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“It’s good.” He intertwines his fingers with mine, squeezing my hand tight in reassurance. One of the models looks at me in disgust.
“You never answered my text message,” the brunette accuses.
“Which text message?”
She stands on her tippy-toes and whispers in his ear, he frowns then shakes his head.
“Excuse me, Claire,” he says.
Claire glances between us before she stares down at our intertwined hands. Her face turns beet red, then she storms off.
“You know, if you want to go have fun with those models, you can,” I say nonchalantly with a bit of sarcasm.
“Are you jealous?” He smirks.
“What? No. We’re not together. Our relationship is professional.”
“Our relationship is more than professional. Besides, you’re the one who wants to keep things protonic. Not me.” He leans down, and whispers, “If it were up to me, I’d have your legs wrapped around my face, eating your delicious pussy.”
“Atlas. We’re in public,” I say lowly.
“And? It doesn’t stop the hard-on you’re giving me.”
I glance down at his slacks. Sure enough, I can see the outline of his dick. Fuck me. I would give anything to do what he said he wanted to do. We find the table we’re supposed to be seated at, his mother sitting beside his father. She’s pretty with her blonde hair tucked in an updo, and her white dress is loose-fitted. The diamonds in her ears make her eyes pop. William eyes me up and down, then he stares at Atlas before his smile falters.
“Son.” He looks at me before saying, “How is your father?”
I haven’t spoken to my father since he left, but I don’t want to open up a conversation about him.
“Good,” I state.
“Does he know you’re dating Atlas?”
I bunch up my nose, and side-eye him. “We’re not dating. If we were, why would my father care if I did?”
He doesn’t answer, but he sips his drink. Atlas yanks out my chair, and I sit beside him.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, you look well,” his mother states.
“Thanks, Mrs. Conrad, so do you.”
“How is your mother? I’ve been meaning to go see her,” she asks.
“She’s as well as she can be.”
They chat among themselves, speaking about the fashion gala and business. I keep quiet as I take a sip of wine and glance around the room.
The waitress places my plate of lamb chops and garlic mashed potatoes in front of me, and I dig into my meal. I can feel the tension between Atlas and his parents. Atlas rests his hand on my thigh and inches his fingers closer to my lace panties. I told myself I wouldn’t sleep with him, but he makes it harder on me. My breasts are pressed against the thin fabric, and arousal blossoms in my lower belly. I try not to make a sound as I bite my lip and place my hand over his to slide his fingers even closer to my core.
He glances at me, and a smirk stretches across his face.
His fingers trail along the edge of my panties, sending me into overdrive, and my hormones rage.
He leans forward, whispering, “I would slide my finger inside of you and make you come, but you wouldn’t know how to control yourself.”
I gulp down the remainder of my drink as I glance up to find his father watching us like a hawk.
I lean forward. “You’re right, I wouldn’t,” I whisper in Atlas’s ear. “If you weren’t my boss, I’ll take you in the bathroom, give you the best blow job of your life.”
