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“I’d rather take a deep, wet swim in you, Cade.”
My clit just joined the party. And my mind just left it because I was crying fifteen minutes ago. But that’s the power of Silas. He’s a light switch to my emotions, and I suddenly feel very on.
He sets his glass down and asks, “You better now?”
“A little.”
His heat leans closer. “I think we need to make you feel a lot better.” His tone and eyes on me are intoxicating, and we’ve never gone this far.
“What’s bringing this on?”
And why doesn’t this feel wrong?
“This room is full of people with power and rules.” He doesn’t look at them. “They think they control us.” I’m drawn like honey to his full lips, and I need something sweet. “Show them they don’t.”
My eyes narrow. “But we haven’t done anything together.”
Not yet.
“Not us.” Temptation dances in his eyes. “You.” His thumb grazes my thigh, covered by the tablecloth. “You’re in control. You know how to make yourself feel better.”
His hazel eyes aren’t suggesting retail therapy or a threesome with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.
Flames flush my thighs. “Right here?”
Why does this sound good to me, too?
“Right now,” he says. “I’ll sit right here while you remind yourself who you belong to. Not to him. Not to me. We don’t belong to people, Cade. We belong to ourselves. And the rules weren’t made for people like us, so fuck ‘em.”
He’s speaking my gospel truth, and pain creases his eyes. I want to ask him what’s wrong, but he sounds so damn right right now.
No one can see me. And if they look my way, they’ll see a woman who deserves this. Who needs to feel like herself again. Or someone new. Anything but how I’ve been feeling for months.
“What about you?”
I don’t want to be selfish.
“The thought of fucking you makes me leave way too much creamy evidence behind.”
Fuck, I need CPR. Silas imagining fucking me? Of coming so hard for me? My heart just stopped, and my pussy takes over. With him sitting beside me and no one else at this table, it’s pulsing for this, begging me to do it. My left hand holds his on my thigh while my right sneaks under the tablecloth and lifts the hem of my dress. Silas sips his drink with his free hand. Watching me, he has the sexiest grin while I slide my hand under my lace panties, and I’m wetting fast at this no-no.
Because yes-hell-yes.
I glide my middle finger into my lonely pussy and fuck; my clit sparks like an electrical fire while I start fucking my hand in a room full of people.
Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m doing this.
“Does it feel good, Cade?” But Silas inspires me. “Does it make you feel better?”
“Yes,” I sigh at the touch of my sex, and this is all mine. Even if I get caught, I’m the only guilty one, and hell, yes, this world can go fuck itself while I fuck me.
His breath hovers over my shoulder. It looks like we’re having a romantic chat. “Own your pussy like it belongs to you first. Touch yourself with no shame.” But we’re not as his free hand holding mine caresses my thigh. “Are you getting wet?”
“Yes.” I stifle a moan.
Wet and swelling and glossing my fingers, the pump of my hand, it’s subtle but knows how to do this. Like my best lover, it always delivers.
I’m staring at a room of the most traditional people in the South and fingering myself under the table while a sexy man holds my hand and says, “I bet your pussy’s so hot now it’s throbbing to be filled,” and oh fuck.
