“You’re soaked, Stella,” he says, fingertips gliding up and down, letting my arousal coat them. “I knew you were lying. You want this as much as I do, don’t you?”
My only answer is a breathless moan, no coherent words attached. It must tell him plenty, because he continues his torturous strokes, his touch moving farther inside with each motion until his thumb is pressing on my clit and his fingers are just barely dipping into my opening.
“Tell me how you like to be touched, sweetheart,” he whispers against my ear, to which he gets a whine and a buck of my hips in response. “Come on, use your words.”
A shudder rolls through my body as I fight to speak, turning my head enough so that I can meet his gaze. “You’re a smart boy,” I say. “Figure it out.”
“Gladly.”
In answer to my taunt, he doesn’t go easy, sinking both fingers into me at the same time. I’m so wet that he barely meets any resistance as he pumps them in and out again, but there’s just enough friction to make me shift my hips to seek out more. And—there. That spot. The one he hits when he curls up and presses harder against my clit, rubbing small, quick circles in tandem with the crooking touch.
It all has a hiss leaving my lips, pressure building low and hot and swift as my hands seek out something to hold on to,something to ground me as my world starts to shift on its axis. I grip his forearm, the one banded across my waist. It keeps me pinned to him—keeps me from moving too much and giving away what we’re doing, even though I want to ride his hand like it’s a bucking bronco.
“I’m guessing that’s the spot,” Thomas muses.
“The fuck do you think?” I pant.
“I’d say we can do even better.”
I’m already dripping down his fingers, so I don’t know what else he could possibly do to take this to another level. But he proves himself as he quickens the pace, and my inner walls clench with every flick and slide. I’m already close. It’s not going to take much more to send me over the edge.
“You feel just as good as I thought you would.” His lips brush my temple with an unexpected tenderness before drifting down to my ear, nipping at the lobe. “So tight and perfect. Fuck, I want that around my cock. I want to feel you squeezing me. Do you want that too, Stella?”
The words are enough to send me up and over the peak of pleasure, becauseyes—yes, I want that. I want this flaming high again and again and again, as many times as he’s willing to give it to me. And I want to hear this buttoned-up man keep whispering these not-so-buttoned-up words, just for me.
The moan that tumbles from my lips is nothing short of filthy, my body shaking as the orgasm racks through me. I’d be curled over his arm if he hadn’t pressed his hand to the center of my chest, forcing me back against him. My heart rages under his palm.
“Fuck,” I exhale, my head hitting his shoulder when my neck decides it’s too weak to hold it up. “You’re a fast learner.”
“I am. And there’s plenty more I want you to teach me.”
Once again, I can’t give him more than an incoherent response as I float down from the hazy high, this one a cross between a sigh and a raspy giggle. “I have no objections.”
“Then we should—”
He cuts short when someone walks in front of our table. His hand shifts back down my thigh, dragging my wetness with it and landing somewhere more appropriate, just as the person stops in front of us. I doubt they could see what he was doing under the table, but their presence is enough to snap me out of whatever spell I’ve been under.
I blink a few times before Rachel’s face swims into focus. She doesn’t look surprised to find us here—or find me sitting on Thomas’s lap—but her pout tells me she’s annoyed that she had to seek us out.
“Sydney threw up on a stripper and one of the groomsmen is crying uncontrollably because he misses his dog,” she shouts over the music. “Janelle’s too embarrassed to stay here any longer, so we’re moving to the next spot. You guys coming?”
I finally notice the boisterous crowd of people winding their way through the club. It’s a stark reminder of where we are and how we ditched the rest of the party to have a not-so-private one of our own.
Fucking hell, I literally let this man finger me under a table—in public—like we’re horny high schoolers at prom. Old Stella was daring, sure, but she never would have done something likethat. Whoever I’m becoming is bolder than her predecessor.
“Yeah, sure,” I answer, still a little breathless. I consider sliding off of Thomas’s lap, but he holds me in place. Right. He probably doesn’t want Rachel to see his dramatically tented tuxedo pants. “Just, uh, give us a second. We’ll catch up to you guys.”
Rachel mumbles something before teetering off. Only then do I lean sideways and plop my ass on the bench next to Thomas, though my legs remain draped across his.
“So,” I prompt without looking at him, my voice high as I attempt to process what we’ve just done—and how I desperately want to continue it. All my earlier rules, regulations, guidelines, and personal promises are out the window. My once-dormant libido is now screamingI want to fuck this man, and it will not be ignored. “Should we leave with them?”
I want him to say no. Want him to suggest we ditch them and go off on our own. I want him to sweep me out of here and murmur dirty things in my ear for the rest of the night, then slip out before the sun rises and look back fondly on our one night together for years to come.
“We probably should,” he agrees. “Janelle and Ron might wonder where we went otherwise.”
I have to fight to keep my face from falling; I’m so disappointed that it feels like a gut punch.
“Or,” he goes on, “we could let them wonder and head to my room instead.”
