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Sexy Behind The Mask

Chapter 4 Next Morning

Word Count: 1482    |    Released on: 08/12/2025

October

ewing on cotton balls. The empty wine bottle on the coffee table explained why. She groaned,

. She was going to be better off without him. A big sign they shouldn't be together was w

was it that he thought he could control her enough not to use the prenup. He

ht. The document she'd created now spanning several pages of meticulously dated incidents. Even drunk, she

g room windows, harsh and unforgiving. Honey glanced at her phone to check the time 6:45 AM. S

the hot spray of the shower, her mind cleared enough to form a plan for the day. Meet with the PI, gather evidenc

ersonal life. Especially not Grayson Taylor, who would no doubt us

own wig into place. She applied minimal makeup, just enough to hide the effects of last night's wine, the

ate her. It had always served her well. It wasn't as ugly as some of her outfits, but no one bothered to look passed the blah h

xt from Riley: Coming home to shower and change. I kno

now expected to waltz back in like nothing had happened. Little did

and Maggie tonight. A lie, but she couldn't bear to see

two phone calls, one to her doctor's office to get bloods done to make sure her cheater of a husband hadn't given her anything deadly. If he had she

g in Midtown. The space was deliberately bland with its beige walls, generic artwork, c

onist appeared. "Mr. Wa

sk to greet her. In his early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and the physique of a former cop who

ional, didn't say any

d, gesturing to a chair. "Your fat

her purse on her lap. "And that marriage is

umed as much. Personal matters usually involve

d the plastic bag containing the pi

couch cushions last

y seen far worse in his line

information, the addresses of his office and the gym he frequented. "I need irrefutable evidence of his i

tion. "Any idea who he

ine to three." Honey removed another sheet from her purse. "Her information is here, along with a list of nig

at her thoroughness. "You'v

e prepared f

d forward. "What's yo

s. The evidence first, then I'll consult with a divorce attorney. I have hidden cameras wi

nature of the case, I'd estimate two weeks max of surveillance bef

lso, in turn, send you anything I know." Honey didn't think it would

want to know details beyond what's necessary for the prenup? Some

this girl that he'd once said to her when they were dating and first married? Honey didn't

purposes," she decided. "I don'

ding in his eyes. "I'

er this afternoon." Honey stood, extending

firmly. "I'm sorry you're go

ant it. "This marriage has been over for a long time. I just needed a reason to

before heading to the office. Her phone buzzed with an email notifi

, opening

it

meters attached. Need completed slides by 4 PM t

t made it worse was that she'd spent all of yesterda

ar. Eating would have to wait. Again. She would j

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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."”