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Anger slides through my veins. Jackson’s fed her a story about how I’m using her. Fuck, it’s such a lie. One that by Monday she won’t believe anymore. “When it comes to you, there is only one game I will ever play.”
“What game is that?” she asks, a little breathless.
“Come here and I’ll show you.”
The sides of her mouth crease as she rises, accepting my dare. I push my plate to the side of the table, shifting my chair back. When she moves to my side, I help her so she’s straddling my chair, her bottom resting on the table. I never stop looking at her, keeping that connection. “Lift your skirt, sweetheart.”
Slowly, she does, revealing she’s not wearing panties. “Already playing a game yourself, hmm?” I lean back in my chair and drag my hands up her thighs, pausing to state my truth. “This is my game, Aria. My only game. Do you want to play this morning?”
“Yes,” she breathes, eyes hot on me.
I rub my finger through her slick folds. “Look at you, swollen, all used up.” I glance at her face and grin. “Your sweet body isn’t used to all this attention.” I run my palm over her clit. “Are you sore, Aria?”
“A little.”
I slide a finger inside her slick tender heat. “Not sore enough,” I tell her, when she tosses her head back. I gaze upon the long, sexy line of her neck. “You won’t refuse me my fill, will you?”
“God, no.” She moans.
That desperate moan tells me I have her right where I want her. I drag my finger out of her tight heat and state firmly, “Return to your seat, Aria.”
Her head snaps up, expression aghast. “What?”
“You wanted to play a game. Let’s play it.” She studies me a moment then obviously agrees to play along and rises. Before she can sit, I grab her chair, position her closer beside me. “Take a seat.” I pat the chair.
“What are you up to?” She regards me with suspicion.
“Anything I want.” She lowers down into the chair, and I pull her under the table, the linen now over her lap. “Spread your legs and rub that sweet pussy for me, will you, love?”
Heat and lust burn in her eyes. “And then?”
I lean closer, cupping her chin, demanding she only look at me. “Then you’re going to bring yourself to orgasm.”
“And then?” she whispers, breathless.
“You’re going to ask me permission to come.”
Her gaze hardens, the fight I love in her appearing. “Why would I do that?”
“Because that’s the game we’re playing.”
Keeping her eyes on me, obviously not prepared to fight against something we both know she wants, she widens her legs and then slowly slips her hand beneath the table. She’s under the white linen, hidden from me, but that doesn’t matter. I see the exact moment she strokes her clit, the heightened pleasure washing over her expression.
“Is this what you want me to do, Liam?” she asks, voice raspy.
“That’s exactly right, beautiful.” I reach for the buzzer. Her eyes widen as I press down against the button, calling the waiter back to us. The pleasure is gone from her face, expression hard. I arch a brow. “No longer interested in the game, darlin’?”
I see the power in her eyes, the challenge there. I know she won’t stop either, because as much as I like to win, she likes to push against me. That is our game. It’s addictive and fun and sexy as fuck. Even now, the sparkle in her eyes tells me that she’s going to follow through to show me that she’s as daring as I am. That tempts me to find out how far I can take us both.
Right then, the metal door whisks open, and a flurry of waiters return. Aria looks from them to me and then smiles, and I see the slight shake of her dress, telling me she’s moving her fingers again, faster now. In a single breath, the pleasure returns to her face, flushing her cheeks a stunning pinkish hue.
The waiter smiles at Aria. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?” he asks her.
“Entirely, thank you.” Her breath hitches.
He glances to me, obviously not seeing or hearing the heady pleasure she’s enduring. I smile at him and nod. “Please give our compliments to the chef, everything was incredible.”
“I certainly will, sir,” the waiter says, beginning to clear our plates.
