Isabella follows him

Isabella hesitated, her body trembling with need. His words sent a rush of desire through her, her breath catching in her throat. She wanted to give in, to taste him, to surrender to a night of hedonistic pleasure.

"Lead the way, Mr. Tiger," she whispered.

The tiger-man guided her through the crowd, his hand on the small of her back. She could feel the heat of his body, the closeness of him making her heart race. The noise and laughter faded, replaced by the pounding of her pulse in her ears.

He led her upstairs, past the servants holding trays of refreshments, and they reached an empty corridor that lead to what appeared to be multiple guest bedrooms. Some doors were ajar, reavealing plush and decadent interiors, all feathery pillows and silk bedsheets. Others were closed, the moans and sounds of flesh coming together eminating from within betraying the activities of their occupiers.

"This way," the tiger-man growled, leading her into a darkened room. Isabella followed, her heart hammering against her chest. The door closed behind them, the noise of the party fading away. They were alone, the darkness enveloping them.

"What's your name, beautiful stranger?" the tiger-man whispered.

"I... I don't want to say," she replied, her voice trembling.

"You can trust me," he purred.

"Sofia," she lied.

The tiger-man grinned.

"Well then, Sofia," he said, his voice low and husky, "let's get comfortable."

He took her in his arms, pulling her close. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, his chest rising and falling against her. She inhaled his scent, musky and intoxicating. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the light from the streetlamps outside filtering through the curtains.

She melted into him, her body pressed against his. His hands caressed her hips, tracing their way up to her waist. He pulled her closer, his hands squeezing her curves greedily.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his voice thick with desire.

His hands moved to her ass, caressing and groping. She moaned softly, her own hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

"You're so sexy," he breathed, a finger trailing along her jaw, under her mask. "So fucking sexy."

His other hand slipped under her dress, cupping her ass and squeezing. He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist.

"Oh god," she gasped.

He carried her over to the bed, laying her down. He crawled on top of her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, her legs still wrapped around him. She could feel the presence of him, the hardness of his cock straining against his pants.

He tugged at the silk ribbons, trying to pull off her mask. Isabella gasped, pushing his hands away. "No," she hissed. "I want to keep it on."

"As you wish," he growled, his hands switching to her breasts, barely hidden by her dress. "Whatever makes you happy, Sofia."

His fingers pulled at edge of her dress, tugging it down to expose her shoulder and cleavage. He growled appreciatively, his thumbs teasing the top of her breasts.

"Such beautiful tits," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble. "Let's get them out. I want to see them."

Isabella arched her back, allowing him to tug her dress down from the other side. He freed her breasts, the cool air causing her nipples to harden even more.

"Mmm, perfect," he groaned, his fingertips caressing her flesh, sending shivers down her spine.

She reached for him, unbuttoning his shirt and exposing his chest. His skin was smooth and taut, the muscles firm under her touch.

"Oh, yes," she moaned, her hands exploring him.

They groped at each other blindly, vision restricted by their masks and the flickering light. The darkness amplified the sensation, heightening every touch, every squeeze, every gasp and moan.

Isabella could take no more. She needed him. Now.