The Private Serials Box Set(51)
Walking back to our table, my eyes flitted over everyone in the room, waiting for someone to notice I wasn’t wearing underwear and point it out to everyone else. When I came upon our table, I noticed Preston had moved my chair to the very edge of the table, right on the corner, and he was sitting close to the corner as well. I managed to sit down, smoothing the hem of my dress down over my ass as I did, trying to make sure no one got a free show, and I noticed our elbows were touching; that was how close our chairs were now situated.
Preston watched me sit, a satisfied grin gracing his face, making his handsome rating skyrocket. When my hands smoothed over my ass, I saw his eyebrow quirk, his grin growing. My heart fluttered thinking about his eyes on my ass.
He cleared his throat and held out his hand, his eyes boring into mine. I gave him a questioning look. Obviously, I wasn’t going to hand him my panties out in the open.
He simply snapped his fingers and laid his open palm out again, waiting for me to deposit my underwear.
“Preston,” I whispered with annoyance, leaning a smidge closer to him.
“Sweetheart,” he answered, looking expectantly at me.
I quickly placed the panties in his hand and forcefully curled his fingers around them, hoping no one nearby could tell what they were.
His eyes lit up when the lace hit his skin and I saw his fingers grinding into his palm, feeling the fabric. Then I watched, horrified, as he placed them in the front pocket of his suit jacket, a tiny bit of black lace peeking out, taunting me, like a dirty, erotic pocket square.
Just then our waiter brought our meals and my heart stopped while I waited for him to notice my underwear. Waited for him to catch on to us, realize our dirty game, and throw us out with our heads bowed in shame. But he didn’t bat an eyelash at us. Didn’t notice a thing. It was then I realized I was being paranoid and I was likely going to have to play along with Preston’s game.
“Calm down, Lena. You’re practically trembling in your chair and even though I like to see you tremble, I usually like it to be caused by me making you come, not because you’re about to have a heart attack. No one knows what we’re up to.”
I took a deep breath in as I closed my eyes. He was right. I could eat a meal with no panties. No big deal.
I opened my eyes, picked up my fork, and brought a bite of risotto to my mouth. I stopped, mid-bite, when I felt Preston’s warm hand on the chilled skin of my thigh. I tensed, waiting to see where his hand was headed, but I also shivered in excitement, goose bumps rising up on the skin of my arms. His touch did magnificent things to my system, caused so many wonderful nerves to go haywire. When his hand rested between my thighs, I pressed them firmly together in an effort to maintain some boundaries, but sighed in relief. I loved his hand on me, but could hardly enjoy my meal if it wandered where it wasn’t allowed.
I continued to eat, as did Preston, and we shared trivial conversation. We spoke about our day and asked questions you would usually ask on a date with someone you were trying to get to know. At some point, I had to laugh to myself, finding humor in the fact that we were doing everything backward. I was married. He’d just asked me to live with him, and I’d just asked him where his favorite vacation spot was. I also had to smile because even though it was backward, it wasn’t wrong. In fact, it was the most right conversation I’d had with a man in years. Our situation was strange, uncommon, and perhaps a little dramatic, but the way I felt for Preston was anything but wrong.
My breath caught again when his hand slid farther up my leg, now brushing the hem of my dress. I grabbed my water, taking a sip, the muscles in my legs becoming strained from holding my knees together. His hand squeezed the fleshy part of my thigh and he leaned over to me, his face just inches from my ear.
“Open up for me, Lena,” he whispered. I could not move my eyes from my plate, afraid if I met his gaze I’d give in to him. I wanted to give in to him, wanted to feel his hand slide up my leg and into me, but not here. I worried my bottom lip between my teeth and shook my head slightly.
My body was starting to betray me: my pulse was thrumming through my veins, my skin flushing with excitement, my sex becoming slicker with every second his hand begged for entrance. My body wanted what he was offering, of that there was no doubt, but the rational part of my brain was still in control – mostly.
I exhaled a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding and my shoulders sagged when I felt his thumb making soft and slow circles on my sensitive skin just under the hem of my dress, silently asking me to do as he wanted, to let him in.
When I finally relented, gave in to him, a whimper escaped my lips as my knees fell apart. My muscles rejoiced as the stinging stopped, but new, more powerful sensations were flooding my system with every inch he gained up my thigh. His skin grazing along mine tickled in the most arousing way, prickled with the promise of pleasure, and the anticipation was nearly a physical being sitting at the table with us, it was that powerful.
I finally became brave enough to lift my gaze to him, only to find he was paying no attention to me above the table. He had no interest in conversation anymore or even to glance my way. The farther up my leg his hand roamed, the quicker my breaths came and the faster my heart thundered in my chest. I reached for my water glass, pausing at my lips as one of his fingers lightly grazed the length of my sex. Just barely and just enough for my eyes to flutter closed.
They immediately snapped open when I heard the waiter ask Preston if everything was fine with our meal. Simultaneously, Preston slid one finger inside me while answering the waiter with a, “Yes, everything is fantastic. Thank you.”