Page 24 of Hidden Desires

I take the spoon, load it again, and feed her this time, holding it steady as she parts her lips and takes it in. She drags her tongue along the edge, slow and sensual.

“Good?” I ask.

She nods. “Better than good.”

A few feet away, someone laughs too loud. Silverware clatters. The restaurant is alive, but our alcove is its own reality, pulsing and tense.

I put my hand on her knee, squeeze, and leave it there. Eliza covers it with her own, sliding my fingers higher, up her thigh, under the hem of her dress.

I pause, eyes darkening. “You sure about this?”

The beautiful blonde’s eyes are pure mischief. “What’s the point of hiding in a private area if you don’t use it?”

I stare at her.

“But that’s the thing, sweetheart. It’s not really private. There’s no door. There’s just a stand of potted plants, and you know the waitstaff could barge in on us at any moment.”

Eliza smiles sweetly, licking those glossy pink lips again.

“The waitstaff knows to stay away. I’m sure your friend trained them well.”

That’s all the assurance I need to hear. I palm her thigh, work my way up, and holy fuck, but she’s not wearing panties. When did this happen? I could swear she had panties when we were at the museum, but somehow, Eliza slipped them off, the little minx. Heat roars in my head. My hand hovers for a second, then I slide two fingers along her slick, moist heat.

“Mmmm,” the busty blonde moans, closing her eyes. “That feels good, Daddy.”

I lean to whisper into her ear.

“When’d you lose your panties, sweetheart? I swear, I have to keep a closer eye on you just to make sure you’re not making mischief.”

Eliza just giggles, her big breasts bouncing.

“Mischief is my middle name, Daddy.”

“Is it now?” I growl. “Well, maybe Mischief likes this.” Then, I slide my fingers into her slick, velvet heat. She’s utterly drenched, those slick pussy walls clenching hard when I circle her clit with my thumb.

The young girl looks up, her pupils dilated with need.

“Don’t stop, Daddy.”

So I don’t.

I work her slowly, careful not to make a scene, but she’s hot and needy—hips rolling against my palm, breath coming fast. I keep my other hand on the table, steady, as if nothing is happening while smiling benevolently. But under the surface, my fingers fuck that tiny wet twat, slow and deep.

“Jack,” she whispers, breath shuddering. “Oh god.”

I glance around. Serge is nowhere in sight; the nearest table is hidden behind a huge palm frond.

“Quiet,” I say. “Or you’ll get us caught.”

Eliza bites her lip, trying not to moan.

I finger her until her whole body goes tight, thighs clamping around my hand. She comes, sharp and silent, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a perfect pink O.

“Mmmm!” she squeals under her breath as her pussy snaps and clamps, almost breaking my fingers in half. “Ooooh!”

“Quiet sweetheart,” I warn again, my cock punching at my fly. “Shhhh.”

When it’s over, Eliza shudders, then melts against me, face hidden in my neck.