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I quickly grasp his hand and make him look at me. “Please.”
“Please what?” He raises a brow, his hand tightening up under my grip. “Take her too?”
My eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”
He leans in and whispers, “Try me.”
“You wish,” Jasmine tells him, snorting.
“Stop this, both of you,” I intervene, trying to push both of them away. “I didn’t come here to start a fight.”
“Tell that to your sister,” Luca replies, running his fingers through his dark, luscious hair.
“He just came here to show you off and pretend everything is fine,” Jasmine retorts, folding her arms.
Luca picks up his glass and takes a big sip. “So what if I did?”
He smashes the glass down as both of us gaze at him. I’m flabbergasted he’d admit that out loud. “Now pick the meat,” Luca suddenly says.
“Huh?” I mutter, completely confused.
For a second, I wonder if he means … his meat.
He points at the menu in front of me. “The steak is juicy.”
“Oh,” I reply, trying not to laugh.
“What?” he asks, taking another sip of his drink.
I try not to look at him, but he makes it terribly hard with the way he looks at me, like he wants to lick every inch of my body just to show me I’m his. “Nothing.”
His eyes narrow. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s nothing, really,” I say.
He puts down his glass and slides his hand under the table. When his fingers curl around my knee, I freeze. “Tell me, Jill.”
“I told you it was nothing. I was lost in thought, that’s all,” I answer.
But his hand only keeps sliding farther up, and up, and up underneath my dress. I shudder in place when he gets closer and closer to my panties until it becomes hard to breathe.
“Go on then. Pick your dinner,” Luca says, focusing solely on me.
But as I point at the steak he mentioned, his hand slides across my panties, and I struggle not to whimper in front of my entire family.
Fuck.
“That one, please,” I say to the server when he comes to take the menu again.
Luca leans in, and whispers, “Good girl.”
But he doesn’t stop.
In fact, he only presses down harder, pushing his finger against my clit, and I gasp in response.
“What’s wrong, darling?” my mother says.
My eyes widen as I struggle to breathe. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
I laugh it off, but all I can feel is the heat rising behind my cheeks as Luca begins to circle my clit. I can’t bear to look at him because I know he must be sporting that same greedy grin again that gets my heart fluttery and my pussy clenching.
But when he touches me like this, how do I resist?
“Jill is just very excited for the … meat,” Luca muses, flicking my clit like it’s the most normal thing in the world to do when you’re out to dinner with your family.
“Meat? Didn’t you say you were going vegetarian?” my mother quips.
My lips part, but I can’t respond because Luca slid aside my panties and swiveled right across my pussy.
“I … I …”
“She’s changed her mind. It’s been three years,” Luca fills in for me. “She missed the taste too much.”
He’s playing with me. Not only physically but mentally and emotionally too. And judging from the smirk on his face, he’s enjoying this way too much.
And oh God … I hate that I am too.
Because the way he swirls around in my panties should be forbidden.
Why is he doing this?
Why now?
I have to stop him.
I nudge my legs together, but he swats them open with ease, pinching my clit so hard I have to bite my lip to stop a squeal from coming out.
“No denying me, bunny,” he whispers into my ear. “Don’t make a sound. Don’t let them see just how badly you like to be owned.”
“Don’t do this,” I whisper back, but it’s so hard when he’s touching me in all the right places.
And when he shoves a finger inside, I literally gasp. “Your wet pussy wants me to.”
I struggle not to react as the waiters bring in the plates filled with food one by one while our families are talking around us like they don’t notice a thing.
Luca swirls around inside, spreading my wetness all over before continuing to build the pressure on my clit. “That’s it, bunny. Let go of all your inhibitions.”
“What if they see?” I mutter back.
“They won’t if you don’t let them,” he says with a grin.
My father cuts up his ribs into pieces he can pick up, my mother slices into her fish with a delicate hand, and my sister is silently chomping on her beans while I’m trying to maintain my composure. Luca’s steak stew arrives now, but he keeps on playing with me like it comes easy to him. With one hand, he grabs his fork and stabs a piece of potato, stuffing it into his mouth, while his other hand continues the onslaught between my legs.
