate solstice traditions. Guests wore elaborate half-masks of lace, gold, and enchanted ice that subtly altered voices and heightened senses. Music pulsed low and sensual, a slow waltz that invited bodies to press close under the cover of anonymity.
Elara moved through the crowd in a deep scarlet gown that hugged every curve, her simple black lace mask doing little to hide the flush on her cheeks. Beneath the silk, she wore nothing. Kaelen’s repeated loads from the day had left her p***y constantly slick and tender, every step causing a wet slide between her swollen folds. She had tried to stay near
