“Oh, shit,” I whimpered.
He rutted against me like a wild fucking animal. “That’s it. Milk that dick, beautiful. Holy fuck, I’ve dreamt of this. Oh, shit.”
God, at least I wasn’t the only one having my dreams infiltrated.
When his body collapsed against me, pinning me to the wall, I laid my sweating brow against his clothed shoulder. His cock fell from between my legs, coated in my juices as my legs grew weak. His quaking hands gripped my thighs, keeping my legs around him for a little while longer before he backed up and helped me stand.
Then, without another word spoken, we pieced ourselves back together and found our way out to our table.
“They have a wonderful soup selection if you’d like to take something back for your daughter,” he said.
I sat in my chair and stared at him. “Are you sure? This is technically a business meal, right?”
His gaze met my stare. “I’m sure. Get whatever you wish to take home to her. I hope she feels better.” His words sounded empty, but I saw something more behind his eyes.
“I appreciate that, thank you.”
Dinner was quiet, and I was grateful for it. I knew whatever conversation we might have attempted to have would be stunted, at best, and I didn’t want to wade through that awkwardness when we still had food to eat. Our waitress came out in record time, setting down plate after plate after plate.
And when all of the food was spread out before us, my eyes widened. “Wow, you weren’t kidding.”
Trey chuckled. “Hope you’re hungry.”
My eyes fluttered up to his. “I think I’ve worked up enough of an appetite. You?”
His eyes darkened. “I’ve always got a bit of an appetite.”
Our waitress giggled. “Is there anything else I can get you two?”
I drew in a sobering breath that hopefully served to calm my puckering nipples. “Do you have any broth-based soups, by any chance?”
The waitress nodded. “Oh, yes. If you aren’t a creamy soup fan, we have a nice brothy mussel soup as well as a lobster noodle soup.”
I blinked. “Lobster noodle?”
She nodded. “It’s my favorite. It’s made exactly like chicken noodle, but with lobster instead.”
I pointed at her. “I’d love to order a to-go portion of that soup and a side of this lovely bread you have.”
“I’ll have it ready for you when you’re all set to head out, then.”
I smiled up at her. “Thank you.”
“And anything for you, sir?”
Trey cleared his throat. “Nothing to-go for me, no.”
The waitress nodded. “Then, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll pop back around and freshen up drinks in a bit.”
That was the most interaction I had with Trey throughout the rest of the dinner. We ate our stunningly good food in silence. I snatched up my to-go order for Aurora, and he paid without another word spoken. I walked with him out of the restaurant, and we made our way for the main road, where he quickly flagged down a cab for me. And after he opened the back door to usher me inside, I slipped in before peeking back up at him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to share a cab? I have to go back to get my car from work anyway,” I said.
He shook his head before speaking with the driver. “Get her to TC Public Relations, please.”
I watched him hand the cab driver some money before he closed my door and tapped the hood of the car. And I hated to admit that I turned around to watch his body fade into the darkened horizon of the night sky. I’d never felt so conflicted in all my life, sitting there with soup for my daughter and an ache between my legs that had yet to be fully satiated.
What am I getting myself into?
