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“Is this what you want?” His fingers dip under the slit in my skirt, gliding up to the crease of my inner thigh. I wore nothing under my dress, as he asked, and he groans.
“Such a good girl. You obey me so well, dolce. Will you wait to come until I tell you that you may?”
His fingers are so close to where I need them. The steady throb of need in my clit feels like a heartbeat, and I can feel the slick moisture between my legs, almost too much to bear. I nod breathlessly, despite how badly I want to come right now, already—because the idea of waiting for permission turns me on.
Lorenzo seems to realize that. He takes another sip of his drink, his fingers twitching higher, sliding up the delicate seam of my folds. I gasp at the touch, squirming a little on his lap, and I feel him throb underneath me.
“So wet for me already.” He turns his head, brushing his lips just behind my ear. “You’re going to come just like this, aren’t you? On my lap while everyone watches.”
My hips arch into his hand instantly, and he chuckles. His arm across my thigh tightens, holding me firmly in his lap against his cock as his fingers part my folds. His fingertips slide through the slick wetness, up to my clit, circling lightly as I gasp.
“I see I was right about how much you would like this.” His fingertip presses a little more firmly, rubbing against my clit, and I moan before I can help myself.
I can feel eyes on us now. A little ways down the bar, I see a woman lean into the man next to her, his hand on her ass dipping below the edge of her short, tight skirt. The feeling of being watched only makes me want it more, and my thighs part a little wider.
Lorenzo’s fingers dip down, circling my entrance, and I gasp when he pushes them inside. I rock backward against his cock, teeth sinking into my lip, and he reaches up with his other hand, tapping a finger against my mouth.
“I want to hear you cry out, dolce,” he murmurs. “I want to hear you beg for it when you want to come.”
“I want to come now,” I whisper, my voice catching. I feel strung taut, aching, every inch of my body aching for more. “Please?—”
“Not yet, principessa.” His fingers dip inside of me, his thumb tracing my wetness up to my swollen clit. “You feel so good around my fingers. Hot and tight and so wet. I want to play with you a little more.”
He turns slightly, his fingers sinking deeper into me as he glances at the bartender. “Another old-fashioned,” he calls out, as casually as if he weren’t fingering me on his lap, and I gasp. Heat floods me, blossoming through my body as his fingers take up a slow, lazy rhythm, thrusting in and out of me as the pad of his thumb circles my clit.
It feels like a fever dream. The bartender brings Lorenzo his drink, his gaze flicking over me, a smirk curling his lips. He knows what Lorenzo’s hand is doing under my skirt. Everyone knows, but ‘everyone’ has faded into a blur of faces and voices, a foggy audience as my arousal starts to overwhelm me.
I gasp, squirming in his lap, wanting more. Lorenzo’s fingers quicken, and he takes a sip of his drink, turning to brush his lips against my ear once more.
“Beg for it, dolce,” he whispers. “Beg for me to let you come.”
“Please.” I moan the word before he’s even fully finished speaking, my muscles tightening with the effort not to come before he’s allowed it. “Please, please?—”
“You sound so sweet when you beg.” Lorenzo pushes his fingers into me, curling them, rubbing in a slow back-and-forth as he presses down with his thumb. “Come for me, dolce,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “And then I’m going to fuck you.”
I gasp, my entire body tightening as my back arches, one hand blindly grabbing the edge of the bar as the other grips his leg. His fingers thrust into me, thumb rubbing expertly over my clit in exactly the rhythm I want, and I’m viscerally aware that I’m coming in front of a room full of people, that they can all see and hear me. I feel displayed, exposed, and it’s all my own choice now; all of this happening because the man who loves me knows what I want. What will drive me to heights of pleasure that I never even knew existed.
I come apart on his lap, trembling as he fingers me through the orgasm, his breath warm on my neck as I clench around his fingers. And then he tugs his hand free, lazily licking my arousal from the tips of his fingers as the room slowly comes back into focus around me.
The club is busier. I can hear other moans and sighs, sounds of male and female pleasure, and I dimly realize that Lorenzo is lifting me slightly, raising me off his lap as his hand tugs down his zipper.
“Tell me if you want to stop, dolce,” he rasps in my ear. “But right now, I want to fuck you here, and fill you up with my cum. And then we’ll go home, and I’ll fuck you again in our bed.”
He angles his cock against my soaked opening as he says it, and somewhere in the back of my head, I know I’m never going to think of sitting at a bar and having a drink the same way again. My skirt is pushed to one side, and I gasp as I feel him nudge his hips upwards, his swollen cockhead gliding inside of me as he sits me down atop his cock.
Carefully, he rearranges my skirt in front of me, so that no one can see. His cock throbs in me, buried to the hilt, and Lorenzo reaches for his drink as he turns the seat so that we’re facing the main room.
His right hand slips under my skirt again, fingers resting against my clit, lazily stroking it as he takes a sip. His hips shift inside of me, the barest of movements, but I can feel every inch of his cock buried inside of me.
“What should we do next time, dolce?” he asks, still sipping his drink as he rocks inside of me, petting my clit as he does. I know, faintly, that I’ll come again before we’re done, and the slow burn of it as we watch the show in front of us makes me feel as if I’m melting with lust.
“Should I strap you to one of those benches and spank you, then fuck your face, and reward you for swallowing my cum by licking you to your orgasm?” His hips cant upwards slightly, his cock shifting deeper, and I gasp. “Or should I lay you on your back, your dripping pussy on display while I stroke myself all over those pretty tits, and deny you any pleasure until you beg for it?”
His cock throbs and swells inside of me, and I realize how close he was, just from fingering me here in public. He’s fucking me like this, slowly, with the barest of movements, so that it will last. So he can draw it out, until I come again.
A moan spills out of me, and Lorenzo kisses the side of my neck, his hips rocking a little more insistently, his fingers stroking faster. “Or should I bend you over that dais,” he murmurs, nodding to the small stage in the center of the room, “and fuck you where everyone can see?”
“Yes,” I whisper, the word spilling out before I can stop it. “We should—oh—work up to it—but one day—oh god?—”
