Masked Tuxedo Novels & Stories

he said. He cleaned up nicely. In place of his work clothes, he wore a beautifully fitted tuxedo with narrow lapels that accentuated his broad shoulders and his narrow waist. His white tux shirt was immaculately pressed and shone like a spotlight. Most men can’t carry off a bow tie, but he could -- in black silk, and hand-tied to boot. “I’m Javier Marisco,” he said, sticking out his hand.

I tap on a red button and stroll in. There's a towering figure staring at the sight of the city from the glass walls. His muscular arms are tucked in his pocket, his long legs hidden in a tailored black Armando tuxedo. He's large, a little taller than me, and his muscles look like they'll rip the tux apart in seconds.

I woke up from the knock coming from the door I suddenly stood up from the bed “ Shoot” I whispered when I realized that I am not wearing anything “ Yes, Bro” I shouted “ Babe, wake up” I shook Gun's body, This adorable man, looks cuter when he’s sleeping He slowly opened his eyes and stared at me “ Hey” He shouted and covered his face using his hands “ Get dress” He irritatedly shouted “ WOW? Acting innocent? You already saw everything last night” I teased him while putting my shirt

"Lena Blackwood! The mask model! She's here!" Then the crowd shifted again, a ripple moving through it, because he appeared. Alexander, freshly changed into a black tuxedo so precisely cut it should have been illegal, hair back, face unreadable, presence absolutely devastating. He walked straight to me without hesitation and offered his hand, a small, private smile touching his mouth. "You okay now?" he murmured. I placed my fingers in his. "Yes."

“If this maneuver guarantees your ass materializes at this pavilion so my person avoids enduring this family obligation in absolute isolation, I will authorize the boutique connection. But your ego must refrain from executing a hostile dick script toward her staff. My loyalty actually values Isolde.” My eyes maintained a sideways radar on his profile as their voices traded data. It constituted the initial moment my vision had genuinely inspected his architecture since my boots cleared the asphalt. Beneath those polarized aviator shades, my sight traced the reality that although his throat lacked a formal bow tie, his torso was locked inside a ceremonial tuxedo. The high-gloss satin lining th

Because clearly they underestimated me. One man stood directly in front of me, tall, built like a wall. His face was hidden by a black mask, but his voice was steady when he spoke. Wore a black long sleev, probably trying to hide the fact he had a tattoo. But unfortunately for him he unconsciously raised the sleeve on one arm and quickly brought it down, but I say enough to know the first one was that of a tiger. “Alexander Blackwood. You know why you’re here ?"

My eyes had gone narrow upon that unusual thought. I stared at him, scanning for some exterior clues. His slim body is fidgeting while panting for breath and he is looking around searching for something, maybe. His black tuxedo wasn't buttoned revealing his messy 1/3 buttoned white blouse and geez, his sternum, making him look cool or a MESS. His white complexion is a complete distraction, contrasting to his black tuxedo. He's also wearing a black feathered mask like mine and his messy bangs are undeniably making him attractive.

There were four men already in the room, dressed as various animals with their chests bare and oiled; some had heels and some whips, but all of them had collars and a leash; he was the only one in a black suit. All of them had masks that covered a portion of their face. He had felt awkward accepting it at first, but seeing it was the theme, he now relaxed in his panther mask. “Is this what Elizabeth is into?” Christopher asked, and Taz shrugged. “I don’t want to answer that; I want to leave doubts in your mind so that your marriage falls apart and I can jump you.” Irritation flashed in Christophers' gaze at Taz’s answer. Instantly, the man paled.

I adjusted the video speed and made sure to watch each of the men carry each box off the ship onto the docks. Then I caught it. A man, or rather, the back of a man. The workers were all putting on rugged clothes. Dirty armless tops, cheap jackets and the likes. But this guy, whoever he was, was putting on a tuxedo. In fact, it was the same brand as the one I was putting on. I paused the video and showed it to Mathew. “Who is he?” I asked in a stern tone. Mathew shook his head frantically. “I…I don't know, sir.”

“Excuse me?” My lack of wealth and prestigious ancestry has made Kristoff’s parents dislike me. How much more if they found out I was attending WSM on a full scholarship? Suddenly, a deep, velvety, vaguely familiar voice interrupts my thoughts. “You there.” I shift my head to the side. “Oh, hello. I’m sorry about that.” I awkwardly step to the side. This guy is coming in way too close. But, gee. He’s tall. He’s hiding half his face underneath a gold mask. His mouth and the faintest outlines of stubble are the only visible parts of his face. He’s dressed in a midnight blue designer tuxedo with black lapels, which displays his broad frame.