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“I’m fine,” I breathed, holding in a moan, as James ran his finger up and down the fabric, teasing me. Benedict lifted a fork to my lips, and I opened my mouth, not even paying attention to what he fed me. I chewed mechanically, wholly focused on the finger tracing the seams of my panties.
Benedict wrapped his ankle around mine and tugged on my other leg, spreading me obscenely under the tablecloth. He walked a path up my thigh with his fingers until they tangled with James’. “Please,” I whispered.
James whispered in my ear. “Does it turn you on to know that you’re the sexiest thing in this restaurant? That the tables on either side of us have no idea that I’m about to pinch your clit so hard you can’t hold your moan in?”
I met his blue eyes, my breath shuddering and uneven. He slipped a finger under my panties and ran it up and down the slit of my hot and aching core.
“James,” I said, my voice husky with desire. With aching slowness, he delved into my folds, exploring me, circling that tiny bundle of nerves, and then pressing hard on it. I jerked as pleasure and need shot through me in equal measure.
“Sit still, Piper,” he told me, pulling his finger away.
When I stilled, he began the motion of circling again, and then he said, “I promised a pinch.” And pinch, he did. I moaned as pain radiated through me, replaced by the most intense need of my life as he gently soothed it, rubbing his fingers in slow circles over my clit.
I lolled my head back over the padded leather of the booth, uncaring who saw me, who might guess what torture—what pleasure—these men imposed on me.
We abandoned any pretense of conversation as both men caressed me with careful touches, gentle, insistent, bringing me closer and closer to the edge without letting me fall over. Ibrahim devoured me with eyes almost black with need, his lunch forgotten on the table.
Anyone who looked at me would see my flushed cheeks, my heaving chest, and my hard nipples peeking through my dress. The rhythmic movement of the men's hands revealed exactly what we were doing. Sex goddess, I reminded myself, giving myself over to the sensations. I moaned softly, and James bit my earlobe before withdrawing his hand. He brought his fingers to my lips, and I cleaned them off, tasting my salty tartness.
James signaled for the check and pushed Ibrahim out of the booth. I looked at him in shock. Were they going to leave me like this? Aching and so close to a climax? James’ grin was so wickedly handsome, it took my breath away.
“There’s an alley behind this restaurant. How do you feel about crossing another item off of your bucket list?” James asked.
I slid out of the booth, dragging him behind me. He bundled me up, not bothering to button my coat, and then took the lead, escaping through the back of the restaurant as Benedict settled the bill. As promised, we emerged in an alley, only somewhat sheltered from the view of the sidewalk.
James didn’t care. He shoved me back against the wall, the desperation of our kiss careening through me as I desperately fumbled with his buckle. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he muttered against my neck as he licked and sucked my sensitive skin.
“Please, James,” I whined as I freed him, pumping my fist up and down his hard length, smearing precum over him. When he lifted my legs around his waist, I wrapped one arm around his neck and used the other to push my panties aside.
“Fuck,” he swore. “Condom. In my pocket.”
I chuckled. “Ever hopeful?”
“For you, sweetheart? Abso-fucking-lutely.”
He let me down so I could retrieve the condom as he dragged down the collar of my dress and popped a nipple out of my bra, laving it with his tongue and drawing a harsh moan out of me. Benedict and Ibrahim stood sentry on either side of us, blocking the view of the street and anyone else who might want to step out the staff exit of the restaurant during the busy lunch hour.
I tore open the foil packet and slid it down his cock, my hands shaking with anticipation. When he was covered, I leapt up, and he caught me, dragging my legs back around his waist. I held myself open with one hand, and he let go of me for a second to slide his right arm under my leg as he entered me.
My mind blanked entirely, fading to white static as he lowered me onto him, inch by inch, the plug in my ass combining with his thickness to stretch me. A jagged moan tore out of me.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re incredible,” James gasped into me. “Are you ready, love?”
My groan must have answered his question because he set a dizzying pace that had me crying and shouting his name as I climaxed moments later. My legs seized around him and the edges of my vision darkened as my release rolled through me in a brutal tidal wave, sweeping away everything in its path.
James drew out my pleasure as he continued to plunge into me, chanting my name like a prayer, until his rhythm turned ragged and he came. “Fuckin’ hell, Piper,” he groaned against my neck as we stood there, joined, my stockinged legs wrapped around him in the freezing cold, trying to catch our breaths.
“Wow,” I whispered, and tightened my grip on his neck. “Wow,” I repeated, as he pulled out and lowered me to the ground. I stumbled, my legs not quite ready to hold my weight after that incredible experience. All three men leapt forward to hold me up. Ibrahim wrapped his arms around me, pushing and pulling until he served as my support rather than the wall, his torso against my back, as Benedict straightened my clothes out with soft touches and murmured praise against my bare skin.
James looked equally shellshocked, his face slack and sweaty as his chest heaved in the alleyway. After taking care of me, Benedict gently did the same to James, wiping him down with a handkerchief and gently tucking him back into his pants before James took back control and buckled his belt.
“Can you walk back to the hotel?” Benedict asked me as I trembled against Ibrahim.
“Give me a few minutes,” I pleaded, my limbs still jelly-like. I could barely stand, let alone walk. Once again these men gifted me with an incredible and intense sexual experience.
“Even if she could, I can’t,” James said, leaning back against the wall beside me, tilting his head back. “I feel like I just ran a marathon.” He brushed his lips against mine. “Call a fucking car.”
Chapter Ten
