“Okay,” I say half-heartedly. “I’ll go. You tell me what to do and I’ll do it, no matter what.”
“That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Rhys leans towards me once more, this time kissing my neck. I think it’s just going to be a quick peck, but he keeps kissing and nuzzling, holding my attention there so I don’t notice his hand moving until it’s completely under my dress.
“Rhys!” I gasp as his fingers brush between my thighs. I feel my skin burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. I try to bat his hands away without drawing attention to myself, but he keeps going regardless.
“Shh, you’ll draw attention,” he says against my neck. With one last kiss, he sits upright and smiles at me, the picture of innocence, but his fingers continue to explore.
Despite my embarrassment and nervousness about getting caught, I feel myself getting wet as he strokes me. He uses feather-light touches to tease me enough to make me blush crimson but doesn’t go any further. I grab my glass of wine and take a huge gulp, desperate for something to cool me down. Rhys smirks when his fingers find the moisture between my legs.
“You enjoying this, Muffin?” he asks, spreading my arousal over my exposed skin.
“Please stop,” I breathe. I’m mortified that this is happening to me in public. Unfortunately, my sex-starved body is giving Rhys a different message. Regardless, I’ve asked him to stop. So why hasn’t he stopped?
“You don’t really want me to do that. I think you’re lovingthis. I think you want more.” With that, his finger brushes over my clit, and I practically jump out of my seat. Rhys chuckles at my reaction and does it again.
“Tilly?” I jump for a completely different reason now.
The whole dining room seems to go quiet as I notice Connor standing in front of our table, looking at me with concern. I understand why, considering my flushed, sweaty state. Please don’t let him notice Rhys’s hand.
After a few seconds of staring at him in shock, I realise it’s my turn to speak.
“Connor! What are you doing here?” I try to keep my voice even but fail miserably as Rhys continues his ministrations.
“I work here,” he says drily.
Of course he does, stupid.
“Owen recognised you and mentioned you were here, so I came to say hi.”
I’m not sure who Owen is, but he has shit timing. I smile weakly. “Oh, well it’s good to see you.”
“Yeah, really good,” Rhys says beside me, faking a smile.
“How have you been?” Connor asks me, ignoring Rhys completely.
In retaliation, Rhys pushes his middle finger inside me just as I open my mouth to answer. I gasp in surprise and Connor steps forward in a panic.
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He holds out his hands as if he wants to pull me from behind the table to inspect me himself.
“I’m fine,” I force out. Rhys moves his finger inside me making it extremely difficult to concentrate. You could make s’mores from the heat radiating off my cheeks right now. “Cramps.” It’s all I can come up with under duress. Luckily, mentioning cramps tends to make men uncomfortable enough to stop them from asking more questions.
Connor doesn’t look convinced, but nods anyway.
“You know,” Rhys says casually, “I’ve heard that orgasms are great for relieving cramps. Want me to help you out, Muffin?”
My skin is now a raging inferno, and I not only feel embarrassed but ashamed and guilty for making Connor so obviously uncomfortable. I try not to look him in the eye, but I can see by his tense body language and his fisted hands that he’s annoyed. Rhys, clearly loving getting a rise out of him, thrusts a second finger inside me and pumps them hard.
I put my hand on his arm, trying to subtly push it away from me and quietly whimper ‘Please stop’.
Rhys takes no notice, totally preoccupied with getting one up on the man staring at us from the other side of our table.
“No,” I say firmly and give his arm a harder push. This time, he pulls his hand away, but leaves it possessively on my knee, refusing to give up contact completely.
He shrugs innocently. “Alright, I was just offering to help.”
I still can’t look at Connor, and I don’t want to look at Rhys’s smug face, so I just stare at the cutlery in front of me instead.
“You okay, Til?” Connor’s beside me now, speaking in a voice that’s clearly meant as a warning to Rhys that he knows I’m not. “Do you want me to—”
