Page 111 of Elf-ish

I swallow the lump of cheeseburger in my mouth and do as he commands. With my backside near the edge of the seat, it’s easy for Jude to force my legs apart, forcing the slit in my dress to spread open underneath the table. His warm hand glides against exposed skin.

“What are you doing?” I ask, placing the final bite of the small cheeseburger in my mouth.

“Getting jealous of the sounds you make while devouring that slider.”

For some reason, the comment spurs me to reach for the second one and take another hasty bite. With my gaze fixed on Jude, I purr around the combination of soft bun, melting cheese, and warm meat.

And Jude’s hand rushes up my thigh toward my center.

Slamming my thighs together, I trap his hand between them.

“What are you doing?” I hiss as my eyes widen a second, and then I glance around the room.

“I’d never let anyone watch the things I want to do to you,” he confirms. “All anyone sees right now is my girl enjoying a mini cheeseburger while her boyfriend watches her eat.”

My head swivels in his direction. I’ve set the slider back on my plate, and I stare at him. His hand is still trapped between my thighs.

“Be a good girl, and open wide for me.” He nods toward the small burger on my plate, but his fingers twitch between my thighs.

Slowly, I spread my legs and reach for the partially-eaten slider. My fingers tremble as I lift the small burger, when I’m now hungry for something other than food.

Jude takes his time to slide his hand all the way up my leg, meeting the damp slip of fabric over where I ache for him.

“So wet,” he hums. “Tell me it’s me and not that burger soaking your panties.”

“Jude.” I choke on a laugh when he nudges the scrap of material to the side and easily slips a finger into me.

I lower my hands, nearly dropping the slider on my plate. I clutch at the edge of the table and spread my legs to the corners of the seat underneath it.

Jude rewards me with a second finger.

“Oh God,” I mutter, lowering my eyelids while glancing around the room again.

Jude slides his fingers in and out, taking my essence from wet to a mess.

“Jude,” I whimper.

“The first night you wore this dress, I wanted to fuck you so badly.”

My head turns in his direction, remembering he hadn’t touched me. He’d turned me down.

“You stole my breath that night. Entered that party like a girl boss, and all I could think about was she’s mine. Like Clara receiving that nutcracker.”

“The Nutcracker?” I choke. Not exactly a reference I’d use as he’s the one toying with me right now. His strokes remain slow, methodical, and torturing. I spread my legs wider, as if it will bring him deeper. He passes his thumb over my clit, and my eyes shutter closed.

“Keep those eyes open,” he demands. “We don’t want someone innocently noticing. Only I can know what you look like when you come. When you make a mess on my fingers beneath this table.”

“Jesus,” I groan.

Jude leans closer to me, pressing a soft kiss to my exposed shoulder, then casually sits up like he doesn’t have his hand between my thighs and his fingers buried inside me. He swipes over my clit again, this time more intentional.

“Take another bite of food,” he commands.

I blindly stare down at my plate. A meal, hot and fresh, and made for me at his request. I pick up the final bite and guide it toward my mouth just as Jude applies more pressure on my clit. My eyes close on their own as my breath hitches.

“You’re doing so good,” he encourages, while I falter, holding the slider mid-air while the intensity of his fingers increases.

“Bite,” he groans, and I place the final piece in my mouth, chewing slowly as Jude works me faster. His fingers glide deeper, curling inside me, and I gasp despite the food in my mouth.